By the end of the sentence, it was obvious that Otmanio had done more than his fair share of depleting the wine supply.

"How is that, Sergeant?" Rangio said, not quite able to restrain a smile.

"I grew up in Spanish Harlem in New York, Colonel," Otmanio said. "Compared to what I had, Guevara has had it really knocked all of his life. He lives in a nice house, he goes to church, he doesn't do dope, he goes to medical school, and he wants to turn this country communist? From what I've seen, Colonel, all you Argentines want to do is eat, drink wine, and make babies. He knows what happens when the Communists take over. The first thing they do-I saw this all the time in Vietnam, and so did you, Captain Oliver-is blow away the nice people-like de la Santiago's grandfather, like Senor Frotzi, like his own father and mother, for Christ's sake! Where's he coming from? What the fuck fuck is wrong with the sonofabitch?" is wrong with the sonofabitch?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. Otmanio saw this.

"Well, shit, Captain," Otmanio said. "He asked me."

Rangio chuckled.

'''Eat, drink wine, and make babies'?" Rangio quoted. "An astute observation of the Argentine people, Sergeant." He paused, then went on seriously. "I have asked myself the same question-why? why?-many times, and never found an answer. If I had an answer, maybe it would be easier for people like you and me to stop him. And others like him. But then, Sergeant, what would people like you and me do for a living?"

Rangio stood up and looked at his watch.

"It's time we were going," he said.

[ TWO ].

Ezeiza International Airport Buenos Aires, Argentina 2310 6 February 1965 Army Regulations provide that when junior officers such as Captain John S. Oliver and Lieutenant Jacques Portet are traveling on official business, they will be provided with the most economical passage. This translated to mean that Oliver was in Aerolineas Argentina's flight 7201's seat 39B, separated from the window on his left by one fellow passenger, and from the aisle on his right by another fellow passenger. Lieutenant Porter was similarly seated in 39E, on the other side of the aisle, one seat away from the window and one seat from the aisle.

It was going to be a long-nine-hours-plus in the air-and somewhat crowded flight to Miami.

A white-jacketed steward came down the aisle and stopped at row 39.

"Captain Oliver?"

"That's me."

"Will you come with me, please, Captain?"

"What's up?" Oliver asked.

The steward turned across the aisle and asked Lieutenant Portet if he would come with him.

Captain Oliver and Lieutenant Portet met in the aisle.

"What the hell is going on?" Portet asked. Oliver shrugged.

They followed the steward up the aisle to the door, where he turned and bowed them into the first-class compartment.

A man they had never seen before smiled.

"I am sure if Colonel Rangio were here, he would be mortified that there was some sort of mix-up," he said. "Your seat change should have been made before you boarded."

He pointed to two large, leather-upholstered first-class seats. "That's for us?" Oliver asked.

"Colonel Rangio hopes that you have a pleasant flight, and will see you soon again," the man said. "And he thought that since you liked our Argentine wine, you might like to try some of our champagne."

He thrust a large paper bag at Oliver, who looked in and saw four foil-necked champagne bottles.

"He also hopes that you will be good enough to take a bottle to Colonel Lowell and Major Lunsford," the man said.

"Certainly," Oliver said.

"And that you will be good enough to deliver this to Colonel Lowell," the man said.

He handed Oliver a white envelope. It was not sealed and was not addressed.

"Certainly," Oliver said. "I'd be happy to."

He put the envelope in his suit jacket pocket.

The man put out his hand.

"I, too, hope you have a very pleasant flight," he said, shook their hands, and walked to the aircraft door.

Johnny bowed Jack into the window seat, then sat down himself.

A stewardess appeared with two glasses of champagne.

"Champagne? Or would you rather wait until we're in the air?"

"Seize the opportunity, I always say," Jack said, taking a glass. "Thank you very much."

There was a whining noise.

"He's starting Inboard Two," Jack said. "Drink up."

"I wonder what's in the envelope?" Oliver said when they were still climbing to cruise altitude and the champagne had been replaced with a glass of Johnny Walker Black.

"It wasn't sealed," Jack said.

"I noticed," Oliver said. "On one hand, it would be reading somebody else's mail."

