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“Von Gradny-

Sawz also said that von Deitzberg told him he is to ‘eliminate’ the Froggers wherever and whenever found, and do the same to Don Cletus,” Martín went on. “And then he told me that von Deitzberg was going to be on this afternoon’s SAA flight to Montevideo.”

“He’s really being helpful, isn’t he?” Nervo said. “What do you make of that?”

“Generally, I have the feeling that he’s trying to ingratiate himself with me so that he can find asylum here. So far as von Deitzberg flying to Montevideo is concerned, I had the feeling—feeling only, nothing to back it up—that he would not have been distressed had von Deitzberg been arrested at the border.”

“Why didn’t you have him arrested?” Nervo asked.

“I want to arrest him—if it comes to that—for something more than having illegally entered Argentina. Blowing up airplanes, for example. Or hiring members of our criminal community to have another go at my friend Cletus.”

Nervo grunted.

Martín went on: “The thought occurred to me that once I had arrested him, what would I do with him? The president would have to be informed immediately, of course. And he would have questions. ‘How did he get into Argentina? ’ I would then have the choice between pretending I had no idea—in other words, lie—or telling the president about U-405.”

“Which would make the president then wonder both how you knew about U-405,” Capitán Lauffer said, “and why you didn’t arrest him on the beach at Samborombón Bay.”

“And that would involve el Coronel Schmidt and his Mountain Troops,” Nervo said. “And the German SS men who also came ashore, whom Schmidt took with him to San Martín de los Andes. And why didn’t you arrest the lot?” He turned to Lauffer. “Tell me, Roberto, what would El Presidente do if this was laid before him? Seek the wise counsel of el General de División Manuel Frederico Obregón, the director of the Bureau of Internal Security, to see what he made of it?”

“I’m afraid, sir, that’s just what he would do,” Lauffer said.

“I don’t swim well with my hands tied,” Nervo said. “So confiding in El Presidente doesn’t seem to be an option.”

“If SS-Brigadeführer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg . . .” Wattersly began, and then stopped. “Was that right, Martín?”

“That was correct, Coronel.”

“. . . is the major problem, the solution seems obvious. Any suggestions, Rodríguez?”

Frade thought: What’s he talking about? What obvious solution?

Certainly, he’s not suggesting . . .

Enrico popped to his feet, came to attention, and barked, “If Don Cletus approves, mi coronel, the Nazi bastard will be dead before the sun sets tomorrow.”

“Good chap!” Wattersly said.

“Let’s see what the Nazi bastard is up to before we do that,” Clete said evenly.

“But, my dear fellow, you heard what Alejandro said. What he’s up to is blowing up your airplanes and then killing you and the Froggers, not necessarily in that order. I say nip the whole bloody thing in the bud.”

“I’d like to see who he contacts here, people we don’t know about,” Frade said.

Nervo grunted.

“So would I,” Nervo said. “We can always kill him later.”

“Well, now that that’s come up,” Wattersly said, “I am a bit curious to see if he tries to contact Coronel Schmidt.”

“The Mountain Troops guy?” Clete said. “I thought he was Juan Domingo Perón’s good buddy.”

“Not exactly, Old Boy,” Wattersly said. “You’re really not aware of the di chotomous feelings Erich has toward your Tío Juan?”

“That’s Schmidt’s name, ‘Erich’?”

“Erich Franz Schmidt. His mother and mine are cousins,” Wattersly said. He paused and looked between Martín and Nervo. “We’re getting off the track a bit here, but I think he should hear this. Agreed?”

Martín nodded. Nervo said, “I agree.”