“Goddamn you, shut your mouth until I give you permission to open it!”
He paused, visibly getting his temper under control, before going on.
“For one thing, that would have given the Bureau of Security all they needed to come on your estancia and grab the radar and Ashton’s team. Two weeks after that, another German freighter would be anchored in Samborombón Bay refueling German submarines.
“For another, it would have meant that I would have had to tell Colonel Donovan who Galahad is. And von Wachtstein is the only window we have on this obscene concentration camp inmate ransoming business. There are thousands of lives at stake there, for God’s sake.
“And von Wachtstein—and you’re right: If Donovan gets his name, it will be only a matter of time before we do something stupid, and the Germans will learn we’ve turned him—is the only window we have on Operation Phoenix.” He paused and took a breath. “And you were willing to risk all this so that you could play Jack Fucking Armstrong. Now do you know why I’m furious?”
“Sir, I didn’t think—”
“You bet your stupid ass you didn’t think!”
“I’ll find somebody to fly the Lockheed,” Clete said.
“And here’s another instance of where I find it difficult to believe that you’re so incredibly stupid: Ashton tells me that you crossed Juan Domingo Perón’s name off the guest list for your wedding. Is that true?”
“He will be at the wedding,” Clete said.
“Don’t tell me you actually reconsidered one of your stupid acts?”
“Somebody told me I couldn’t afford to insult him,” Clete said.
“Who somebody?”
“A Jesuit priest. Named Welner. He and my father were friends.”
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do with Perón. You’re going to get so close to him you’ll think you’re a fucking Band-Aid. You’re going to be the son that sonofabitch never had.” He paused and looked at Clete. “I sent you down here in the first place because I thought you could get close to the powers that be. When the Germans killed your father, you should have known, for Christ’s sake, that the next-best thing to your father is your goddamned godfather. I think that sonofabitch is going to end up running this country. You want to tell me why you didn’t want him at your wedding?”
“He’s a pervert, for one thing,” Clete said, and the moment he heard the words come out of his mouth, he realized how inane his answer sounded.
“Pervert?” Graham asked with obvious interest. “Perón’s queer?”
“He likes little girls. Fourteen-year-olds.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“He brought one to the house on Libertador. I saw him with her.”
“It could have been a niece or something.”
“I asked Enrico about it, and he told me.”
“I’ll be damned,” Graham said. “That’s interesting. And that’s what I meant when I ordered you to keep your eyes and ears open. You didn’t think we would be interested in hearing about that?”
“It never occurred to me, Sir,” Clete said.
“Start thinking, for God’s sake!” Gra
ham snapped. He turned to Leibermann. “You hear anything about Perón, Milton?”
Leibermann shook his head. “You’re sure about that, Tex?” he asked.
“I told you what I know,” Clete said.
“I agree, that’s interesting,” Leibermann said.
“You said, ‘for one thing,’” Graham said.