Nestor stopped her when she started to pour, took the bottle from her, and put it to his lips.
Is he doing that because he really likes to, or to play "I'm just one of the boys" with me?
"I hope I haven't disturbed anything?" Nestor asked.
"No. Not a thing. I was sitting here catching the breeze and feeling sorry for myself."
"Why sorry? Don't tell me Se?ora Frade didn't turn out to be as advertised."
"I miss flying. I even miss the goddamned Marine Corps. I'm a much better Naval Aviator than I am a saboteur."
"Perhaps your father will let you fly his airplane. Or one of them."
"I didn't know he had an airplane."
"He has a Beechcraft biplane, and at least one Piper Cub."
"You mean a stagger-wing Beechcraft?"
"Your father's has the top wing behind the lower... yes, I suppose it would be a 'stagger-wing.' And as I say, at least one Piper Cub. The useon the larger estanciasof small aircraft is quite common."
"They were getting into that in Texas and Oklahoma, too," Clete said.
If my father has a Beech stagger-wing, he'll probably let me fly it.
"We considered, of course, that you might not find your father to be the ogre Mr. Howell paints him to be. And in time, that you might manage to get close to him. We didn't think it would happen so quickly.
"Do you think he'll turn out to be useful to us?"
"How do you mean, useful?"
"Tilt this country toward us, and away from Mr. Hitler and Company."
"My initial impression of my father is that he's a strong, intelligent man, who will tilt the way he decides to tilt, completely unaffected by his son's nationality, or by what his son thinks or asks him to do. Incidentally, I'm quite sure he's figured out that I'm not down here to make sure Mallin isn't diverting crude to the Germans."
"What makes you think so?"
"He as much as told me. It was by shading, innuendo, not in so many words."
"What were the circumstances?"
"There was an Internal Security officer. A lieutenant colonel named Martin ..."
"Not just 'an Internal Security officer,' Clete," Nestor interrupted him. "Colonel Martin is Chief of the Ethical Standards Office of the Bureau of Internal Security. He reports only to the Chief of Internal Security, an admiral named de Montoya. A very competent, and thus dangerous, man."
"My father said he'd been to see him, asking about me. As a matter of fact, he said that's how he learned I was in Argentina."
"That was quick work on Martin's part," Nestor said admiringly. "They apparently made the connection between you and your father more quickly than we thought they would. Go on."
"Anyway, this Colonel Martin was in the Alvear Palace when I met my father." *
"Possibly surveilling your father. But that's unlikely. He's too important for something like that."
"My father introduced us," Clete went on, aware he was growing annoyed at Nestor's frequent interruptions. "Later he told me who Martin was. And this is the innuendo I meant: He told me that I have nothing to worry about since I'm down here only for Howell Petroleumto make sure Mallin is not diverting petroleum products."
Nestor grunted.
"And does Mallin have any idea that you're not down here to do that?"
"No. Or at least he didn't. My father said Martin would probably go to see him. And that would arouse his suspicions."
"Worst possible scenario: You will be expelled from Argentina despite your father, or possibly because your father will arrange it. You would probably have time to go underground, but that would be sticky."
I can think of a worse scenario: The same thing will happen to me, to all three of us, that happened to the last OSS team.
"Alternative scenario," Nestor went on. "Even if Martin has questions about your cover, he won't connect you with the replenishment-ship problem yet, and you will not be expelled from Argentina." He paused a moment, then finished that thought. "Both Martin and Admiral de Montoya are obviously reluctant to anger your father. But he will keep you under surveillance."
"I understand."
"You will have to be extra careful when you go to Uruguay. Which brings us to that."
"Uruguay?"
"How soon do you think you can tear yourself away to go to Uruguay?"
"What will I do in Uruguay?"
"You and Pelosi are going to Montevideo, where you will hire a car and drive to Punta del Este. It is a rather charming little town on the Atlantic coast, quite popular with Argentineans escaping the heat of Buenos Aires. After you take the sun on the beach at Punta for a day or two, you will drive northI'll furnish a mapto near the Brazilian border. A quantity of explosives and detonators will be air-dropped to you there."
"Air-dropped from where?"
"Prom Brazil, onto a rice field we have used before."
"How do I get the explosives past Argentine customs when we come back? Or past Uruguayan customs leaving Uruguay?"
"The explosives themselves should pose no problem. They have been molded into a substance that looks exactly like wood, and precut to form the parts of a wooden crate. You will assemble the cratesthere will be two of them, with a total weight of just over twenty-two poundsand fill them with souvenirs of your holiday... not too heavy souvenirs; the explosives only look like wood and don't have wood's strength. They make some rather attractive doodads of straw, in the shape of chickens, horses, cows, et cetera. These would be ideal. You will quite openly carry the crates onto and off the ferry and through Argentine customs."
Now this is more like Errol Flynn battling the Dirty Nazis. The problem is, although I know Nestor is dead serious, I'm having trouble believing that I am about to go to some field near the Brazilian border and have explosives air-dropped to me.
"The detonators will pose a problem. There will be a dozen of them. They're quite sensitive. Probably the best way is for one of you to tape them to your body. Argentine Customs is very unlikely to submit you to a body search." He paused and smiled. "Or perhaps you could wear your cowboy boots. I'm sure you could conceal them in your boots."
And blow my goddamned leg off!
"Is there any way I could take Ettinger instead of Pelosi?" Clete asked. "Pelosi is young. Excitable. And doesn't speak Spanish well."
"But knows about explosives and airdrops," Nestor said, shaking his head no. "Besides, I want Ettinger to continue what he's doing with the Hebrew community here."
"We've discussed that. He knew only one family on that list of names, and they told him to bug off."
"He's going to have to go back to Klausner and try again."
"He's convinced me that would be a waste of time, and that Klausner would very possibly turn him in. Or at least report to Internal Security that Ettinger has contacted him."
"He'll have to go back."
"You tell him."
"I have information that may change Klausner's attitude," Nestor answered, ignoring Clete's last remark.
He took what looked like several sheets of folded yellow paper from the inside pocket of his seersucker jacket and handed them to Clete. When Clete started to unfold them, he saw it was really one long sheet of paper, and recognized the carbon copy from a radio-teletype machine.
"This will be released to the Argentinean press in the morning. Even if they run it, Herr Klausner might not see it," Nestor said as Clete started to read it.