“If I start answering questions, do I get to ask questions?”
“Within reason.”
“Then I will answer questions within reason. First answer, true. You now owe me one.”
“Does Coronel Juan Domingo Perón know the identity of Galahad?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. Now you owe me two.”
“Would you like Perón to know his identity?”
“I’ll take my first question now,” Clete said. “Why did you ask that question?”
“Perón asked the German ambassador for his help in getting someone back here from Germany. I thought it might be Galahad.”
“Got a name?”
“The German pilot Major von Wachtstein. That’s your two questions.”
“Alicia Carzino-Cormano is in the family way. Von Wachtstein is the father.”
“That’s the truth?”
“Does that count as a question?”
“A small question.”
“That’s the truth. I got that from my wife, who said Perón is ‘taking care of things.’ I am not supposed to know either about the baby or Perón.”
“OK.”
“If I asked how you got von Wachtstein’s name, would that be a small question?”
“It would be a very large question, which I can’t answer.”
“If I were in the intelligence business, I really would like to have someone in the Germany Embassy.”
Martín chuckled.
“You know who Almond’s looking for, don’t you?”
“That would be a big answer, worth a big question from me.”
“Agreed.”
“Yeah, I know who he is. Will I give it to you? No. So don’t ask.”
“You don’t want me to know, and you don’t want Almond to know, and you don’t want Perón to know.”
“If that’s a question, yes.”
“It was a statement, but I’ll give you a question.”
“I’ll swap all my questions for one favor,” Clete said.
“I’ll listen to the proposal.”
“If you find out who Galahad is, would you tell me before you tell anyone else?”