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"Of course, the records may have been destroyed when Dresden was firebombed. What's interesting is that there is no record of his having immigrated to Argentina, or having been issued a DNI. Or of Herr Schmidt becoming an Argentine citizen. What I did learn was he bought this place-it was then four hundred sixteen hectares of forestland-and began construction of the house two months after it was alleged that a German submarine laden with cash and jewelry and gold had discharged its cargo near Mar del Plata and then scuttled itself at sea."
Pevsner handed Charley a glass, held his own up, and tapped rims.
"To friends you can really trust, friend Charley."
"Amen, brother. May their tribe increase."
"Unlikely, but a nice thought," Pevsner replied, took a sip, then went on: "Such a submarine was found eighteen months ago off Mar del Plata, incidentally. Probably just a coincidence."
"I know that story. There were three of them loaded with loot. One was known to have been sunk in the English Channel. The second is known to have made it here. I thought the third one just disappeared."
"It did. But-from what I have learned-only after it unloaded its cargo here in Argentina. Anyway, Herr Schmidt lived very quietly-one might say secretly-here with his family-a wife, a daughter, and a son-until his wife died. Then he passed on. Under Argentine law, property passes equally to children. The son-no one seems to know where he got the cash-bought out his sister's share, and she went to live in Buenos Aires, where she met and married an American, and subsequently moved to the United States.
"The son married an Argentine, and aside from shopping trips to Buenos Aires and Santiago, Chile-never to Europe, which I found interesting-lived here with his wife and their only son-the fellow from whom I bought the place-much as his father had done. I understand that the father-and, later, the son-were silent partners in a number of business enterprises here.
"When the son passed on, the widow did not want to live here alone, so she moved to Buenos Aires. The property sat unused for some years, until at her death it was finally put on the market and I bought it. Interestingly, they reduced the asking price considerably on condition I pay cash. More specifically, in gold. And that payment take place in the United Arab Emirates."
"What are you suggesting, Alek? That the guy who built this place was a Nazi?"
"I'm suggesting nothing, friend Charley. But I, too, noticed the architectural similarity to the r
eception hall at Carinhall, and went to some lengths to check that out. Between you and me, friend Charley, if Hermann Goring walked in the front door, he would think he was in Carinhall. I wouldn't be surprised if Herr Schmidt used the same architect. For that matter, the same drawings.
"That led me to look into which business associates of Goring-not party members or people like that-had gone missing during and after the war. No luck in making a connection with Herr Schmidt."
"What you are suggesting is that some Nazi big shot did in fact get away with running off to here."
"That has happened, you know. Just a year or so ago, they found that the owner of a hotel here in Bariloche, a man named Pribke, had been an SS officer deeply involved in the massacre at the Ardeatine Caves outside Rome. He was extradited to Italy. And actually, friend Charley, there is an interesting legend that one of the founders of this area was an American, from Texas, who was here because the authorities were looking for him at home."
"Butch Cassidy? The Sundance Kid?" Castillo asked, sarcastically.
Pevsner shook his head. "They were in Bolivia."
"I didn't know you were such a history buff, Alek."
Pevsner looked into Castillo's eyes for a long moment.
"What I am, friend Charley, is a man who would like to build a future for his children that would be unconnected with their father's past. I am more than a little jealous of Herr Schmidt."
Castillo looked at him but didn't reply.
Jesus Christ, he's serious.
Where's he going with this?
"You're a father, you will understand," Pevsner went on.
Actually, Alek, I'm having a hard time accepting that I am a father.
But, yeah. I understand.
"I think so," Castillo said.
"I never thought-I am a pragmatist-that I could do what Herr Schmidt did. These are different times. But I did think that I could perhaps do something like it. Did you see The Godfather?"
Now what?
Castillo nodded.
