As he had dialed the SWC number again, he wondered if Mr. Finton ate Father’s ass for not letting people know where he was the way he had eaten his.
“The general will see you now, Lieutenant,” said Captain Zabrewski, who stood six feet four inches tall, weighed 230 pounds, and had a voice like a bass tuba.
Jack marched into Hanrahan’s office and saluted.
“Hey, Jack,” Hanrahan said, returning the salute with a wave in the general direction of his forehead, and smiling. “Where’s your friend?”
“Outside, sir. Sir, I was looking for Major Lunsford—”
Hanrahan silenced him with a raised hand and punched the lever on his intercom.
“Ski, run down Mr. Zammoro. When he shows up, send him and Mr. de la Santiago in, please.”
“Father’s not here,” Hanrahan said to Jack.
“Pappy Hodges told me to take Santiago to him, sir. Can I ask where he is?”
Hanrahan thought that over perceptibly.
“He’s on his way to Buenos Aires with Colonel Lowell.”
“Buenos Aires?” Jack asked incredulously.
“It may have something to do with this,” Hanrahan said. “Which Colonel Felter, for reasons I can’t imagine, felt he should share with me. It just came over the secure photo line.”
He handed Jack what was a wire photograph of a CIA memorandum.
SECRET
Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia
FROM: Assistant Director For Administration
FROM: 1 January 1965 1310 GMT
SUBJECT : Guevara, Ernesto (Memorandum #8.)
TO: Mr. Sanford T. Felter
Counselor To The President
Room 637, The Executive Office Building
Washington, D.C.
By Courier
In compliance with Presidential Memorandum to The Director, Subject: “Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara,” dated 14 December 1964, and in consideration of the fact that SUBJECT holds Argentinian citizenship by birth, the following information is furnished:
1. (Reliability Scale Three) (From CIA Buenos Aires) The Argentine Foreign Ministry has been informed by Argentine Ambassador in Madrid that former President Juan D. PERÓN has chartered an aircraft and intends to travel today from Lisbon, Portugal via Asuncion, Paraguay to an undisclosed location in Argentina, presumably to make good on his promise to return to Argentina by 1 Jan 65. ARG FORMIN previously believed promise was meaningless.
2. CIA sources in Madrid and Lisbon know of no overt or covert charter.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
Jack finished reading it, and looked at General Hanrahan.
“And then again, it may not,” Hanrahan said.
“General Perón? Argentina?”
“Like it says in there, Señor Guevara was born there,” Hanrahan said. “How’s married life?”
“So far just fine. sir.”
“Johnny Oliver reported in this morning. He’s getting settled in. If Father and Oliver living together can ever be called settled. In a garden apartment in Fayetteville.”
“Father—excuse me, Major Lunsford—offered to find an apartment for Marjorie and me there, sir.”
“Jack, very quickly: A senior can call a junior by his first name; the reverse is not true unless they are really friends, and among friends. Example: So far as I’m concerned, you can call Father Father and Oliver Johnny when you and I are alone, but don’t let my aide hear you do it. It would deeply offend his sense of proprieties. You’ll learn, Jack. It’s not hard, but it’s important.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, meaning it, realizing that Hanrahan, like Pappy, like Marjorie, like even Geoff, was trying to help him learn how to act like an officer.
“Father told me about the apartment. When are you coming up here?”
“General, you know about the L-23 we’re to pick up in Wichita?”
Hanrahan nodded.
“Well, as soon as it gets modified at SCATSA, sir, I’ll bring it here. There was some talk about teaching me how to fly choppers, but that seems to have died.”
“Not died. Put on hold. When you get up here, Oliver will transition you into choppers. In addition to your other duties.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How close is Geoff Craig to finishing up down there? Do you know?”
“He rode down to Hurlburt with me when I picked up de la Santiago—”
“Today?”
“No, sir. On New Year’s Eve. We spent New Year’s Eve together at Geoff’s.”
“I thought Marjorie would want to display her new husband to the brass at the O Club.”
“First we went there, and then to Geoff’s,” Jack said, and then answered the question. “Geoff’s just about finished with the course, sir.”
“Nobody knows, of course, when this Guevara business is about to start. The possibility exists Felter may be wrong. If I wanted to take over South America, I think I’d start in Central America, or maybe Chile or Bolivia, not in the Congo.”
“I wondered about that, sir.”
“On the other hand, from the moment I met him, a long time ago, in Greece, Felter’s track record has been perfect. In the end, he’s usually turned out to be right, and everybody else wrong. So it behooves us to get this operation in place as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wonder where the hell Zammoro is?” Hanrahan asked, and looked impatiently at his closed office door.
“Sir,” Mr. Zabrewski’s voice boomed over the intercom, as if he had been waiting for the question, “Mr. Zammoro is here.”
Hanrahan smiled at Jack and chuckled. He depressed the SPEAK lever on his intercom.
“Bring them in, please, Ski,” he ordered.
The door opened and a large, swarthy man in fatigues came in first, clutching his green beret in a massive hand, followed by Enrico de la Santiago and Captain Zabrewski. Zabrewski stood by the side of the door; de la Santiago looked as if he didn’t know what to do.
