"We're about to find out," Jack said. "I suspect those lights dead ahead are Runway 31."

"Gear down, flaps twenty," de la Santiago ordered.

Jack reached for the controls.

"Mayo, Ocho-siete-siete," de la Santiago said to his microphone. de la Santiago said to his microphone. "Tengo pista de aterrizaje treinta y uno a la vista." "Tengo pista de aterrizaje treinta y uno a la vista."

"Gear down and locked," Jack reported. "You have twenty degrees of flaps. Johnny, go back and strap yourself in."

"Ocho-siete-siete, tiene permiso para aterrizar. Tome la primera calle de aproximacion conveniente a su izquierda. Dirijase a la base de operaciones, debajo de la torre de Control, donde se estacionara."

"I really have to take a piss," Jack announced.

"Mayo, Ocho-siete-siete, en tierra a cinco minutos de la hora. Somos IFR Internacional de Puerto Allegre. Puede cerrar nuestro plan de vuelo?"

"Ocho-siete-siete, Su plan de vuelo ha sido cerrado. Bienvenidos a Campo de Mayo."

"The tower says welcome to Campo de Mayo," de la Santiago reported.

"My mother was right," Oliver said. "I should have paid more attention to Spanish in high school."

Uniformed ground crewmen appeared with wands and directed de la Santiago in parking the airplane.

"Shut the sonofabitch down," Jack said. "I really need to take a leak."

"Here comes somebody. Here come a lot of people," de la Santiago said.

A large man in a blue sport coat and an open-collared yellow polo shirt walked across the tarmac toward the L-23. Four steps behind him came four men, two in what looked like Air Force uniforms, and two in what suggested they were Customs or Immigration officers.

"I believe you're senior, Captain," Jack said. "You deal with the natives."

Oliver got out of the airplane first and walked to the older of the Air Force officers and saluted.

"Good evening, sir," he said. "I am Captain John S. Oliver, U.S. Army."

The salutes were returned.

"Welcome to Campo de Mayo," one of the officers said in good English.

Warrant Officer Junior Grade Julio Zammoro was next off the plane.

He walked toward Oliver and the uniformed officers, obviously to provide his services as an interpreter. He raised his hand in a salute.

"Hola, Julio," the man in the sport coat said softly.

Zammoro turned to see who had spoken. Then he stopped walking, his hand still at his forehead.

"Willi," he said softly.

WOJG Enrico de la Santiago was now out of the plane, and Jack Portet and Otmanio followed a moment later.

Zammoro and the man in the sport coat walked to each other and embraced.

"Madre de Dios, me alegro de verlo, mi amigo," the man in the sport coat said. the man in the sport coat said. "He oido distintos comentarios sobre usted. Uno decia que usted estaba muerto, el otro que usted estaba en la Isla de Pinos." "He oido distintos comentarios sobre usted. Uno decia que usted estaba muerto, el otro que usted estaba en la Isla de Pinos."

"Ricky," Jack asked de la Santiago softly, "what's going on?"

"They must be friends," de la Santiago replied. "The Argentine said he was glad to see him, that he had heard both that Zammoro was dead and on the Isle of Pines." He paused and then added, "The Isle of Pines is Castro's worst prison."

"Estoy vivo y punto."

"Y Dolores?"

"Esta en la Isla de Pinos."

"Mi Dios! Y los ninos?"

"Lo ultimo que oi de ellos, es que estan con Maria, la hermana de Dolores."

De la Santiago, his voice tight with emotion, translated the essence of the exchange: "He asked Zammoro about his wife; Zammoro said she's on the Isle of Pines and that their children are with his wife's sister."

The man in the sport coat gave Zammorro a final kiss on the cheek and let him go.

"You're the only captain," he said to Oliver in perfect English, "so you must be Captain Oliver. I am Lieutenant Colonel Rangio, and it is my privilege to welcome you to Argentina."

Oliver saluted.

"How do you do, sir?"

Rangio turned to the uniformed officers.

"Gracias. No se requeriran sus servicios. Estos senores estan conmigo. Mande a alguien al Casino en media hora, para que se encargue de todo lo relacionado a los pasaportes."

"We're with him," de la Santiago translated softly. "We're going to the officers' club. He told the immigration officers to come there in half an hour."

The uniformed officers all saluted and marched away.

"I will take pleasure in meeting you all individually," Rangio said, "but I suggest we do that at the casino. I'm sure you all would like to visit a men's room." He paused. "In fact, there is a men's room in the hangar, if that is a pressing problem."

"Sir," Jack said. "It is a pressing problem for me."

"Then, if you will follow me, Lieutenant?" Rangio said.

"Sir," Oliver said. "Our luggage?"

"I'll have someone bring it to the casino," Lieutenant Colonel Rangio said.

"And sir," Oliver said, nodding toward Otmanio, "Sergeant First Class Otmanio is . . . not an officer."

"In a flight suit, who will notice?" Rangio replied with a shrug.

Twenty minutes later, they were all sitting around a very large, very low, round, glass-topped table in a room off the main dining room of the Campo de Mayo Casino, the officers' club.

