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“You think it’s necessary for you to personally fly the relief mission?” Perón asked.

You don’t like that? Fuck you, Tío Juan!

“If an SAA aircraft is going to be flown into Germany, I’ll fly it.”

“You have a reason?” Perón pursued.

“Let’s say I want to protect my investment in SAA,” Clete said.

“Perhaps, with your contacts, your information about conditions in Germany is better than mine,” Perón said.

Does he know Dulles is here?

“Germany will be—probably already has been—divided into four zones,” Clete said. “Russian, English, French, and American. Berlin itself will be sort of an island in the Russian zone, and also divided into four zones. We would need permission from either Eisenhower’s headquarters or the French, whoever is controlling the airspace, to fly across France into Germany—as a matter of fact, it would probably be better to have permission from the Spaniards to fly across Spain into France—and I don’t know if we can get it.”

“Request has been made for whatever permissions are required from the appropriate ambassadors in Madrid and Paris,” Perón said regally. “I cannot imagine their denying it.”

Frade held his gaze a long moment, then said: “You get me the clearances and I’ll do it. I’ll be back from Mendoza tomorrow. Say, anytime twenty-four hours after that.”

“Why are you going to Mendoza?” Perón asked.

That’s none of your fucking business, Tío Juan!

“I have business there, Tío Juan.”

“You know, Cletus, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Major von Wachtstein was sitting in your airplane. That fellow looks just like him.”

No use trying to deny it.

“That’s Peter,” Clete said. “Now that he’s been released from his POW camp, he needed a job. SAA hired him.”

“That was unusually quick for him to be released from POW status, wasn’t it?”

“What I heard was that the Americans released him as soon as the surrender was signed. Sort of a reward for his contributions to the war effort.”

“Please give him my regards,” Perón said.

“I’ll do that.”

“I’ll tell President Farrell and Foreign Minister Ameghino that you see no problems with the relief flight.”

“None but getting the clearances,” Clete said.

“Thank you,” Perón said.

After another icy embrace, Perón marched into the passenger terminal.

Humberto then embraced Clete and looked into his eyes.

“Whatever you’re thinking of saying, don’t,” Clete said.

“You do have a very strange relationship with your godfather, don’t you?”

Clete laughed, then punched Duarte fondly on the arm.

As he turned to walk toward the Red Lodestar, he saw Dulles, Boltitz, and von Wachtstein at the foot of the stairs and starting toward him.

Damn it, Hansel! So much for keeping everyone on the aircraft.