by Jerold Last
"Excellent," I said. "I assume you're also checking out who owns these processing plants."
"Of course we are."
We said good-bye and hung up.
Suzanne reminded me of the time, saying, "Let's get going if we want to arrive on time. You'll tell me all about that call in the cab as we go. I decided to take the Rio de la Plata option for getting wet. I figure when in Montevideo, do as the Uruguayans do."
Fifteen minutes later we were a couple of blocks from Juan Ramirez's house, getting out of the cab along the Rambla near Pocito. It was still light, still hot, and still humid. Suzanne walked to the edge of the Rambla, stepped over the low rock wall that separated the sidewalk from the beach, and walked across the broad beach to the river. She waded into the water until she was waist deep, dove in, splashed a bit, turned around, and rejoined me on the Rambla. "Good idea," she said with a sexy little smile, "I feel a lot cooler now."
The rest of the way from the beach to Juan's house, a block inland from the Rambla, took less than three minutes to walk. Everyone was out in the small backyard, and we were invited to join them. Juan's introductions were on a first name basis only.
"Roger, Suzanne, I'd like you to meet Colorado, Pancho, Bernardo, Carlos, and Tomas." Strikingly, they were all men, no wives or pertinent others accompanied them. Two were Spanish nicknames: Colorado, or "Red", was a well built man in his early forties, good looking, with red hair and the general carriage of a man who worked with his hands in a job that required physical labor. Pancho, the common diminutive nickname for Francisco, was an older banker type, pudgy with manicured fingernails and a fussy looking expression on his face. Bernardo looked a lot like a slightly blurry and strongly suntanned copy of Clint Eastwood, 60-ish, tall, with chiseled features that had begun to sag. He had obviously been very handsome in his younger days. Carlos looked exactly the same as he had when we met him both times in Sao Miguel do Oeste. Tomas rounded out the group in every sense of the term. He looked like a short, fat, partially bald Friar Tuck in his 50s.
Suzanne conveyed the exact image I had hoped for. She left wet footprints at each step and her soaking-wet Levis and t-shirt clung to her curves. Her wet blond hair hung down to her shoulders, dripping. She was obviously the focal point of attention for the six men at the party, seven if you include me.
Carlos was the first to speak. "Your samples were sent to UCLA this morning before I flew here, my beautiful Goddess Porá-sy. I think you will be very pleased with them."
Carlos continued to act as the spokesman for the group. I couldn’t tell yet whether he served this role because he was the leader or because he already knew us.
“As a group we represent the National Socialist Party branches in each of the Mercosur countries. Colorado is Argentina, I’m Brazil, Pancho is Chile, Bernardo is Uruguay, and Tomas is Paraguay. Our identities are not public knowledge. In each country we have patriotic Nazis like Juan who are the face of the Party. They do the really hard work like recruitment and fund raising, which leaves us free for planning and administration.”
I snuck a look at Juan, who was almost preening at the praise he received from Carlos. He was definitely not the brightest bulb in the chandelier at this meeting.
Carlos continued, “We're meeting here in Montevideo to discuss an opportunity that has suddenly come to our attention. It's possible that you can be of some help to us. For now we've planned an hour of drinks and snacks so we can chat and get to know one another. Later on, we'll eat dinner and return to this discussion.”
One of the many little tricks I've learned as a private detective is how to aim a pistol or camera while shielding it in my hand so people don’t know I'm going to shoot them, one way or the other. I took advantage of Suzanne’s wet look being the focus of the other six pairs of eyes to slip my new cell phone out of my pocket into my cupped hand and took several snapshots of the assembled Nazis for future reference. The phone went back into my pocket. I was pretty sure that nobody saw anything other than Suzanne dripping all over the patio in her persona as a pagan Goddess.
The entire group sat down at the table with tapas and wine. Both the wine and the snacks were excellent. Each of the Nazis wanted to tell us a little bit about the current political climate in their home countries and each had the same questions. To summarize:
All of the Mercosur countries had elected left-wing liberal leaders in their last elections, as had almost all of South America. Most of these new leaders were women, especially in the larger countries. This trend made the Nazi Party leadership unhappy.
They wanted to know more about us.
"What did we do? What kind of family did we grow up in? What were we doing here in Montevideo?"
I answered questions #1 and #2. "Suzanne is a Professor of Biochemistry at UCLA in California. I'm an attorney who specializes in patent law." This was a cover story I've used before, especially with Suzanne’s neighbors in Beverly Hills. As it happens I really am an attorney and really used to practice patent law, so if anyone checks me out it's easily verified.
"I grew up in a close-knit Christian family in San Diego, while Suzanne grew up in a close-knit Christian family in Sacramento." I hoped my nose wasn’t growing longer like Pinocchio's as I told these lies.
Suzanne answered question #3, describing her research project and explaining that she was travelling on NIH grant funds to pay for our trip. She made it sound like a combination of work and play, and pointed out her new collaborations with Carlos and Professora Colletti as examples of the work part.
