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“Thanks, baby,” he said as he embraced his wife.
“First, did Len get away all right?” she asked.
“At this moment, he is in the Copacabana Palace Hotel in Rio sipping champagne and ogling the near-naked ladies on the beach.”
“I’m serious,” she said, not amused. “What about the film?”
"So am I. I should have added, he has an armed guard, courtesy of the U.S. Army Air Forces, who will stay with him until he—and the film—takes off in the Pan American clipper. And second?”
“Why did you have to fly down here in the dark?”
“Well, for one thing—not that I’m not grateful for the landing lights—it wasn’t dark.”
“You were taking an unnecessary chance. The station wagon’s at the house; you should have driven.”
“I had two things in mind. In addition to knowing when there wouldn’t be enough light to land here.”
“Which were?”
“My stomach told me to go home to get something to eat. I didn’t get to eat any lunch. And I needed to see that ugly gaucho.” He turned. “How goes it, El Jefe?”
Schultz, who of course was wearing his gaucho costume, smiled at him.
“If you weren’t such a bloody ass,” Dorotea said, “the proper response would have been, ‘I couldn’t wait to be with my beloved wife.’ ”
Clete smiled. “That, too, of course.”
Enrico walked up.
“Everything okay at Casa Chica, Enrico?”
“It is under control, Don Cletus.”
“Then it’s time for my supper,” Clete said. “A bife de chorizo, I think, with a glass—perhaps a bottle—of merlot. And during supper, Jefe, I will dictate a message to Graham which I want you to get out an hour ago.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dorotea said.
“Excuse me?”
“After consulting with Oscar and Enrico, I’ve made some changes in our operation. ”
Now what?
“Made some changes in our operation”?
“Oh, really? Such as?”
“It will save time if I show you,” she said, “rather than trying to explain.”
When they got to the big house, Dorotea led everybody to what had been El Coronel Frade’s study. Schultz walked quickly ahead of them and unlocked the heavy door.
Where the hell did Schultz get a key? Enrico’s got one, but I never gave Schultz one.
Which means Dorotea did.
What the hell is going on?
The answer to that became apparent the moment the lights were switched on in the study. Something had changed. It still was lined with books and framed photos, but the furniture had been rearranged and a sturdy table added. The new table sat close to one wall. On it was a Collins transceiver and the SIGABA encryption device.