The large man walked to Hanrahan, came to attention, and barked, in the approved military manner, “Sir, Warrant Officer Zammoro reporting as ordered, sir.” He had a slight Spanish accent.
Hanrahan returned the salute. Zammoro remained at attention. Hanrahan gestured for him to relax, and turned to de la Santiago.
“I’m General Hanrahan, Mr. de la Santiago.”
“How do you do, sir?” de la Santiago replied, coming almost to attention.
“Ski, close the door, please, and stick around.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Zam, this is Lieutenant Portet,” Hanrahan said.
“How do you do, sir?” Zammoro asked.
“Lieutenant Portet, Zam, and Mr. de la Santiago are old friends. You two don’t happen to know each other, do you?”
“Yes, sir. We knew one another, in Cuba,” Zammoro said.
“Mr. Zammoro was a major in the Cuban Army, Lieutenant Portet, and you were, as I understand it, Mr. de la Santiago, a captain in the Cuban Air Force?”
“Yes, sir,” de la Santiago said.
“There is a special program, not very well-known, begun during the Hungarian Uprising of 1956, which authorizes certain foreign nationals to be taken into the U.S. Army if they possess certain skills and characteristics that convince a board of U.S. Army officers, one of whom has to be a general officer, they will be of unusual value to the Army,” Hanrahan said.
De la Santiago nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Mr. Zammoro is such an individual,” Hanrahan said. “The board of officers before whom he appeared were convinced that he was a bona fide refugee from Señor Castro’s government, rather than an intelligence officer sent to penetrate our Army. And the board of officers was convinced further that the skills acquired while he was a major in the pre-Castro Cuban Army would be of value to the Army, and specifically to Special Forces.”
“Yes, sir,” de la Santiago said.
“He
was therefore permitted to enlist as a private in the U.S. Army, which required that he take an oath of allegiance to the United States, disavowing any previous allegiances, and that he swore to obey the orders of the officers appointed over him, and to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
“I understand, sir,” de la Santiago said.
“Shortly after Private Zammoro was sworn in as a private soldier—I believe it was the same day, was it not, Zam?”
“Yes, sir,” Zammoro said, smiling.
“It was brought to his attention that he was eligible to apply for direct appointment as a warrant officer, junior grade, U.S. Army, because of his linguistic skills. He is fluent in Spanish as well as English, as I believe you are, Mr. de la Santiago?”
“Yes, sir,” de la Santiago said.
“And he applied, and went before another board of officers, which also included one general officer, which not only decided that he possessed the requirements to be a warrant officer, junior grade, but that if he were an American citizen, he would be eligible for direct appointment as a captain, and that when and if he became an American citizen, which is possible, under another special provision of the law, for a foreign national who has served faithfully for eighteen months as an enlisted man or warrant officer, in the U.S. Army, that he be so commissioned.”
He paused and looked at de la Santiago.
“You’re following all this, Señor de la Santiago?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And questions, Señor de la Santiago?”
“At the risk of sounding flippant, sir, how soon could I expect to go before the board of officers you mentioned?”
“You’re in front of it now, Mr. de la Santiago,” Hanrahan said. “And let the record show that the president of the board has been advised by Mr. Sanford T. Felter, Counselor to the President, Executive Office Building, Washington, D.C., that he is personally familiar with Mr. de la Santiago’s counterintelligence dossier and states that he is not an intelligence officer of Cuba or any other foreign power.”
Captain Zabrewski, who had been leaning against the wall, came to attention.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“For your information, Mr. de la Santiago,” Hanrahan said, “it is the custom of the U.S. Army, when polling a board such as this one, that the junior member thereof be polled first, so his opinions will in no way be influenced by the opinions of his superiors. ”
Hanrahan paused.
“Mr. Zammoro, is there any question in your mind that Mr. de la Santiago, should he be allowed to enlist as a private in the U.S. Army, would be of special value to Special Forces?”
Zammoro popped to attention.
“No, sir.”
“Or, should he be enlisted as a private soldier, that his application for appointment as warrant officer, junior grade, be approved? ”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Zammoro. I believe you are next senior, Lieutenant Portet?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “I agree with Mr. Zammoro, sir.”
“Captain Zabrewski?”
“I agree with Mr. Zammoro and Lieutenant Portet, sir.”
Hanrahan turned and rapped his knuckles on his desk.
“The board approves. Let the record show the decision was unanimous.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Zabrewski said.
“If you’ll take one step forward, Mr. de la Santiago, I will now enlist you into the United States Army,” General Hanrahan said.
[ FOUR ]
SECRET
Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia
FROM: Assistant Director For Administration
FROM: 2 January 1965 1805 GMT
SUBJECT : Guevara, Ernesto (Memorandum #11.)
TO: Mr. Sanford T. Felter
Counselor To The President
Room 637, The Executive Office Building
Washington, D.C.
