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Clete leaned and closed the corpse’s eyelids, then pulled the blanket over the body.

“Okay, what happened?” Frade asked.

“There were about six of them running around the vineyard. One of them shot one of our guys. Stein and Enrico were running around down there, heard the shot, and went looking.

“Before Stein could stop him, Rodríguez blew this one away with his Thompson. We have the rest of them, including a hauptsturmführer who says he’s under the protection of Colonel Schmidt.”

“Now, that’s interesting,” Rawson said. “Where is he? Are they?”

“Over there, sir. In the woodshed,” Sawyer said, and pointed.

General Nervo came walking quickly to them.

“What’s this?”

Clete said, “It’s a dead SS trooper, who killed one of my men. There’re six more—”

“Including an officer, General Nervo,” Rawson interrupted, “who says he is under the protection of el Coronel Schmidt.”

“—over there in the woodshed,” Clete finished.

“Who killed this one?”

“Rodríguez,” Clete said.

Nervo leaned over the body and pulled down the blanket.

“Why is the ID on his chest?” he asked.

“That was Rodríguez’s idea. He said that when they killed the ones at Tandil, they took their pictures with their IDs before they buried them.”

“Would you mind going over that again for me, please, Capitán?” the president asked courteously.

“Yes, sir. Well, when Perón and Schmidt and the SS guys tried to kill the Froggers at Don Cletus’s house in Tandil—”

“You knew of this, General Nervo?” Rawson interrupted.

“Yes, sir.”

“Odd, don’t you think, that no one thought I would be interested?” the president asked. “Please continue, Capitán.”

“Yes, sir. Well, when Rodríguez and the guys from Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo killed the SS guys in Tandil, Stein took their pictures so we could prove they were there. So we did the same thing with this guy.”

“Cletus, I think it would be a very good idea if we had those pictures when we go talk to el Coronel Schmidt. Or el Coronel Perón.”

“There’s a set in the safe in the house, sir,” Clete said.

“And the Froggers are where?”

“They’re also in the house, sir. Frau Frogger is out of her mind.”

“And you have what? Chained her to a wall?”

“No, sir. She is under the care of the Little Sisters of Pilar, or whatever the hell they’re called.”

“You’d better get the name of the order straight in your mind before Father Welner gets here. And when will that be?”

“I would estimate twenty minutes to half an hour, sir.”