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“Blows up?” Stein said.

“Just before we came out here, I told Chief—sorry—Lieutenant Schultz to rig thermite grenades on the radar, the radios, and the new code machine Fischer brought down here with him. His orders are that the moment he hears the Argentines have come onto the estancia to arrest me, he’s to torch everything and try to find some place on the estancia for everybody to hide until something can be done to get everybody out of Argentina, probably to Uruguay.”

“Jesus!”

“You’re stuck here with the Froggers.”

“You’re sure this is going to happen?” Stein said.

“I’m not, and neither is Schultz,” Dorotea said.

Frade glanced at her, then looked back to Stein.

“I’ll tell you what I told my wife and Schultz: I can’t afford to be an optimist.”

Stein shrugged in understanding.

“So I’ll take it from the top, Siggy. You can decide for yourself whether I’m right.”

Stein nodded.

Frade began: “When we—Delgano and I—went to Pôrto Alegre to pick up the Lodestar, the radios, the SIGABA, and Fischer, there was a man waiting for me . . .”

“So you came here to take Grandma’s picture,” Stein said after Frade was finished. “Because you think it’s important to this Mr. Dulles?”

It was more of a statement than a question.

Frade nodded. “And because I thought I might be able to salvage at least the pictures of her for him from the smoldering ruins of our operation.”

“You don’t know that, Cletus!” Dorotea said, and when he looked to her, she repeated, “ ‘The smoldering ruins.’ ”

“Baby, you don’t know how much I hope you’re right and I’m wrong, but I can’t go with crossed fingers and wishful thinking.”

“For the sake of argument, Clete,” Stein said, “say you’re right. What do I do with the Froggers if I hear they’ve arrested you?”

“They know too much, Siggy,” Frade said.

“I was afraid of that,” Stein said. He shrugged. “What the hell.”

“You can have Enrico do it, or Gómez, if it comes to that,” Clete said.

“If it comes to that, I’ll do it,” Stein said. He looked at Fischer. “What are a couple of nice Jewish boys like us doing here, doing things like this?”

Fischer raised his eyebrows in an expression that said Hell if I know.

Frade went on: “We’ll spend the night here, and leave for the estancia at first light. Gauchos will meet us as soon as we come onto the estancia. If—and I don’t think this is likely to happen—they say the cops or whatever haven’t come yet, then I’ll fire up the Lodestar and fly Fischer to Uruguay. That will at least get him and one roll of the film out of here.”

“And if you’re right,” Dorotea said, “and the police or whatever are looking for you, then what?”

“Then you will drive to the house—taking one of the rolls of film with you; which you will somehow manage to get to the embassy—and tell the cops you have no idea where your crazy husband is. Enrico will go with you. Fischer and I will get on horses and ride off into the sunset and hope we can hide until I figure out how to get him and me and everybody else out of the country.”

“I’ve never been on a horse,” Fischer said.

“Then that should be interesting,” Frade said.

“Well, let’s go take the goddamn pictures,” Stein said.

“New problem,” Frade said. “It’s dark. You can’t take pictures in the dark, can you? Maybe we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning.”