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“I would say that’s a given,” Duarte said.
“All the time that Capitán Delgano quote retired unquote was my father’s pilot he actually was working for Martín—the BIS. It was only when Martín decided that the coup was going to work, and enlisted in that noble enterprise, that that came out.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my father wrote Operation Blue, he made plans to avoid the firing squad in case they couldn’t pull it off. Delgano was to take his Beechcraft Staggerwing to Campo de Mayo and have it ready to fly my father, Rawson, and Ramírez to Paraguay. By the time they were ready to start Operation Blue, my father had been assassinated, and the Staggerwing was on the bottom of Samborombón Bay.
“Delgano came to me three days before they were to go, told me that he had been working for Martín all along, and that Martín wanted to use the Lodestar to get people out of the country. So I spent two days teaching him how to fly it, and then decided if my father had wanted to get rid of Castillo and his government so badly, I was obliged to put my two cents in. So I flew the Lodestar to Campo de Mayo.”
“I never heard any of this before.”
“My role in the coup became something like a state secret. Nobody, maybe especially me, wanted it to come out.”
“You sound as if you did more than fly the Lodestar to Campo de Mayo.”
“I flew General Rawson around in one of their Piper Cubs when the two rebel columns were headed for the Casa Rosada. They had lost their communication and were about to start shooting at each other.”
“And you kept that from happening?”
Clete nodded.
“Ramírez knows this?”
Clete nodded.
“Wouldn’t that tend to make him think you’re a patriotic Argentine, instead of an American OSS agent?”
“Well, maybe if Delgano hadn’t been in Santo Tomé when I flew the Lodestar in from Brazil, with an OSS team on it.”
“He saw them?”
“He saw them, and he knows that I flew them to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. And since the day after the coup Delgano was back in uniform—a newly promoted major working for BIS—I have to assume Colonel Martín has got a pretty good idea what everybody looks like.”
“Are you saying you don’t want this man looking over your shoulder in your airline?”
“Not at all. Let him look. I’m not going to be doing anything, now, that I don’t want him to see or Martín or anyone else to know about.”
“And later?”
“We’ll see about later. Why does Perón want to be on the board of directors? To keep an eye on me?”
“That, too, probably, but there would be an honorarium.”
“A generous one?”
“Since you are going to be the majority stockholder, that would be up to you. I would recommend a generous one.”
“And he does what to earn it?”
“He gets permission for you to have the airline.”
“In other words, I’m bribing him.”
“We lawyers don’t use terms like this here, Cletus. We recognize things for being the way they are.”
“Okay. What’s the next step?”
“We form the S.A.—Sociedad Anónima, literally translated, ‘Anonymous Society,’ like an American corporation—and everybody signs it, and then you come up with, say, two million two hundred thousand dollars.”
