"I thought perhaps an intelligence officer."

"A Special Forces officer, General."

"And what, exactly, does a Special Forces officer do in the U.S. Army?"

"They do all sorts of things, Sir. Major Lunsford, until recently, was in the Congo."

"I was under the impression the U.S. government flatly denied the presence of U.S. forces in the Congo."

"I believe that to be the case, sir."

"But you say your major was there?"

"He infiltrated the Simba army that captured Stanleyville, sir. He speaks Swahili, and was wearing a uniform consisting of a Belgian officer's tunic, topped off with a leopard skin."

Pistarini thought a moment before going on.

"You're just about fluent in German, aren't you?"

"It's not as good as yours, General."

"You spent some time in Germany, I gather?"

"Yes, sir."

"And that's where you met our mutual friend Lieutenant General von Greiffenberg?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I ask how that came to be?"

"My wife introduced us, sir."

"Your wife?" Pistarini asked, surprised.

"Generalleutnant Graf von Greiffenberg is my father-in-law, General."

"How interesting," Pistarini said. "I wonder why he didn't mention that in his letter. You know about the letter?"

"He was good enough to show it to me, and to Mr. Felter, before he sent it, General."

"You should have brought your wife to Argentina, Colonel. It would have given my wife great pleasure to show General von Greiffenberg's daughter our country."

"My wife passed on, General."

"I'm so sorry," Pistarini said.

"An auto accident, in Germany, while I was in Korea," Lowell said.

"How very tragic," Pistarini said. "You served with great distinction in Korea, didn't you? Earning your country's second-highest award for valor."

Lowell didn't reply.

"And before that, you were awarded the Greek order of Saint George and Saint Andrew."

Lowell said nothing.

"What were you doing in Greece?"

"We were trying to-and succeeded-in keeping the Communists from taking over the country."

"And you seem to know that Colonel Peron is at this very moment trying to reenter Argentina via Brazil," Pistarini said. "Let a simple soldier, Colonel, try to put this all together. You have apparently spent a good part of your career fighting the communist menace."

"That's a fair statement, sir."

"Would it be also be fair of me to conclude that you have a professional as well as a personal relationship with General von Greiffenberg?"

"Yes, sir, it would."

"And a professional relationship with the mysterious Mr. Felter, as well?"

"Professional and personal, General. He is my closest friend."

"To a simple soldier, this suggests that you are an intelligence officer, probably attached to the Central Intelligence Agency."

"No, sir. I have no connection of any sort with the Central Intelligence Agency."

"But you realize, of course, that I would expect you to deny such a relationship?"

"Would the general accept my word of honor as an officer about that?"

Pistarini leaned forward in his chair and looked into Lowell's eyes. Then he slumped back in his chair.

"Yes, I will," he said. "You come here bringing with you an officer, a Special Forces officer, who you tell me has been in the Congo, despite the flat statement by your government that the U.S. Army was not involved in the Congo."

"Yes, sir."

"In your judgment, Colonel, was the situation in the Congo Communist-inspired?"

"My best information, sir, is that the Simba movement was spontaneous. As soon as Moscow heard of it, they attempted to get arms and ammunition, and other support, to the Simbas. The parachute envelopment of Stanleyville by the Belgians-"

"Dropped from U.S. Air Force aircraft," Pistarini interrupted.

"-came just in time to make that impossible for them," Lowell concluded.

"And now this simple soldier wants to know what, if anything, this has to do with Argentina?"

"We believe-and I have been authorized by General von Greiffenberg to tell you he shares this belief-that the Communists have by no means abandoned their intentions for Africa."

"I'm sure that's true, but what is it you want from Argentina?"

"We also believe that an Argentine national will shortly become very actively involved in fresh efforts to have the Congo fall under communist control."

"That's difficult for me to accept," Pistarini said. "What Argentine national? You're not talking about Che Guevara?"

"The most recent information I have on Dr. Guevara is that he spent New Year's Eve in the Cuban Embassy in Bamako, Mali," Lowell said. "Prior to that, he was in Algiers. We have reason to believe that he will next go to Brazzaville, in the former French Congo."

"You're sure of this information?" He was visibly surprised.

"We believe it to be absolutely reliable, General."

