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You should have thought of this before, Stupid!
He’s probably on one of the boats about to land on the island.
Because he’s commanding the operation.
And because if he expects to shoot my Tío Juan
, he’s going to try to do it by the book, not just murder him. By the book means the convening of a summary court-martial, having the court find him guilty of treason, and then, and only then, standing him against a wall facing a firing squad.
And what is Lopez going to do when he learns that Tío Juan is not on the island?
There has to be a Plan B—maybe even Plans B, C, D, and E. So far Lopez has had a plan for everything.
And once he got on those boats and headed for the island, he knew he was committed. There was no going back.
So what’s Plan B?
Jesus Christ! You should have thought of this a long time ago, Super Spy!
“If el Coronel Perón is not on Isla Martín García, or for some other reason manages to escape arrest and thus avoid court-martial, then he will be shot to death whenever or wherever he is located.”
The one thing Lopez can’t allow to happen, now that he’s actually started this operation, is have Tío Juan get away.
Lopez knows that failure means Lopez gets the firing squad. He’s going to do whatever he can to stay alive. If that means killing Perón—and whoever’s with him—out of hand, then so be it. . . .
Frade’s chain of thought was interrupted when he heard Perón’s voice in his headset.
“What are you thinking of doing, Cletus?”
“As soon as I land, while we’re still on the runway, you and I are going to get out of the Storch as quickly as possible. You and I will lie in the grass by the side of the runway. Martín will then taxi toward the terminal. When he’s out of our sight, we’ll run to the nearest Lodestar and get in it and fly to Mendoza. Got it?”
“Don’t you need a second pilot to fly a Lodestar?” Perón protested.
“I don’t. Now give the headset to General Martín.”
“Yes?” Martín then said.
“Change of plans, Bernardo. We’re all going to get in the Lodestar.”
“Why?”
“Because I think that the Horse Rifles are going to shoot first and ask questions later.”
Martín didn’t reply.
“What I’m going to do is leave the runway and taxi to the first Lodestar. I’ll get out and get Perón out and drag him to the Lodestar—”
“What I will do is taxi halfway to the terminal,” Martín interrupted him. “Then I will stop, get out, and raise my hands . . .”
“And that’s when they’ll shoot you,” Clete said.
“. . . and do whatever I can to stall the Horse Soldiers. The priority is to keep el Coronel Perón alive. The more time you have to get in the Lodestar, start the engines, taxi to the runway—”
“So long, Bernardo. It’s been nice to know you.”
“God be with you, Cletus,” Martín said.
“You sonofabitch,” Clete said.