White-jacketed waiters had laid an array of bottles-in case anyone preferred something other than champagne-and trays of cold cuts on the table, and then left, closing the door after them.

"When your manifest came into my hands," Rangio said, "and I saw Julio's name, I wasn't sure, of course, that he was my Julio, but I thought it possible, even likely. So I asked them to chill a little wine, in case there was occasion to celebrate."

Oliver thought: If you saw the manifest, which was classified Confidential, Colonel, that means that you have access to Confidential messages addressed to our military attache. Did you get the manifest from the attache, or do you have someone in the embassy? If you saw the manifest, which was classified Confidential, Colonel, that means that you have access to Confidential messages addressed to our military attache. Did you get the manifest from the attache, or do you have someone in the embassy?

Oliver smiled.

"Colonel, if Zam had said something about knowing you, I'm sure Colonel Felter would have advised you."

"Is that what they call you, Julio? 'Zam'?"

"Usually, Willi, they call me something more profane," Zammoro said.

"I thought perhaps that our friendship was something you didn't want known," Rangio said. "And I thought that it might prove awkward at Ezeiza if it suddenly came out. I knew that my friend Colonel Harris planned to meet you at Ezeiza, so I had you diverted here."

"I understand," Oliver said. "But what do we do about Colonel Harris? Our orders are to report to him."

"At this very moment, Colonel Harris and his very competent Sergeant Major Wilson, probably cursing the unpredictable Argentines, are en route from Ezeiza here to pick you up," Rangio said.

"Thank you, sir."

"And at this very moment, my good wife is sitting by the telephone to learn whether your Julio is our Julio," Rangio said. "So I have a favor to ask of you. If I swear to deliver him to the embassy transient quarters at eight tomorrow morning, may I take him home with me?"

"Absolutely," Oliver said. "And it doesn't have be 0800, either, Colonel. I plan to sleep most of tomorrow . . ."

Rangio took a card from his wallet and wrote a number on it.

"Call this, night or day, and I will have Julio where you want him within the hour."

"Thank you," Oliver said.

"And now, if you will excuse us? Colonel Harris knows where you all are."

Zammoro stood up and saluted.

"Thank you, Captain," he said.

"Don't be silly, Zam. Have a good time. See you tomorrow, or the day after."

Oliver waited until Rangio and Zammoro had left, then rapped his knuckles on the glass tabletop to get everyone's attention.

"Our orders, you will recall, are to tell Colonel Harris only what he has to know. And I don't think he has to know that Zammoro and Rangio are old friends. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads in understanding, and SFC Otmanio said, "Yes, sir."

"I wonder why Zammoro didn't say anything . . . back in the States?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," de la Santiago said. "But it could be because he was afraid they wouldn't send him down here knowing he and the SIDE guy are old pals."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed thoughtfully. "Anyway, Zam asked permission to spend the night with an old friend, name unknown, and I gave it to him. Okay?"

[ FOUR ].

Apartment 10-B Malabia 2350 Palermo (U.S. Embassy Transient Quarters) Buenos Aires, Argentina 1130 3 February 1965 "Senor," the maid who came with the apartment said to Captain John S. Oliver, who was sharing a cup of coffee with Lieutenant Jacques Portet on a narrow balcony, "there is a gentleman from the U.S. Embassy to see you."

"Ask him to come out here, please," Oliver said.

Thirty seconds later, Mr. J. F. Stephens walked onto the balcony.

"Captain Oliver?" he asked, and when Oliver nodded, went on: "I'm J. F. Stephens, the embassy's administrative officer for housing and medical services."

"Sure you are," Oliver said, unable to restrain a smile. Colonel Lowell had told him to expect that the CIA station chief would make himself known, but not that he would be a CIA version of Felter, an absolutely unimpressive man in a mussed suit, who looked like anything but an intelligence agent.

"I really am," Stephens said. "Maybe you expected an American Michael Caine?"

Oliver and Jack Portet chuckled.

"How about a cup of coffee before you tell us what we can do for you?" Oliver said, offering his hand. "This is Lieutenant Jack Portet."

"I'd love some coffee," Stephens said, and gave his hand to Jack. "Welcome to Buenos Aires."

"Thank you," Jack said. He ordered coffee for all of them from the maid with sign language.

"No Spanish, huh?"

"Not a word."

"You really only need three," Stephens said. "Bano, cerveza, "Bano, cerveza, and and bife de chorizo. bife de chorizo. Bathroom, beer, and New York strip steak." Bathroom, beer, and New York strip steak."

Johnny and Jack chuckled dutifully.

"I really am, the admin officer for housing, I mean," Stephens said. "I came by to discuss housing with Warrant Officers de la Santiago and Zammoro and Sergeant Otmanio. You two can stay here, of course, until you go back to the States. Which will be when?"

"I wonder who wants to know," Oliver said. "The admin officer for housing or curious people in Langley?"

"Would you settle for both?"

The maid held out a tray with cups of coffee on it.

He said something in Spanish to her, and she pulled the tray back and went into the apartment.