Juan announced that dinner was ready. We went into a formal dining room to eat. A large oak table easily had room for the eight of us. No woman other than Suzanne was invited. Dinner was a beautiful suckling pig, a fish dish, several side dishes, a salad, and desert. White and red wines were available. The six Nazis relaxed and settled back when they saw us eating, and enjoying, the pork.
Dinner conversation was mostly small talk during the fish course, but turned serious with the main course.
“Our little group here met in Punta del Este last week to discuss what to do about the new liberal governments in our home countries,” began Carlos. "Our solution will be to form a new political party in western Santa Caterina and eastern Paraguay. After our new party wins the election we will secede from Brazil and Paraguay to make a new country committed to traditional conservative values. Our polls show that we have substantial support and will win if we can mobilize the indigenous vote behind us. That's where you two come in. The moment I saw Porá-sy walk into my office last week and heard her speak Spanish fluently I knew she was sent by the gods. With her beauty, blond hair, and blue eyes she is the personification of Aryan womanhood. She is truly the Goddess Porá-sy in our legend. With her standing by my side for two weeks next fall, we will get 99% of the native vote in the elections.
"We know you share our views. Tonight we are inviting you, Roger, to join our council and Suzanne to join me next September in changing history. With our own nation here in South America we will attract the best and strongest like-minded people from all over the world to join us in building a new world order."
Suzanne spoke up. "As scientists, Carlos and I are both trained to examine both sides of any issues that may arise. I don't think any reasonable person would argue against the core values of family and social order, but are you sure this is the best way to achieve these goals?"
Carlos turned to me and said, "Now you know why we only allow men on our leadership council."
Carlos stood up, raised his drink in salute, and shouted "Today Santa Caterina, tomorrow the world!" The other five men at the table also stood and raised their arms in the traditional Nazi salute. We just sat still in amazement.
Carlos turned to Suzanne and said, "I know this is a lot to assimilate in a short time. Will you and Roger please join me tomorrow to see Punta del Este, Uruguay's famous tourist destination? We can discuss this further after you have time to think about joining our cause."
&n
bsp; Carlos volunteered to pick us up at the hotel after breakfast for the drive to the Atlantic coast and Punta del Este. He promised us we would be back in time for any dinner plans we might have already made.
Juan called for a taxi. Five minutes later we heard the horn, said our good nights, and got in the cab to the hotel. We were not sure about the driver, so said little on the way back.
Once we got back I called our two policemen allies on the cell phone and suggested a discrete meeting in our hotel room. I asked Eduardo to bring a flash memory stick. If the Nazis were watching the hotel they would not see us go out. Both agreed to meet us in 30 minutes, taking the stairs to make sure they were not seen on the elevator to our floor.
We took a quick shower together to wash off any traces of our dinner companions and to try to wash away what they had said. Suzanne finally had an excuse to wear the second, dry pair of Levis she had packed for the trip.
Thirty minutes later we were debriefing the two cops about our meeting.
“From your description Carlos de Silva is either totally brilliant or totally insane,” suggested Martin Gonzalez. “Quite frankly, I think he’s both.” He turned to Eduardo. “You know a lot more than I do about economic and social conditions in Paraguay and Brazil. Is there any chance that de Silva’s Nazis could create a popular movement for secession?”
“Definitely yes if he could get the indigenous bloc and the disaffected poor people to vote and they buy into his Goddess legend. Almost all of Santa Caterina's resources go to Florianopolis and the urban population centers in the eastern part of the state. The western half is poor and doesn't feel connected to Brazil except at Iguazu Falls, which isn't even in the state of Santa Caterina but is actually in Parana.”
We talked a little longer about the proposed rise of the Fourth Reich in western Brazil and eastern Paraguay. Everything that any of us could think of to say was pure speculation.
“Your Goddess approach for dinner was brilliant Suzanne,” complemented Martin. “It played right into de Silva’s ego. It's possible that he may also be more than a little bit in lust, if not actually in love, with you in your Goddess persona, and I can certainly understand the attraction. You’re a truly beautiful woman, Suzanne. I envy Roger.”
“Give all the credit for tonight’s appearance by the Pagan-Aryan Goddess Porá-sy to Roger,” replied Suzanne. “It was his idea. I really didn’t understand why he suggested my not so spontaneous dip in the river until we got there and I saw the reaction those guys had. Now it’s my turn to ask a question. How did you guess that Carlos de Silva would be Brazil’s representative at dinner there, Roger?”
"There were a whole lot of clues. The first hint is a bit obvious. We have the five top Nazis in the Mercosur who are keeping their identities so secret that the two top cops in the region don't know anything about who they are. They're super paranoid about being found out so they kill Maria. Now they're inviting Suzanne and me to drinks and dinner. That doesn't make any sense, does it? So, somebody very important must have vouched for us to them. Is that Juan? No, he's got to be a total joke to them, just like he is to us. It almost has to be someone who is one of the gang of five Nazi leaders who knows us and is saying we're so OK that we can become numbers six and seven who are in on the big secret. Is there anyone we've met who could be that sponsor? Somehow, Carlos seems a pretty good fit. This is enough to make me suspicious. But there's more.
