Clete shrugged.
“Maybe later. Nestor strikes me as a very cautious man.” He smiled at Ettinger. “All things considered, you like being a banker?”
Ettinger looked at Clete a moment as if wondering if he should say what he wanted to. He glanced around to make sure no one was within eavesdropping range, and then said, “I had a very strange, disturbing thing happen to me yesterday.”
“What was that?”
“I went to see some people I used to know…”
“Used to know”? Oh. In Germany. One of the Jewish families on Nestor’s list.
“People named Klausner. A man named Ernst Klausner. We were rather close at one time. Until he found out what I was doing here—”
“You told him?” Clete interrupted, shocked and then angry.
Jesus Christ, here he goes again. First he tells his mother he’s going to Argentina, and then he tells somebody he used to know—
“I told him I was in the Army, nothing else. At that point, he pulled the welcome mat out from under my feet. He told me he was now an Argentinean, not a German, and that as an Argentinean, he should report me to the authorities. For auld lang syne, he wouldn’t, but don’t come back.”
“Jesus! Was this before or after you asked him about the ships?”
“I didn’t get as far as asking him anything. And he didn’t seem at all concerned what the Germans are doing to Jews in Germany. He’s out, and that’s all he cares about it.”
“Did you tell Nestor?”
“Of course.”
Well, Nestor is the Station Chief. If he’s not upset that David ran off at the mouth, why should I be?
Because if we get caught, we go to jail, or worse, not Nestor.
“And what was his reaction?”
“He said there were a lot of other names on the list.”
Two other men came to the window, effectively shutting off further conversation. A moment later, Nestor rejoined them.
“We owe you an apology for keeping you waiting, Clete,” he said, handing Ettinger a drink.
“Not at all.”
“We were out buying David a car.”
“Really?”
“A ’39 Ford, with the steering wheel on the wrong side,” Ettinger said.
“You’ll have to take me for a ride in it,” Clete said.
“As soon as I actually get it, I’d be delighted to.”
“This is Argentina, Clete,” Nestor explained. “You don’t buy a car and drive off the lot with it the same day. With a little bit of luck, David may lay his hands on it in a week or ten days.”
“I love the view from here,” Ettinger said. “Look at that blonde!”
Clete had noticed her too. A stunning female, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pale-yellow dress.
“Her husband is probably standing at the bar,” Clete said, laughing.