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“We could hide these people in Casa Chica, Don Cletus.”

“What’s Casa Chica?” Frade said. “One of the casas on the estancia? Didn’t you hear what Doña Dorotea just said? This is the first place Martín’s going to look. And, God damn it, the people who work for him are not clowns; they’re good.”

“This is somewhat delicate, Don Cletus.”

“Delicate? What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Casa Chica is a very small estancia near Tandil in the hills between La Pampas and Mar del Plata,” Enrico explained. “No more than maybe two hundred hectares.”

“Whose estancia is it?”

“It is yours, Don Cletus.”

“How come I never heard of it?”

“It was one of your father’s most closely kept secrets, Don Cletus,” Enrico said.

“You mean during the . . . before the coup? Because of that?”

“No, Don Cletus,” Enrico said uncomfortably. “Señor . . . it was where he and Doña Claudia would go when they wished to be alone.”

Leibermann smiled. Frade glared at him.

“There is an airstrip and a nice little house. Very romantic, Don Cletus. There is a very nice view of the hills. There is a waterfall, not a very big one, but a very nice one. And—”

“And nobody knows about this place?” Clete shut him off.

“No, señor. Only myself and Rodolfo. When El Coronel and Doña Claudia went there, he took with them only Rodolfo or me, and Mariana María Delores, may she be resting in peace.”

Frade’s mind flashed the image of Enrico’s sister, Señora Mariana María Dolores Rodríguez de Pellano, her throat slashed during the failed attempt to assassinate Frade.

When Clete didn’t reply, Enrico went on: “There are just a few servants there, Don Cletus. All of them my family. They know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“That sounds ideal, Clete,” Leibermann said.

“

Can we get these people there without anyone seeing them?”

“In the back of a truck,” Enrico said.

“Honey, I really have to go,” Clete said. “If I’m late getting to Campo de Mayo, the first thing they’ll think is that I’m involved in this.”

Dorotea nodded.

“Call Casa Número Veintidós. Tell Chief Schultz to send Sergeant Stein here with a truck and a couple of Thompsons. Tell Stein to dress like a gaucho. And then, Enrico, truck these people out to this place in Tandil. Don’t let them be seen, and don’t let them near a telephone.”

“I will go with you, Don Cletus,” Enrico said softly.

Clete ignored him.

“I have no intention of riding in the back of a truck,” Dorotea said. “I’m pregnant, in case you haven’t noticed. Factor that into your planning, Napoleon.”

“What are you talking about?” Clete asked. “You’re not going to this place, wherever it is. Jesus Christ!”

“Permission to speak, Don Cletus?” Enrico asked.

When Frade looked at him, he saw Enrico was standing at attention.