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“Is there some way you can put them under surveillance from the moment their airplane lands?”

“The Gendarmería Nacional is taking care of that, Señor Presidente,” Nervo said. “And it’s not only keeping an eye on Schmidt’s convoy but doing its best to slow it down.”

“The Húsares de Pueyrredón will take care of slowing el Coronel Schmidt down,” Rawson said.

“Excuse me, Señor Presidente?” Nervo said.

“Just as soon as I can get to a military phone—” Rawson interrupted himself and turned to Lauffer. “Bobby, call down and have my car ready two minutes ago.”

“Yes, sir,” Lauffer said, and picked up the telephone.

“I’m going to order the Húsares to saddle up immediately for Mendoza,” Rawson finished.

He saw what he correctly interpreted to be something close to contempt on Nervo’s face.

“Figuratively speaking, of course, General Nervo. I’m going to order the Húsares to immediately begin to move to Mendoza by truck. They have enough trucks to move a troop with their mounts.”

Nervo did not respond, and the look of near contempt remained.

“That was one of el Coronel Frade’s innovations when he had the Húsares de Pueyrredón,” Rawson said. “He called it his Immediate Reaction Force.”

When there was no response to that either, Rawson said, “Jorge Frade even got airplanes for his regiment. Piper Cubs. Cletus flew me into Buenos Aires in one of them during Operation Blue, and I was able to prevent two regiments from inadvertently engaging each other as they marched on the Casa Rosada.”

Nervo was still silent.

“General, if you have something on your mind, please say it.”

“You’re sure, Señor Presidente?”

“Consider it an order, General!”

“When I joined the Gendarmería, I was advised by a man I respected that I was never going to get anywhere in the Gendarmería unless I learned to keep my mouth shut and never tell any of my superiors anything they didn’t want to hear, or, more importantly, that they were wrong.

“I followed that advice, and it worked. Here I am, inspector general of the Gendarmería Nacional. I don’t have to worry about getting promoted anymore. What I have to worry about now is keeping stupid bastards like Schmidt from starting a civil war that will destroy Argentina. And, of course, from keeping General Obregón from sending me swimming with my hands tied behind me. . . .”

“If you have something to say to me, Inspector General, say it!” Rawson said angrily.

“Well, I’m just a simple policeman, Señor Presidente, but I see several things wrong with you sending the Húsares charging down the highway in trucks to Mendoza to roadblock Schmidt and the 10th Mountain Troops.”

“Is that so?”

“For one thing, the Húsares wouldn’t know where to find the Mountain Troops. The last word I had from my people who are following them is that they plan to halt for the night near General Alvear.

“That means in the morning they can do one of two things. They can turn right in San Rafael and take Highway 146 to San Luis, and then Highway 7 to Mendoza.”

“I know the area,” General Rawson said thoughtfully.

“Or,” Nervo went on, “they can turn left at San Rafael and then about twenty kilometers down 146 get on the secondary roads to Mendoza. They’re not paved and some of them are in bad shape, but it’s only two-thirds—maybe half as far—going that way.

“We don’t know which route Schmidt will take. So you won’t know where to order the Húsares to set up their roadblock. And you can’t split the Húsares and put half on one route and half on the other. How big is Frade’s—el Coronel Frade’s—Immediate Reaction Force? A troop? What’s that, maybe fifty guys on horses?”

“About sixty-two, I think,” Lauffer said.

“Okay. You split that many in half, you have thirty-one guys on horseback, armed with nothing heavier than Thompson submachine guns and Mauser carbines. On Schmidt’s trucks are two hundred, give or take, men armed with everything up to .30- and .50-caliber machine guns, mortars, and God only knows what else.

“The Húsares won’t stand a chance against the Mountain Troops. All they’ll be is a footnote in the history books: ‘The first battle in the Argentine Civil War of 1943-53 was between the 10th Mountain Regiment and the Húsares de Pueyrredón, who were wiped out near General Alvear.’ ”

He paused, then asked, “You want me to go on, Señor Presidente?”