A major politely moved him away from the map and inserted two different pins, one blue and one yellow, both numbered "1" at the gate to Campo de Mayo. These obviously represented the First Cavalry and First Infantry Regi-ments, which were at this moment preparing to begin their march.
Two minutes later, the major replaced the black pins marking the location of the barracks of the Second Infantry, the Buenos Aires garrison troops, and the cantonment of the Navy's School of Engineering. Clete knew where both military bases were. The Second Infantry's barracks were near the Army's polo fields across from the racetrack (and near Uncle Willy's house) and the Navy School was on Avenida del Libertador several miles closer to Campo de Mayo.
The new flag pin on the Second Infantry was blue-and-white, and the new flag pin on the Navy Engineering School was red. The Navy was apparently staying with Castillo.
What does that mean? Will they fight the First Infantry when they see them coming down Avenida del Libertador? With what? The Navy usually doesn't have many small arms, just enough rifles and pistols to arm Navy guards.
In the next few minutes, with decreasing courtesy, he was moved out of the way to allow a procession of officers and noncoms to replace pins all over the map.
Finally realizing with more than a little chagrin that he was really bother-ing people, he turned from the wall of maps and got out of the way.
At one side of the room he saw a table tended by white-jacketed waiters, and walked to it. Coffee and pastry was being served. That, like the swords dan-gling from every officer's Sam Browne belt, seemed grossly incongruous to him, but apparently to no one else.
He took a cup of coffee and a roll and found an armchair, sat down, and stretched out his legs. The coffee was very hot, and he set the cup down on the wide arm of the chair to let it cool.
He was a well-nourished young man in excellent physical condition, and quite naturally excited to be taken out of bed in the middle of the night to wit-ness a coup d'‚tat.
But on the other hand, during the last seventy-seven hours he had traveled from Buenos Aires to Santo Tome by train; crossed into Brazil by ferry, and then been driven across Brazil by a driver who apparently believed the two speeds of a car were On and Off; received four hours' intense, if rudimentary, instruction in the operation of a Lockheed C-56 Lodestar aircraft; flown that two-pilot aircraft without assistance, using dead-reckoning navigation, illegally across the Brazilian-Argentine border; landed it at night in a heavy rainstorm on a too-short, unpaved landing strip illuminated by gasoline burning in clay pots; flown the aircraft the next morning from Santo Tome onto another dirt strip at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo and then from the estancia to Campo de Mayo.
The next thing Clete knew, Enrico was gently shaking him.
"Se¤or Cletus," the old soldier said, gently reproving him. "You are snor-ing."
Clete looked at his Hamilton. It was quarter past five.
Jesus Christ!
What did you do in the revolution, Daddy?
Why, son, I slept through it.
He rose quickly out of the chair and walked back to the wall of maps.
General Rawson was there, with Lauffer standing beside him.
Looking over Rawson's shoulder, he could see that almost all of the flag pins on the map of Buenos Aires were now blue-and-white.
Almost all. Not all.
There were more than a dozen red flag pins, mostly congregated around the Casa Rosada, but also on the Edificio Libertador, and, surprising Clete, on the Naval School of Engineering. Near that red flag pin was the blue flag pin with the numeral 1, identifying the First Infantry Regiment.
He looked for and found the yellow flag of the First Cavalry. It was on the intersection of Avenida Cordoba and Avenida Pueyrred¢n, less than a mile from the Casa Rosada. Beside it was the blue flag pin of the Second Infantry.
General Rawson sensed somebody behind him and looked over his shoul-der.
"You must have a clear conscience, Se¤or Frade," Rawson said, letting him know that he had seen him sleeping-or possibly heard him snoring. "Either that, or you have a commendable faith in Outline Blue."
He's in a good mood. The revolution must be on track.
"The latter, mi General," Clete said. "Judging from the map, it looks like it's going well."
"Not here," Rawson said, pointing at the School of Naval Warfare. "There is resistance here. Machine guns. There have been some casualties. The First Infantry is stalled."
Clete blurted, "Can't they bypass it? Come back later and clean it out?"
"They could, they should, and I have ordered them to do precisely that," Rawson said. "I had to order the First Cavalry and the Second Infantry to stop their advance."
He pointed to those flags.