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“If it has to do with what I think you’re going to say, I won’t.”
“Get rid of Rudy. Distance yourself from him. Publicly.”
“I don’t turn my back on my friends, Eduardo. You should know that.”
“And of course there is that other problem of yours,” Ramos went on. “I heard this myself from a general officer I’m sure is part of this—”
“If you’re sure he’s part of this, why don’t you tell Martín, and have Martín arrest him for treason?”
“I’m sure General Martín heard what I heard. I’m sure General Martín reported what he heard to the president—and since the officer in question has not been arrested, I think it’s obvious that the president doesn’t think arresting him at this time is wise.”
“Why not?”
“General Farrell does not want the officer corps split in two, and believes that arresting this officer—or any of the officers close to him—would do exactly that. How many times have you heard Edelmiro say that the one thing Argentina cannot afford is a civil war? He saw what happened in Spain, and it really affected him.”
Perón considered that a moment, and then asked, thickly sarcastic, “Just what else did you hear this general officer whose arrest would likely plunge us into civil war say?”
“‘If he’d only get rid of the blonde,’” Ramos quoted.
“Presumably he was referring to Señorita Duarte?” Perón asked sarcastically.
“Yes, I think he probably was,” Ramos said, also sarcastically. “For God’s sake, Juan Domingo, she’s twenty-five years younger than you are!”
“Actually, twenty-four,” Perón corrected him. “And my relationship with the lady is none of anybody’s business.”
“They think it is. They think it reflects badly on the honor and prestige of the officer corps. They think it is conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.”
“And you, Eduardo, do you think my relationship with Señorita Duarte is conduct unbecoming?”
“What I think isn’t germane. What they think is the point here.”
“‘Judge not, lest ye be judged’?”
“Something like that,” Ramos agreed. “Juan Domingo . . .”
“What?”
“They have also heard that young Frade threw you out of his house on Libertador when he found you there with an even younger female.”
“Cletus is going to these officers with tales like that?” Perón asked furiously.
“I’m sure he didn’t. But you must have known that story would come out.”
“Why should it come out? What happened between Cletus Frade and me—my God, I’m his godfather!—is personal, a family matter.”
“And I’m sure your godson feels the same way.”
“Then how did it reach these people if he didn’t run off at the mouth?”
“When Jorge was murdered, Sergeant Major Rodríguez was driving his Horch. Rodríguez was badly wounded—”
“I know that. What’s your point?”
“—but survived. He took this to be divine intervention—that he was spared because God wanted him to protect Cletus. Rodríguez has never been far from Cletus since he was released from hospital. Cletus even takes him with him when he flies to Europe.”
“So?”
“Was Rodríguez there when Cletus asked you to leave the house on Libertador?”
