“And perhaps they contained enough explosives to blow up the Edificio Libertador! Did that occur to you?”
Habanzo considered the question seriously.
“I do not think it was possible that the boxes contained that quantity of explosives, mi Coronel.”
“I was speaking figuratively, Habanzo.”
“Yes, of course, mi Coronel.”
“Tell me about the beach radios.”
“You know the type, mi Coronel. They are powered by batteries, and you can take them with you. To the park, for example, or the beach. Theirs did not work.”
“They had two portable radios? And they did not work?”
“Sí, mi Coronel. They did not work. The customs man tried them, and all he heard was a hiss.”
“You don’t think it suspicious that each had a radio?”
Habanzo shrugged and held up his hands helplessly.
“Did he tell you what these portable radios looked like?”
“Like oversized telephones.”
Habanzo, you are an idiot of unbelievable magnitude!
“Habanzo, two months ago, through the courtesy of el Coronel Grüner of the German Embassy, I was treated to a lecture of the latest German communications equipment. One of the items he was kind enough to show me was a portable communications radio. It had a range of several kilometers, weighed three kilograms, and looked like an oversized telephone, to which was attached an automobile antenna. Do you suppose that only Germans possess such electrical genius, or do you think it is possible that the norteamericanos might come up with something comparable?”
“You think they
were communications radios, mi Coronel?”
“I think we must consider that possibility, don’t you?”
They didn’t go to Uruguay to pick up a couple of radios. Those would have been sent to them via the diplomatic pouches of the American Embassy. So what were they doing in Uruguay?
“I could send someone into the Frade guest house, mi Coronel, to examine the radios. If they are still there.”
“If they are still there?”
“On his way to the port to pick up his car, Frade stopped at Calle Monroe 214, in Belgrano, at the apartment of Señor David Ettinger, an employee of the Banco de Boston. He carried a shopping bag containing a straw chicken. He did not have the straw chicken with him when he left.”
“We must consider the possibility, mustn’t we, that the straw chicken was a present from Señor Frade to Señor Ettinger?”
“The shopping bag was large enough, mi Coronel, to also contain the radios. Or something else.”
“Permission denied,” Martín said after a moment. “I don’t want any intrusion into the living quarters of any of these three without my specific approval. Understood?”
“Sí, mi Coronel.”
“Who inspected young Frade’s automobile at the port?” Martín asked, picking up a report from his desk.
“Two of our men, under my personal supervision, mi Coronel.”
In that case, he could have smuggled in two elephants.
“And?”