Commisario Santiago Nervo, Chief of the Special Investigations Division of the Policía Federal, emerged from the building, leaned down, put his hands on the window frame, and smiled. “Shame on you, mi Coronel. One hundred thirty-five in a seventy-five-kilometer zone.”
“Been promoted, have you, Santiago? Out here catching speeders! Before you know it, they’ll let you wear a uniform.”
Nervo laughed. “Before I throw you in a cell, Bernardo, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
“You are so kind,” Martín said.
Nervo pointed to the parking area beside the Administration Building and got out of the car.
Martín followed him into the building, where Nervo was considerably less jovial to the Gendarmeria Nacional lieutenant in charge. “El Coronel and I will require coffee,” he announced, “and we do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Sí, Señor.”
“Would you be good enough to get my driver a cup of coffee, too, Lieutenant?” Martín asked courteously.
“Sí, mi Coronel.”
Nervo waved Martín into an office with OFFICER COMMANDING lettered on the door, and then onto a couch. He sat at the other end of the couch and offered Martín a cigarette. Martín held up his hand to decline.
The sargento who had stopped Martín’s Dodge carried in a tray with coffee cups and a thermos of coffee.
Nervo nodded at him
“You’re very kind, Sargento,” Martín said.
“Close the door as you leave,” Nervo ordered.
He poured coffee for Martín, who declined milk and sugar.
“What a pleasant coincidence meeting you here, of all places,” Martín said.
“Well, I don’t get invited to the estancias of the high and mighty,” Nervo said. “I have to park by the side of the road and watch them drive by.”
My God, is he really jealous?
“What can I do for you, Santiago?” Martín asked.
“I would like your honest opinion about a political matter. Make that opinions, political matters.”
“Certainly. Ask away.”
“Ramírez has appointed Perón Minister of Labor.”
“Yes, he has.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Juan Domingo Perón is a very capable man.”
“Why isn’t he Minister of Defense?”
“General Farrell is Minister of Defense,” Martín said. “Nobody told you?”
“Don’t fence with me, please, this is serious,” Nervo said.
“Perón doesn’t have to be at the Ministry of Defense so long as Farrell is there. Farrell does exactly—no more and no less—what Perón tells him to do.”
“Why does Perón want to be Minister of Labor?”