“Thank you. My name is Fischer.”
Frade said, “Second Lieutenant Leonard Fischer, Signal Corps, this is my communications officer, Lieutenant Oscar Schultz, USN. And that is the last time we will use our ranks.”
Both Fischer and Schultz had personal thoughts before they shook hands.
Fischer wondered, Frade’s not talking about the gaucho—is he?
Schultz thought, This kid is supposed to be expert on the Collins Model 7.2 transceivers and the SIGABA?
“How do you do, sir?” Fischer said politely.
“And kill the ‘sir’ business, too,” Frade added.
“What do you say, Fischer?” Schultz said.
“What do I call you?”
“We call him El Jefe,” Dorotea said. “It means ‘the chief.’ ”
Fischer nodded his agreement.
“Well, come in the house and w
e’ll have tea,” Dorotea said.
“Can I pass on that, Dorotea?” Schultz said. “I want to look at what they brought. I figured we’d do that in the hangar?”
“So would Carlos like to have a look at what we brought,” Frade said, then explained Carlos to Fischer. “He’s my mechanic, hired at the strong recommendation of Delgano, which means he works for El Coronel Martín.”
“Carlos went into town yesterday,” Schultz said. “I thought he’d be back today, but he’s not here. I checked on that when I heard you’d come onto the estancia.”
“So would I like to see what you brought home,” Dorotea said. “So tea will be served in the hangar. There also will be beer, Mr. Fischer, a very nice merlot, and bourbon, as that’s what my husband drinks. But we have about anything else you might want.”
“Beer will be fine, ma’am,” Fischer said. “Ma’am, do you have a vacuum cleaner?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Could I borrow it, please? One with a hose would be just what I need.”
“One vacuum cleaner with a hose coming up,” Dorotea said.
“What’s with the vacuum cleaner?” Schultz asked.
“I packed the transceivers and the . . . electric typewriter . . . with popcorn,” Fischer said.
“You did what?”
“I used popcorn as a cushioning material,” Fischer explained.
“I’ll be goddamned!” Schultz blurted.
“Quite probably,” Dorotea said, “if you keep taking His name in vain.”
“Well, I’ll be a sonofabitch,” Chief Schultz said in awe, then winced. “Sorry again, Dorotea.”
They were in the hangar, looking into the innards of the SIGABA device, the cover of which had been carefully removed. There was not much to see, other than an odd wire rising from a sea of popcorn kernels.
“You did that to the Model Seven-Twos, too?” Schultz asked.