There was a delay.
“He’s not in his office,” Lauffer said. “They’re looking for him.”
“Wattersly, you look as if you think we should have put going to the president to a vote,” Nervo said.
“Actually, General, I was thinking that I should have been the one to get on the telephone.”
Everyone looked at Lauffer for a very long ninety seconds, until he suddenly stood straight and spoke into the telephone again.
“Lauffer, sir. Mi general, something has come up. . . .
“I’m in the Círculo Militar, sir. . . .
“Yes, sir. With el General Nervo, el Coronel Wattersly, and . . .”
There was a brief pause, and then Lauffer said, “Yes, sir. We’re in the private dining room at the end of the corridor, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He laid the phone in its cradle and turned to the others.
“The president was having breakfast in the main dining room. He saw everybody arrive. He’s coming here.”
Eyebrows were still being raised when el General de División Arturo Rawson—a good-looking, silver-haired man in his fifties with a precisely trimmed mustache—walked into the room. The president of the Argentine Republic was in uniform.
Everyone stood up and came to attention, everyone more quickly than Inspector General Nervo.
“Relax, gentlemen,” Rawson said. “Good morning.” He smiled at each man individually. “If I didn’t know you all so well, I’d think I’d come upon a meeting of conspirators. What’s going on?”
No one replied.
Finally, Nervo broke the silence.
“Mi general,” he said, “you have a crazy Nazi coronel who is about to start a civil war.”
“And which crazy Nazi coronel would that be, General Nervo?” Wattersly answered for him.
“Schmidt, Señor Presidente. My cousin, el Coronel Erich Schmidt of the 10th Mountain Division.”
“You agree with General Nervo, Edmundo?” Rawson asked.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
Rawson looked at Martín.
“And what does General Obregón think about all this? And where, incidentally, is he? Why is he not here? And why are we all not in the Casa Rosada or the Edificio Libertador?”
El General de División Manuel Frederico Obregón was director of the Bureau of Internal Security.
Martín came to attention.
“I haven’t told General Obregón, Señor Presidente,” Martín said.
“Why not?” Rawson said.
Nervo answered: “He doesn’t swim too well with his hands tied, Señor Presidente. None of us do.”
Rawson glared at him for a moment before softly asking: “And you think that would have happened?”
“I didn’t want to take the chance,” Nervo said.