“I just put this on,” Martín said, indicating his uniform. “How does it feel to be back in uniform, Gonzo?”
“Good,” Delgano said, meaning it.
Delgano was also an intelligence officer, who had been working undercover for Martín, charged with keeping an eye on el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, the power behind the GOU. Frade had hired the ostensibly just-about-to-retire Capitán Delgano to pilot his Staggerwing Beechcraft.
The job had been personally difficult for Delgano. He liked el Coronel Frade—whom he had served under when Frade had been deputy commander of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment in Santo Tomé. Deceiving him, spying on him, had not come easy. Yet he had done his duty.
After el Coronel Frade’s assassination, he had stayed on at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo to surveille Frade’s son—not only a Yankee gringo, but worse, an agent of the American OSS. However, Frade had learned during the revolution that Delgano was in fact a serving intelligence officer, and that of course ended his usefulness, insofar as keeping an eye on Cletus Frade was concerned.
Since the cover story about Delgano’s retirement was now useless, Martín had arranged for the first postrevolution Daily Army Journal to announce that Captain Gonzalo Delgano had fully recovered from an unspecified illness and had been recalled to active duty in the grade of major.
Since that particular issue of the Daily Army Journal had consisted of sixteen pages of small type, most of it announcing the retirement of officers who had supported the deposed government, no one would pay much attention to an apparently routine personnel action for a lowly captain.
“The President telephoned me yesterday to say that, on the advice of General Ramírez and Coronel Perón, he has decided to name General Obregon as Director of BIS,” Martín said. “He also suggested that the General might drop in for an unofficial visit. A friend told me when he planned to come. Hence, the uniform.”
Martín knew that Delgano shared his opinion of General Obregon, but neither his large dark eyes nor his face suggested that he was surprised or disappointed.
Or anything, Martín thought with approval. Intelligence officers should be like poker players. None of their feelings should show.
“And I thought we should have a talk before you officially report for duty,” Martín went on. “So I called you.”
Delgano nodded and smiled. “May I say, mi Coronel, that the coronel’s insignia looks very nice on your epaulets?”
“As does the mayor’s insignia on yours, Mayor.”
Their eyes met for a moment, and they smiled at each other.
“We are going to have to be very careful, Gonzo.”
Delgano nodded. “I would like to know if some sort of deal was struck,” he said. “Or whether Rawson was unwilling to resist a suggestion from Ramírez.”
“Ramírez and Perón.”
“I really thought Perón wanted the job,” Delgano said.
“I think he has greater ambitions,” Martín said.
Delgano nodded. “As does Ramírez,” he said.
“And the ambitions of both require their man in here,” Martín said. “They learned from Castillo’s mistake in trusting Admiral Montoya.
”
“And how do they regard you? For that matter, us?”
“With a little bit of luck, they will regard us as technicians without ambition.”
Delgano nodded his agreement.
“With your permission, Gonzo, I will suggest to General Obregon that you become his personal pilot.”
“I would be honored with such an assignment, mi Coronel,” Delgano said.
There was no sarcasm in Delgano’s reply. Martín understood why: Delgano was honored that he trusted him to surveille General Obregon, thus serving Argentina.
“Thank you, Gonzo,” Martín said.
“It’s nothing,” Delgano said.