Pistarini slumped back in his chair and sat there for a full ninety seconds.

"Even if it comes slowly to a simple soldier, there is usually a reason for everything," he said finally. "Colonel, you may tell both the mysterious Mister Felter and General von Greiffenberg that should Dr. Guevara suffer an unfortunate accident, it would of course be fully investigated by our SIDE-the assistant director of which met you at the airport-who would conclude they found nothing, absolutely nothing, absolutely nothing, suspicious in the events surrounding his death." suspicious in the events surrounding his death."

He looked at Lowell and smiled.

"And between you and me, between Pascual and Craig, the sooner that despicable anti-Christ communist sonofabitch met a painful death, the better I would like it."

"General," Lowell said. "Believe me, I understand your feelings. But the fact is I was sent here to solicit your cooperation in keeping the despicable anti-Christ communist sonofabitch alive."

Pistarini looked at him intently. He shrugged, then picked up the champagne bottle and refilled their glasses.

"You are a man of many surprises, Colonel," he said. "When you say you were sent here, you mean by Mr. Felter?"

"Yes, sir. But General von Greiffenberg is aware of my mission, and has authorized me to tell you that he and Mr. Felter are in complete agreement about this."

"Did they share their reasoning with you? And if so, are you able to share it with me?"

"They believe, sir-and I have come to believe they're right- that Guevara alive will pose fewer problems than Guevara dead, especially if the Communists can allege-not necessarily prove, simply credibly allege-that he was murdered by fascist forces who wanted to keep him from liberating the poor and oppressed."

"I'm going to have a hard time selling that argument to Rangio, " Pistarini said.

"Sir?"

"I was thinking out loud," Pistarini said. "Coronel Francisco Bolla is the Chief of SIDE, which is directly under President Illia. Bolla works for Illia, in other words. Teniente Coronel Guillermo Rangio, who met you at the airfield, is the deputy director. He works for me. My orders to him are that Dr. Guevara is not to return to Argentina alive, despite what orders he may have from anyone else to the contrary."

Lowell said nothing.

Pistarini drained his champagne glass.

"What I really would like to have right now is a large scotch," he said. "But as you know, I have another problem on my hands at the moment. . . ." He paused. "Did you mean what you said to Fosterwood? The odds are five to one the Brazilians will not allow him to come here?"

"I was gambling from a position of ignorance, General," Lowell said. "If I were the Brazilians, that's what I'd do."

"Do they teach 'never underestimate your enemy' in the U.S. Army, Colonel?"

"Yes, sir."

"If you and Major Lunsford are free for dinner tonight, Colonel, I would be pleased if you would dine with Coronel Rangio and me."

"We would be honored, sir," Lowell said. "Where and when?"

"Probably about ten," Pistarini said. "I think I should have some word as to how things are going in Brazil by then. Is ten too late for you?"

"No, sir. Dress?"

"This will be very informal," Pistarini said.

"Yes, sir."

"And as to where, the driver will know. If you wouldn't mind, if you would either be in the Circulo Militar from nine-thirty-or in the car, there's a radio in the car-it would make things easier for me."

"Yes, sir."

Pistarini got quickly to his feet.

"And if you will excuse me before I give in to the temptation to have the rest of the champagne?"

Lowell jumped to his feet.

"Thank you very much, General," he said.

"I will send another of my aides up here with the Major and Colonel Stumpff, and you can finish it," Pistarini said, and walked off the balcony.

Both of the soldiers with the automatic rifles followed him.

[ TWO ].

Circulo Militar Plaza San Martin Buenos Aires, Argentina 2105 3 January 1965 "Would you please see who that is, Major Lunsford?" Lieutenant Colonel Craig Lowell asked. "Your beloved colonel's ass is really dragging."

Lunsford pushed himself out of his armchair and walked to the door of the suite. An elderly steward in a white jacket extended a silver tray to him. It held a calling card. Lunsford picked it up.

"Beloved Colonel, sir," he called. "Mr. J. F. Stephens is downstairs and seeks audience with you."

"Who?"

"According to his card, Mr. Stephens is the administrative officer for housing and medical services of the United States Information Service."

"Jesus!" Lowell said.

"He probably wants to ask you about hog belly futures."

"Let him come up," Lowell said.