"It's turned into a pretty good relationship, Mart¡n and me. We tell each other interesting things all the time."
"For example?"
"For example, just today he told me that there was a very interesting pas-senger on the Lufthansa flight. A man named Goltz. He's a Standartenf?hrer- that's like a colonel-in the German SS."
"How interesting."
"It was to me. What's an SS colonel doing in Argentina?"
"I have no idea."
"If you hear, would you let me know?" Leibermann asked. '"What I'm sug-gesting is that we, you and me, have the same sort of arrangement 1 have with Teniente Coronel Martin. I hear something interesting, I'll pass it on to you, un-officially, of course. And vice versa-you hear something interesting, you pass it to me unofficially."
"If I ever hear something interesting, you'll be the first to know," Clete said. "Unofficially, of course."
"Like, for example, what goes on at the G.O.U. convention this weekend."
"The G.O.U. convention? I have no idea what you're talking about," Clete said.
"At Estancia Santo Catalina," Leibermann said. "They're going to sit around, drink a little vino, cook some steaks, sing, maybe do a little dance around a sombrero"-he snapped his fingers-"and when they can find a couple of min-utes, decide who's going to be the next President of Argentina, now that your father's no longer available, and maybe even decide when to give Castillo the boot. You can understand why I'd like to hear anything you happen to pick up."
"I didn't hear about any convention," Clete said. "And, if there is going to be one, I didn't get invited."
"Just so you don't think I'm as dumb as I look," Leibermann said, "one of the colonels who'll be there is a tall drink of water named Juan Domingo Per¢n. He was a real close pal of your father's. He came back from Germany yesterday on the same plane with the SS colonel. There are a lot of people, including me, who think the sonofabitch is a real Nazi. And I would like to know-the U.S. government would like to know-the role the Nazi sonofabitch is playing in the coup d'‚tat, and the role he will play in the new government if your father's cronies get away with it. Any information you could pass on to me would be greatly appreciated."
He took out his wallet and handed Clete a card with three numbers written on it.
"My office, my apartment, and a number that's answered twenty-four hours a day. Your code name is 'Cowboy' if you don't want to use your real name."
"'Cowboy'?"
"Cowboy," Leibermann confirmed. "Did they teach you in OSS school that the best way to handle numbers like that is memorize them and then burn the lit-tle piece of paper?"
"I didn't go to OSS school," Clete said.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Leibermann said wryly, then suddenly stood up. A broad smile appeared on his face, and he put out his hand.
"Well, it's been a real pleasure meeting you, Se¤or Frade," he said, raising his voice so it could be heard all over the room. "Welcome back to Argentina!"
He pumped Clete's hand enthusiastically, then walked toward the stairwell.
[TWO]
Bureau of Internal Security
Ministry of Defense
Edificio Libertador Avenida
Paseo Colon
Buenos Aires, Argentina
0915 11 April 1943
The Chief of the Bureau of Internal Security of the Ministry of National De-fense, el Almirante Francisco de Montoya, liked to gaze out of the window of his ninth-floor office. His office windows looked out over the River Plate. On a clear day, one could just make out the coast of Uruguay, near Colonia del Sacra-mento, across the river.
The Admiral was especially fond of peering out the window at the ships on the