Claudia held up her hand to stop the toast.
"No," she said. "More importantly. Welcome home, Cletus. Your father has been waiting for you for a long time."
"Thank you," Clete said, and his voice broke.
Claudia walked quickly to him and laid a hand on his cheek. Then, with a little hug, she kissed him. He could smell expensive perfume.
"It is all right to cry," she said. "Your father cries often."
She was right. When Clete looked at his father, tears were running down his cheeks.
[SIX]
Bureau of Internal Security
Ministry of Defense
Edificio Libertador
Avenida Paseo Colon
Buenos Aires
2045 14 December 1942
El Teniente Coronel Bernardo Martin, in a foul mood, parked his car directly in front of the main entrance of the building and stormed inside.
It is almost nine o'clock, after all, and unless Paraguay or Chile has invaded Argentina as an evening surprise, there will be no one superior in rank to me in the building, and I can park wherever the hell I choose.
The ornately uniformed guards standing by the door moved from parade rest to rifle salute as he passed (the formal guards at the Edificio Libertador wear the dress uniforms of the Patricios Regiment, circa 1809). Martin, who was wearing civilian clothing, forgot that he wasn't in uniform and returned the salute.
The door to the building was locked, and he pressed the bell button impatiently. A sargento appeared, immediately followed by a teniente, to tell him the building was closed. These men were in the field uniform, with German-style helmets and accoutrements, of the army unit charged with actually protectingas opposed to decoratingthe building.
He finally produced his Internal Security credentials. He disliked using themand did not, unless he had tobecause there was a lamentable and uncontrollable tendency on the part of people like this to remember him and point him out to their girlfriends: See the funny man? He's Internal Security!
With profound apologies, the teniente finally opened the door.
He would now almost certainly remember him; he could tell all his friends that Internal Security, ever vigilant, worked all night. Martin walked across the lobby and took the elevator to his seventh-floor offices.
The sargento on duty and Comandante Carlos Habanzo were waiting for him there. They rose to their feet as Martin walked through the door.
"Buenas noches, mi Coronel."
"I was playing bridge with the father-in-law when you called, Habanzo. I hope your reasons are important," Martin said, and waved at Habanzo to follow him as he walked to the door of his office and opened it.
"I took the liberty of putting the agent's reports on your desk, mi Coronel," Habanzo said.
Martin sat down at his desk and read the reports. They told him nothing that Habanzo had not told himor hinted aton the telephone.
"Why did this idiot not follow young Frade and the other one to Uruguay?"
"Mi Coronel, as you yourself have often said: Without specific, previous authorization, an agent's authority stops at the water's edge."
If I say now what I would like to say, I will regret it.
"Habanzo," he said a full thirty seconds laterwhich of course seemed much longer to Comandante Habanzo"I will explain our policy to you one more time. I would appreciate it if you would not only remember it, but pass it on to our agents: The authority of an agent does indeed end at the water's edge. But this agent's instructions were to surveille young Frade, not arrest him. No authority is needed to follow someone across a border. Do you see the difference?"
"S?, mi Coronel," Habanzo replied. "Mi Coronel, in this specific case, in addition to his misunderstanding of his authority, our agent did not have sufficient funds to take the boat to Montevideo for an unknown period of time. There would have been a hotel bill. Perhaps he would have been required to rent an automobile ..."
Martin held up his hand to stop him. "Be so good as to refresh my memory, Habanzo."
"I will try, mi Coronel."
Do we have an officer on our staff who is charged with seeing that our agents are properly equipped to perform their duties?"
"S?, mi Coronel," Habanzo said, somewhat unhappily, now sensing what was coming.
"Charged, in other words, with providing them with automobiles, appropriate documents, weapons where necessary ... and of course sufficient funds to fulfill their duties?"
"S?, mi Coronel."
"And who, precisely, is that officer on our staff, Habanzo? What is his name?"
"It is I, mi Coronel. I have obviously failed to carry out my duty."
"Unfortunately, that is the conclusion I myself have reached."
He let him sweat for a full minute before he went on.
"The damage is done, Habanzo. We will speak no more of it."
"It will never happen again, mi Coronel. Gracias, mi Coronel."
"We know from this," Martin said, tapping a document on his desk, "that young Frade and the other one ..."
"Pelosi, mi Coronel. Anthonyit is the English for Antonio Pelosi."
"... returned from Uruguay at approximately nine-thirty last night."
"Whereupon, mi Coronel, surveillance of the subjects was resumed by our agents, who were stationed at customs in the expectation that they would return."
"Did it occur to them to speak with the customs officer who inspected their luggage?"
"No, mi Coronel, it did not," Habanzo replied, and hastily added, as he saw the clouds form on Martin's face: "I personally went to the individual concerned and questioned him myself."
Proving, 1 suppose, that you are only half stupid.
"And?"
"There was nothing suspicious in their belongings, mi Coronel. They had boxes of straw ducks, chickens ... you know what I mean. And two beach radios that didn't work."
"One thing at a time. The straw ducks. Why would two bachelors have boxes full of children's toys?"
"I have no idea, mi Coronel," Habanzo confessed. "Perhaps for the children of their servants."
"And perhaps they contained enough explosives to blow up the Edificio Libertador! Did that occur to you?"
Habanzo considered the question seriously.
"I do not think it was possible that the boxes contained that quantity of explosives, mi Coronel."
"I was speaking figuratively, Habanzo."
"Yes, of course, mi Coronel."
"Tell me about the beach radios."
"You know the type, mi Coronel. They are powered by batteries, and you can take them with you. To the park, for example, or the beach. Theirs did not work."
"They had two portable radios? And they did not work?''
"S?, mi Coronel. They did not work. The customs man tried them, and all he heard was a hiss."
"You don't think it suspicious that each had a radio?"
Habanzo shrugged and held up his hands helplessly.
"Did he tell you what these portable radios looked like?"
"Like oversized telephones."
Habanzo, you are an idiot of unbelievable magnitude!
"Habanzo, two months ago, through the courtesy of el Coronel Gr?ner of the German Embassy, I was treated to a lecture of the latest German communications equipment. One of the items he was kind enough to show me was a portable communications radio. It had a range of several kilometers, weighed three kilograms, and looked like an oversized telephone, to which was attached an automobile antenna. Do you suppose that only Germans possess such electrical genius, or do you think it is possible that the norteamericanos might come up with something comparable?"