Ashton thought it over for a full thirty seconds, which seemed longer.
“You really think you could fly the Lockheed to Montevideo all by your lonesome?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Whenever you want.”
“Tomorrow? In the morning?”
“Come for breakfast, meet my family, and I’ll have you in Montevideo in time for lunch.”
“What’s a nice young Cuban boy like me doing in this business?” Ashton said. “You really want me to come for breakfast?”
“Absolutely. I want you to meet the rest of the family.”
“I’ll be there,” Ashton said.
VI
[ONE]
Zoological Gardens of Buenos Aires
Plaza di Italia, Buenos Aires
1530 1 May 1943
As the blue Dodge approached the Plaza di Italia, Coronel Bernardo Martín leaned forward and touched the shoulder of Sargento Manuel Lascano. Martín was wearing a brown tweed sports coat, gray flannel slacks, and a yellow polo shirt; Lascano was wearing a business suit. “Drop me at the main entrance, please, Manuel, and then wait for me at the entrance on Libertador.”
“Can I stop there, mi Coronel?”
“I think, Manuel, if a policeman did come to the car, and you showed him your credentials, he would understand.”
“Sí, Señor.”
“And I can open the door myself when we stop, Manuel. The impression we are trying to give is that we are not in the Army.”
“Sí, Señor.”
Manuel pulled the Dodge to the curb and Martín stepped out. He walked toward the ticket booth, but stopped first at a kiosk and bought a copy of the tabloid newspaper Clarin. He opened it and stood for a moment looking over the paper to make sure that he was not being followed.
He was not about to do anything he wanted to hide. He wanted to know simply if he was under surveillance. General Obregon was entirely capable of wanting to know how he spent his weekends, and he had many friends in the Policía Federal who would be willing to do a favor for the new Director of the Bureau of Internal Security.
He saw no cars that could belong to the Policía Federal, but he waited until the traffic signal changed and the line of traffic moved off (no car had remained behind, or was moving unusually slowly). Then he folded the newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and went to the ticket window to purchase a ticket.
He walked slowly down the winding path until he came to the elephant enclosure, where several children and their parents were doling out peanuts to a pair of elephants. A somewhat ruffled middle-aged man was also there, doing the same.
“Buenas tardes, Milton,” Martín said to him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Ah, Bernardo,” Milton Leibermann said, and offered
both his hand and the bag of peanuts.
Martín took several peanuts and held them out to the elephant.
“So what’s new, Bernardo?” Milton Leibermann asked.