"Why, thank you."
"So when we go out to dinner, there is usually someone who sees us and says to their friends, 'Oh, look, there's Evita Duarte, the radio actress, out with some officer.' Or: 'Oh, look at the beautiful blonde with el Coronel Peron.' Or, worst of all: 'Oh, look, there's that beautiful blond radio actress Evita Duarte out with the Secretary of Labor, el Coronel Peron.' "
"It's really not that bad, sweetheart," Evita said. "And it's the price you just have to pay for being prominent."
"Sweetheart"? Suspicion confirmed.
Maybe it's finally occurred to him that there would be objections to a president known to have an affinity for adolescent girls.
This may go easier than I thought it would.
"Well, all I know is that it's a problem even for someone like me," von Deitzberg said. "Who is not in the public eye. Just between us and the wallpaper, I have a lady friend, and we have the same problem."
"You're married, Jorge, is that what you're saying?" Evita asked.
"We haven't lived together for some time," von Deitzberg said. "It just didn't work out, and then it turned nasty. We can't go to dinner anywhere in Buenos Aires. My lady friend and I, I mean. If we do, my wife hears about it by breakfast and--Well, you can imagine."
"I understand," Evita said sympathetically. "So what do you do?"
"We do what I came here to suggest to Juan Domingo--and this was, of course, before I had the pleasure of your acquaintance, Evita--that he seriously consider doing himself."
"Which is?" Peron asked.
"Have a vacation retreat in Bariloche," von Deitzberg said. "And I think I have found just the place for you. For you both."
"Oh, really?" Evita said.
"I left my briefcase by the door," von Deitzberg said. "Let me go get it."
"Well, there it is," von Deitzberg said, pointing to a dozen or more large photographs laid out on Peron's dining room table. "Estancia Puesta de Sol, two hundred and fifty hectares on the shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi. A nine-room villa, plus servants' quarters, with most of the land in forest. Harvestable forest. What do you think, Juan Domingo?"
"I love it," Evita said. "Oh, sweetheart!"
I should have been a real-estate salesman.
"Again between us and the wallpaper, I'm a little strapped for cash," Peron said.
"That's not a problem," Von Deitzberg said. "I took title to this place when it came on the market, and your credit is good enough with me."
Peron obviously was trying to come up with the words to squirm out of it.
"But this is something you would want to consider at your leisure," von Deitzberg said. "Not just jump into."
"Yes, I would agree with that," Peron said. "Haste does make waste."
"So what I would suggest you and Evita do is go have a look at it."
"I'd love to," Evita said.
"How would we do that?" Peron quickly objected. "It's three days by train out there. If we only spent a day there, we'd be gone a week. I don't have the time for that."
"And eight hours by air," von Deitzberg said. "I know because I just came back to Buenos Aires by air."
"Really?" Evita asked.
"South American Airways now flies there twice a day, with a stop at San Martin de los Andes," von Deitzberg said. "The morning flight leaves Aeropuerto Jorge Frade at eight-thirty."
"You're not suggesting we do this tomorrow?" Peron asked, incredulous.
"Oh, darling, why not?" Evita said. "I'm so sick of this dreadful little apartment. And I've never flown. Please?"
"I'm not sure we could get seats on such short notice," Peron said.
Evita said what von Deitzberg was thinking: "Of course you can. You're on the board of directors of SAA. They'll find seats for us. Will your lady friend be going, too, Jorge?"
"Yes, of course. I think you'll like each other."
Inge will be a little surprised, and probably not pleased to hear we're going back to Bariloche. She really got airsick on the way here.
Too bad. This is all I could ask for, and more.
We came back to Buenos Aires so that I wouldn't be anywhere near that fool Schmidt when he goes to Mendoza. Better safe than sorry.
Casanova Peron will be out of Buenos Aires and in no position to do anything about stopping what's going to happen to his beloved godson, Don Cletus, in case he should hear about it--and if he was here, that would possibly, even likely, happen.
And once Juan Domingo takes possession of Estancia Puesta de Sol--which he will if Evita has anything to say about it, and she will--I'll have him in my pocket. There's no way he could satisfactorily explain how, on his army pay, he came into possession of an estancia worth half a million pesos from a man who died years ago in a car crash.
"I'll look in the book for the number, darling," Evita said. "And then you can call about the tickets."
"Can I make anybody another drink?" von Deitzberg asked.
"Oh, yes, please," Evita said. "It's a celebration, isn't it?"
XVI.
[ONE].
Casa Montagna
Estancia Don Guillermo
Km 40.4, Provincial Route 60
Mendoza Province, Argentina
0430 16 October 1943
After failing to do so with several gentle nudges, Dona Dorotea Mallin de Frade awakened her husband by jabbing her elbow into his side.
Startled, he sat up and looked down at her.
"Why don't you go get Mother Superior?" Dorotea asked.
"Is something wrong?" Clete asked.
"No. I just want to start my catechism lessons a little early today. Right after that, I'm going to have a baby. Go get her, goddamn it, Cletus!"
"Oh, shit!"
He jumped out of bed, hastily pulled on his trousers, and ran out of the room.
"You're not needed in here, Cletus," Mother Superior said. "Go find something useful to do. Perhaps you can come back later."
Don Cletus Frade had been deep in thought as he watched Mother Superior and her crew--Sister Carolina, the huge nun whom Clete thought of as Mother Superior's sergeant major; Sister Monica; and two others whose names he didn't know--start turning his bedroom into what was obviously going to be the delivery room.
"Excuse me?"
"I said get out. Go find something useful to do."
"Like what?"
"Prayer comes to mind."
He looked at her for a moment, then left the room.
What the hell, why not?
God, if anything bad is going to happen, make it happen to me, not Dorotea or her baby. Our baby.
Thank you.
[TWO].
Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade
Moron, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina
0835 16 October 1943
SAA Chief Pilot Gonzalo Delgano stepped outside the passenger terminal and watched SAA Flight 455, one-stop Lodestar service to San Carlos de Bariloche, take off, desperately--and futilely--hoping that a red warning flag would appear on the instrument panel, causing the pilot to return to the field.
When that didn't happen, he went into his office in the passenger terminal, picked up the telephone, and dialed a number he had been dialing at least once every five minutes since seven o'clock.
"Extension 7177," a male voice answered.
"Is he there? Or do you know--"
"He's here, Major," "Suboficial Mayor" Jose Cortina said. "Hold on."
Delgano heard, faintly: "It's Delgano, Coronel."
El Coronel Alejandro Martin came on the line: "What's so important, Gonzalo?"
"Coronel, von Deitzberg, that blond German woman from Uruguay, el Coronel Juan D. Peron, and some other blond woman by the name of Duarte just took off for Bariloche. I didn't know whether to stop them or not. I tried to--"
"Peron and von Deitzberg--all of them--were traveling together?" Martin interrupted.
"Yes, sir. I heard about Peron going when I came in this morning. He called last night and said he needed four seats even if that meant taking somebody off the plane."
"When's the next flight out there?"
"At half past one."
"Hold four seats on that. Six. Cancel the flight."
"That won't be hard. It may not go anyway."