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He took it.

“Where’s General Nervo?” he asked.

“Right there,” Father Kurt said, pointing to the door. Nervo was walking through it.

Nervo started toward them, changed his mind, went to the bar, made himself a drink, and then came to them, taking the last empty armchair.

“Tell me, Don Cletus, what kind of a pistol did you give Señor Körtig when he went real-estate shopping?”

“One of the Ballester-Molinas from the arms cache. Why?”

“And you did remember to give him ammunition?”

“Of course I did. Actually, what I did was give him a couple of my magazines. The 1911 and the Ballester-Molina are almost identical, and I didn’t want to have to root around in the arms cache for first magazines and then ammo.”

“In other words, you would say that Körtig’s pistol was loaded with ammunition from your Springfield Arsenal?”

“Either Springfield or Rock Island Arsenal. Why the curiosity?”

“Because a .45 ACP shell casing marked Springfield Arsenal was found on the floor of the men’s room of the Hotel Edelweiss in Barlioche. Also in the men’s room was the corpse of a man carrying the National Identity booklet of Jorge Schenck.

“Someone blew his brains all over the wall.”

“My God!” Father Welner exclaimed.

“When did you learn this?” President Rawson asked.

“I just talked to Subinspector General Nolasco. He tells me that he was sitting outside the hotel keeping an eye on el Coronel Perón when a shot was heard. He went inside, where patrons pointed him toward the men’s room. On his way there, he saw Father Silva, Señor Alvarez, and Señor Körtig sitting at a table in a sort of outside bar. In the men’s room, he found Señor Schenck sitting in the urinal, his back against the wall with a small entrance wound—surrounded by powder burns—in his forehead, and a much larger exit hole in the rear of his skull. And the cartridge case I mentioned.

“Now, I’m just a simple policeman, but I’m wondering how many other people besides Señor Körtig and armed with a pistol firing cartridges made in the United States were likely to have also been in the Hotel Edelweiss at the time.”

“Nolasco has arrested this man?”

“Your orders, Mr. President, were for Nolasco to keep an eye on Coronel Perón but to take no action unless directed by you or me.”

“Did this man know Schenck, Cletus? Von Deitzberg?”

“After hearing this, I’d said they had at least a casual acquaintance,” Clete said. “Körtig was trying to protect Valkyrie.”

“Körtig is involved in Valkyrie?” the president asked. When he saw the look on Frade’s face, he added, “Yes, I know about Valkyrie. Unlike some other senior officials of my government, the foreign minister keeps me abreast of things in which he thinks I might be interested.”

Clete nodded.

“What I’m wondering now is whether my Tío Juan knows who blew von Deitzberg away,” he said.

“I’m still wondering what Perón is doing in Bariloche,” Martín said. “It seems to me that if he knows what Schmidt is up to, he would be in Buenos Aires.”

“Yeah,” Nervo said thoughtfully. “He told the local police he was on a little holiday.”

“Nolasco hasn’t spoken to Coronel Perón?” President Rawson asked.

Nervo shook his head.

“Well, what do we do?”

“Arturo, before you make any decision,” Father Welner said, “I am compelled to tell you that Señor Körtig is of special interest to the church.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Clete asked. “That the Vatican, the Pope, knows about Valkyrie? Are they for it, against it?”