“There was another clue that Carlos was the boss once I thought about it a bit. Until we got to Sao Miguel do Oeste, all of the Nazis we called and invited to dinner loved the lomo and the free meals and were only too happy to meet us and share their passion for the movement. As soon as we got to Sao Miguel, boom, now they don’t care about free food and just want us to donate money to the cause. Something was wrong with this picture. The obvious question is what happened that changed the dynamic between the two of us and the Nazis on Juan’s list. The only answers I could think of were we crossed the border from Uruguay to Brazil, which was a possibility but not particularly logical, or someone changed the standing orders to eat our food and make nice to us after we got to Santa Caterina. Who had we met that had the power to tell the local Nazis what to do? That was simple because before we had our dinner with the Goularts we had only met one person after we left Uruguay. And that was our friend Carlos, the botanist. I admit that it was very improbable that we met the boss Nazi in Brazil purely by chance because Suzanne was looking for a botanist. Nevertheless, that seemed to be the only answer that fit all of the facts.
“Finally, Carlos also struck me as being a little bit off both of the times we met him in Sao Miguel. The whole indigenous Guarani legend thing about the return of the modern version of Porá-sy seemed to be over the top. Then it hit me that Maria Fajao, our Ambivalent Corpse, was originally from Sao Miguel do Oeste. It’s a small town. Despite the difference in their ages, the odds are excellent that she knew him while she was growing up. I began to get curious about whether he recognized her at the Punta del Este meeting. If he recognized her, then he would assume that she recognized him. I wonder if the possibility that she could go public that he is a high level Nazi might have been a motive for murder.”
"It certainly could be," Martin agreed, "But we'd need a lot more evidence before we could do anything about it. There are still a lot of other possibilities we have to rule out, like the estranged husband. Including the other four Nazi leaders who may have killed to protect their secret identities."
“Martin, what do you think would happen if we told Carlos that we were the ones who found Maria Fajao’s body? Would the big coincidence make him suspicious of us or do you think he would tell us who dismembered the body and why the killing was staged the way it was?” I asked.
“He’s arrogant enough to brag about it to you, but it’s always a risk trying to guess what a crazy man might do. I think it’s too big a risk for you two to take unless we're a lot more desperate than we are now.”
I transferred copies of the photos of the five Nazi leaders on my phone to Eduardo's flash drive so he could identify who was who at the meeting. He looked at the photos on my phone's screen and shook his head no. Eduardo passed my phone with the photos to Martin to examine. Martin also shook his head no, but he hesitated briefly before responding. I mentally filed this slight hesitation for future reference.
“It’s interesting that neither Martin nor I recognize any of these gentlemen,” Eduardo observed. “Either this is a splinter group with no real following or these guys really are flying under the radar, which makes them even more dangerous. My guess is under the radar and dangerous.”
We told the two police detectives about tomorrow's planned outing to Punta del Este with Carlos de Silva and the time he was going to pick us up at the hotel.
“What about tomorrow?” I asked. "Should we risk going with him?"
“It seems like a perfect opportunity for you and The Goddess to try to get some of the information we need out of Carlos de Silva. Maybe you could get him to brag about the killing or to tell you which Nazi Maria was with in Punta del Este. Was it Carlos himself or was it one of the others? I think the more you can find ways to stroke his ego, the more likely he is to let something important slip out,” suggested Eduardo.
“Isn’t that too dangerous to risk?” Martin asked Eduardo.
“The risk can be minimized, but I won’t try to lie to you. It can’t be completely avoided. There’s always a big risk trying to predict what a crazy man will do. But as long as he thinks he can use you for his own political gain next fall, you should be safe. And you are even safer if Martin is right and he has fallen in love with either Suzanne or her Goddess persona. If you get a chance, you might want to find an excuse to change once again into your Goddess persona right in front of de Silva's eyes, Suzanne.
"We can follow your car to Punta del Este tomorrow and promise you some level of security,” Eduardo volunteered. “But you need to stay in the car, only go into public places l
ike restaurants, or walk around the city out in the open. Stay off of any boats and don’t go into any private apartments. If things seem to be getting scary, don’t pull your punches like you did with my men in Ciudad de Este. I think you can feel free to do some real damage to de Silva if it’s in self-defense. Martin, can you guarantee that nobody in any Uruguayan police departments will officially care about a broken Nazi?”
“Yes, I can guarantee that as long as there is a credible witness that you were threatened you can do anything short of killing him to defend yourself with no legal repercussions. If there is any investigation I will be the one in charge of it so I can predict the outcome with 100% certainty.”
Our police friends talked about a lot of dos and don'ts for tomorrow and about how Punta del Este is laid out in general terms. There were areas Eduardo and Martin thought were safer that we should agree to see if Carlos suggested them or ask to see if he didn't. We should have dinner plans with other people here in Montevideo for 9:00 so we could expect to return to the hotel before dark, and assume that we would be under surveillance by the Nazis from now until we left Uruguay to return home to California. A safer place to meet than the hotel was now an urgent necessity. Martin would be responsible for making those arrangements.