By Courier
In compliance with Presidential Memorandum to The Director, Subject: “Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara”, dated 14 December 1964, the following information is furnished:
1. (Reliability Scale Three) (From CIA Sources in Bamako, Mali). SUBJECT spent New Year’s Eve in the Cuban Embassy in Bamako. No other information is available.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
SECRET
[ FIVE ]
Ezeiza International Airport
Buenos Aires, Argentina
1130 3 January 1965
When the Aerolineas Argentina Flight 9790, a Boeing 707, landed, completing its nonstop flight from Miami, it taxied close to the terminal and shut down. Two stairways mounted on Chevrolet trucks drove up to the aircraft as the doors were opened. A black Ford Falcon drove up, and a tall, rather sturdy-looking man in a well-cut suit got out. As soon as the forward stairway was in place, he went up it and entered the airplane. Sixty seconds later, he came down the stairway and got back in the Falcon, which immediately drove to the terminal building.
A train of baggage carts rolled up to the aircraft, as did two passenger buses. The passengers began to deplane as the luggage was unloaded.
The first-class passengers were disembarked first, the idea being this would give them first shot at the limited seats available on the buses for the five-hundred-meter trip to the terminal. The fifth and sixth first-class passengers to come down the stairway were a tall white man and a stocky black man, both wearing tweed sport coats, open-necked polo shirts, gray flannel slacks, and loafers.
As they had gotten on the bus first, they had to wait, at the terminal, for the standees to get off first; they were the last two passengers to get off their bus.
As they entered the terminal, the sturdy-looking man who had been aboard the 707 stepped in front of the tall white man and smiled.
“Colonel Lowell?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“A sus órdenes, mi coronel,” the man said. “General Pistarini has asked me to assist you in passing through Customs and Immigration. ”
“How very kind of him,” Lowell said. “This is Major Lunsford.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Major,” the sturdy-looking man said, and gave Lunsford his hand. He did not volunteer his own name.
“If you’ll be kind enough to give me your baggage checks, we can be on our way. Your luggage will follow whenever this inefficient system of ours finally gets it off the aircraft.”
Lowell and Lunsford handed him their baggage checks.
The sturdy man snapped his fingers, and another well-dressed man appeared, neither as sturdy nor as tall. The sturdy man handed him the baggage checks and then, smiling, motioned for Lowell and Lunsford to precede him toward a row of booths, behind which sat officers of the Immigration Service of the Republic of Argentina.
“May I have your passports, please?” the sturdy man asked, and Lowell and Lunsford handed them over. The sturdy man handed them to an Immigration officer. It took him only long enough to find blank pages to stamp before he said, “Welcome to Argentina,” and waved them through.
The sturdy man led them into the reception area of the airport, where people gathered to meet incoming passengers. Among these was a U.S. Air Force major, holding a sign reading, LT. COL. LOWELL.
“Just a second, please,” Lowell said to the sturdy man, and walked up to the major holding the sign.
“My name is Lowell, Major,” he said.
“Major Daley, Colonel. Colonel McGrory sent me to meet you and Major Lunsford.”
“Colonel who?”
“Colonel McGrory, sir. The defense attaché.”
“What happened to Colonel Harris?”
“Colonel Harris is the army attaché, Colonel. This is an Air Force post. Colonel McGrory is the defense attaché.”
“Please tell Colonel McGrory I very much appreciate his courtesy in sending you out here, Major, and tell him that I hope he can find time to see me while
I’m in Argentina.”
“Sir, Colonel McGrory asked me to take you to your quarters, and then bring you to report to him.”
“To report to him, you said, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please tell Colonel McGrory I hope he can find time for me to pay him a courtesy call while I’m in Argentina,” Lowell said. “And I’m sorry you wasted your time coming out here, Major.”
He walked back to the sturdy man, who led him outside the terminal where three cars, two Ford Falcons and a black Buick, were parked in an area clearly marked FOR TAXIS ONLY.
The sturdy man opened the rear door of the Buick and smilingly motioned for Lowell and Lunsford to get in, and when they had, got in the front seat. The Buick pulled away from the terminal. One of the Falcons followed.
Neither car even slowed when they came to the tollbooths for the airfield parking lot.
The sturdy man in the front turned.
“General Pistarini regrets, mi coronel,” he said, “that he was unable to meet you himself. The press of duty . . .”
“I understand, of course,” Lowell said. “We have reservations at a hotel called the Plaza.”
For the first time, the sturdy man frowned.
“The general has arranged accommodation for you and the major, mi coronel, in the Círculo Militar. Will that be a problem?”
“The general’s hospitality is overwhelming,” Lowell said.
“And our baggage will be going there, right?” Father Lunsford asked.
“It should be there within the hour,” the sturdy man said. “And there is no problem about your staying at the Círculo Militar?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Lowell said.
It was a forty-five-minute trip through traffic to downtown Buenos Aires.
“This is Plaza San Martin, mi coronel,” the sturdy man said. “We will pass the Foreign Ministry, on our left, and then come to the Círculo Militar. The building directly ahead is the Círculo Militar.”
He pointed to an enormous, French-style building, with a fifty-foot -tall, heavily gilded cast-iron double gate. Two soldiers, in field gear, armed with automatic rifles, stood guard.
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