"And on the other," Jack said, "I'm sure you remember what Mr. Stephens said about lying, stealing, cheating, and worse, being part of this territory."

"You are a corrupting influence, Lieutenant," Oliver said, and took the envelope from his jacket pocket.

It contained two typewritten pages.

This is list of some of the personnel who will participate in the Cuban operation in the former Belgian Congo. I understand the American CIA rates the reliability of information of this nature on a scale of one to five, five being the most reliable. By that criteria, this information would be FIVE.With the exception of Guevara, who is believed to be in or en route to Paris, all of the officers and most of the enlisted men are in one of the training camps secretly established in Pina del Rio Province, and identified as Pita 1, Pita 2, and Pita 3. Pita 2 and Pita 3 are still under construction.In the parentheses following the officer's rank is the Swahili name these individuals will use in the Operation. One might logically deduce they have someone fluent in Swahili available to them.1. Guevara, Ernesto de la Serna Major (Tatu)No comment considered necessary2. Dreke, Victor Major (Moja)Although he is not a professional officer, Dreke is a highly skilled guerrilla, who served with Castro and Guevara in the Sierra Maestra. He is a dedicated Communist, and a close and trusted friend of both Guevara and Castro.Until this assignment, he has been Deputy Commandant of the Fight Against Bands of Counterrevolutionaries (Acronym from the Spanish, LCB). He is not adverse to executing persons believed to be counterrevolutionaries on the spot when and where detected.Dreke is a very dangerous man, whose mission will probably be similar to that of a political commissar in the Soviet Army-that is, in addition to his military duties, he will do whatever is necessary to maintain communist zeal.3. Tamayo, Jose Maria Martinez Ministry of the Interior officer (Mbili)Martinez is a former military intelligence officer, whose function at the Interior Ministry has included supervision of the Secret Police.4. Gilbert, Raphael Zerquera, M.D. Not Known (Kumi)This would seem to indicate Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, M.D., plans to be too busy with other activities to serve as the operation's physician.5. Terry, Santiago Captain (Ali)Terry is not a professional soldier. He was "commissioned" as a reward for his service while with Castro in the Sierra Maestra mountains. He and Guevara and Dreke are the only officers who have any experience in waging guerrilla warfare.6. Pichardo, Norberto Pio Lieutenant (Inne) Pichardo is a recently commissioned officer who served in Infantry.The following enlisted men are members of the cadre. Some of them served in the Sierra Maestra, but most are simply soldiers recruited from the Cuban Army because of their black skin. Few, if any, are believed to have guerrilla experience.

Sergeant Eduardo Torres Ferrer (Coqui), Sergeant Julian Morejon Gilbert (Tiza) Sergeant Victor Manuel Ballester (Telathini) Sergeant Ramon Munoz Caballero (Maganga) Corporal Pablo Osvaldo Ortiz (Sita) Corporal Pedro Ortiz (Saba) Private Aldo Garcia Gonzalez (Tano) Private Martin Chivas (Ishirini) Private Jose Escudero (Arobaini) Private Constantino Perez Mendez (Hansini) Private Angel Fernandez Angulo (Sitaini) Private Lucio Sanchez Rivero (Rabanini) Private Noelio Reve Robles (Kigolo) Oliver waited until Jack had read the second page.

"You think this is from that little bird we keep hearing about?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Jack said. "And this little bird apparently still has some friends in Cuba."

[ THREE ].

International Arrival Terminal Miami International Airport Miami, Florida 0645 7 February 1965 A zealous officer of the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, who Captain John S. Oliver had within three minutes of meeting decided was a chickenshit sonofabitch with the brains of a gnat, had delayed the return of Oliver and Lieutenant Jacques Portet into the land of their birth.

The INS officer, on inspecting their passports, had noticed they did not have an EXIT stamp indicating the time and date they had left the United States for a foreign nation. And here they were, returning from a foreign nation. Something, he concluded, was clearly amiss.

Captain Oliver had explained that he and Lieutenant Portet had left the United States on competent orders issued by the United States Department of the Army, which ordered them to proceed to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and such other places as duty required, and to travel by government and/or commercial air, rail, sea, and motor transport.

