“Tenientes,” he said, “are these aircraft in as good shape as they appear to be?”
One of them found his voice.
“Sir, so far as I know, they are in perfect shape.”
“May I ask how much experience you have in short-field landing?”
“Sir, we practice that technique regularly.”
“In other words, you would have no trouble with putting one of these down on a field a little longer than a polo field?”
After a moment’s thought, one of the lieutenants said, “No, sir.”
Clete unkindly suspected that their practice had been trying to put a Piper down as close to the end of a runway as they could, then trying to see how short they could make the landing roll.
Well, there’s nothing that can be done about that.
“What we’re going to do now is: I am going to take one of these and fly it to my house. One of you will take the other one and follow me. All I can tell you is to suggest you make your approach as slowly and carefully as you know how.”
“Yes, sir.”
Frade turned to Rawson.
“Well, sir, I’ll see everybody at Casa Montagna,” he said, and then made a little joke. “Unless, of course, you want to ride up there with me and save yourself an hour’s drive.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rawson announced. “General Nervo can go in the other airplane.”
“Sir, I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t,” President Rawson said. “Father Kurt tells me you have a radio there capable of talking to Buenos Aires.”
“To Jorge Frade, sir. The airfield and Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. Only.”
“Whatever its limitations, we’ll have more communication than we have now standing around here. How soon can we leave?”
“Just as soon as I top off the fuel tanks,” Clete said, and motioned for General Nervo to get into one of the Cubs. “I’m sure you will find this interesting, Simple Policeman. In Texas, they use these airplanes to catch speeders on the highways.”
[ELEVEN]
Edelweiss Hotel
San Martín 202
San Carlos de Bariloche
1635 16 October 1943
Although Señor Jorge Schenck and Señor Otto Körtig arrived at the Edelweiss within minutes of each other, they didn’t see each other for some time.
When Schenck, his wife, el Coronel Juan D. Perón, and Señorita Evita Duarte returned from their visit to Estancia Puesta de Sol Schenck, they had parked the Ford station wagon in front of the hotel on Calle San Martín. Then they had gone to the bar via the lobby.
As they were being shown to a table, Schenck saw Señor Suarez, the real-estate man, sitting with another man he correctly guessed to be the bureaucrat who was going to be necessary to witness Perón’s signature on the deed. Schenck made a simple series of gestures telling Señor Suarez not to recognize him and to stay where he was until summoned.
Then he followed the others to a table, where he announced he needed a drink, a real drink.
Señorita Duarte thought that was a splendid idea, and said so. El Coronel Perón said that he would have a little taste of Johnnie Walker Black himself. When the waiter came, Señor Schenck ordered Johnnie Walker Black, doubles, all around.
Two or three rounds like that and Casanova, if encouraged by Señorita Evita, will happily sign the menu or anything else she puts in front of him.