He produced copies of these orders and explained that he and Lieutenant Portet had departed the United States aboard a U.S. Army aircraft, in which case having one's passport stamped was not required. He further explained that they had left the U.S. Army aircraft in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and were now returning, via commercial aircraft.

The INS officer's position was that their passports did not bear an EXIT stamp, and here they were trying to get them stamped RETURNED. Something was clearly amiss, and he could not admit them under such circumstances without consulting superior authority.

That superior authority functionary was normally on duty until 6 A.M., but he had left a little early (it was then 5:25 A.M.) and it would be necessary to wait for his replacement to come on duty at 6 A.M. The INS officer was deaf to Captain Oliver's plea that he and Lieutenant Portet were on an Eastern Airlines flight to Atlanta departing Miami at 0715, and if there was a delay, they were not going to be able to make it.

The INS superior authority functionary scheduled to go on duty at 6 A.M. had a little car trouble and did not make an appearance until 6:25 A.M.

When apprised of the situation, the INS superior authority functionary examined Captain Oliver's and Lieutenant Portet's orders and passports and quickly reached a decision.

"No problem," he said. "Welcome home."

Captain Oliver was perhaps a little distracted when he led Lieutenant Portet out of the Customs area into the terminal. He was intent on finding one of the "You Are Here" maps he knew were mounted on various pillars of the terminal concourse, so that he could determine where the hell he was, where the hell Eastern Airlines was, and maybe be lucky enough to get there in time to board the plane.

Finger on the "You Are Here" map, he paid absolutely no attention to the redheaded female who stepped up behind him-he did notice her perfume-until she spoke.

"Hey, there, soldier, looking for a good time?"

He turned to examine the redheaded female.

"I will be a sonofabitch," he said.

"I know," Liza Wood Oliver said, "but I married you anyway."

When, perhaps ninety seconds later, he removed his face from Liza's neck, he saw that Lieutenant Portet was similarly engaged with Mrs. Portet.

"Where's Allan?" he asked.

"With Jack's stepmother," Liza said. "I didn't want to wake him up this early."

"What's going on?"

"You're on ten days' leave, you and Jack," Liza said. "Colonel Lowell arranged it. And called Marjorie and suggested we might like to meet you-"

"I've got to call Lowell," Oliver blurted. "I've got something for him."

"And it won't wait?" Liza asked.

"Sometime today," Jack said.

"-and we're in Lowell's house in Ocean Reef," Liza said. "And driving that wonderful old Packard of his."

"What's that all about?"

"Halfway down here in Jack's Jaguar, Marjorie and I realized that we now had husbands to ferry around, and we really should have taken my car."

He laughed.

"I guess we're not used to being married women," Liza said. "I wonder why?"

[ FOUR ].

12 Surf Point Drive The Ocean Reef Club Key Largo, Florida 1005 7 February 1965 Oliver waited until Liza had closed the bathroom door and he heard the sound of the shower before reaching for the bedside telephone. Then he hung it up, went to his trousers and found his wallet and the number, and picked up the telephone again and dialed it.

"Strike Aviation Section, Sergeant McMullen, sir."

"Colonel Lowell, please, Captain Oliver calling."

"The Colonel's tied up, sir. Maybe I can be of help?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Sergeant. Please tell him I'm on the line and holding."

"Yes, sir."

Lowell came on the line a moment later, but before he spoke to Oliver, Oliver could hear him speak to Sergeant McMullen: "I thought I told you, Mac, Oliver's on the anytime, anywhere list."

And then he spoke to Oliver.

"Sorry about that. I thought I told Mac you were on the good guy list, but the shake of his head and hurt look on his Irish face tells me I didn't. What's up, Johnny?"

Before Oliver could reply, Lowell added. "Christ, the brides did meet the plane, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir, driving your Packard. And we are now in your house.

For which I am, we are, very grateful."

"I'm glad somebody's using both. How did things go down there?"

"I have a present for you from Colonel Rangio. Actually two presents. A bottle of Argentine champagne for you and Major Lunsford. And a letter, sort of, for you."