Chapter 11
David Foster pulled the Citroen behind a tall hedge on the road above the house and got out for a fast look. It had taken him two days to locate the house where the Hawk held the Martin girl, and his discovery had been a stroke of pure luck. He had been driving back from the luxurious spa called Yao Yao when a small Fiat had pulled out of a driveway and onto the road. In that fraction of a second that the driver was profiled, David recognized Ignacio Sandoval. He followed the Fiat into town and observed every move the Hawk made. He saw the Hawk study the plaza and step off the distance from a monument to the comer of a building. When Ignacio stepped back to study an upper window at the comer of the building, David knew that this would be the Hawk's point of fire in the assassination attempt. Wondering if his incredible luck would hold, David followed the Hawk when he returned to the chalet near the lake. Fortunately for David, the Hawk had been too preoccupied to notice that he was being followed.
That had been two hours before. Since, David had made his regular call to Mora and received orders to meet Mora at Tuyo headquarters the following morning. Sergio was under the impression that David was hiding out somewhere in the Buenos Aires area, and David was careful not to discourage that belief. He already had reservations on the afternoon flight back to Buenos Aires.
Standing out of sight at the edge of the tall hedge, David looked down at the chalet. It was large and looked well built. Most of the windows were tightly shuttered. The drapes were pulled on those windows that hadn't been shuttered, giving the impression that the house wasn't occupied. He noted that Sandoval had parked the Fiat behind a house fifty yards from the chalet. He doesn't want anybody to know he's there, David noted to himself. David memorized the terrain, the driveway leading to the chalet, even the footpath leading from the road to the lake.
A brisk gust of wind made him shiver and he looked up to see dark, threatening clouds hanging over the Andes. Snow will complicate matters, he thought to himself as he made his way back to the rented Citroen. He started the car and listened to the four-cylinder engine clatter, making a mental note to reserve a bigger, faster car when he returned to Bariloche.
He arrived at the airport with just enough time to check the rented car in and board the Aerolineas jet for Buenos Aires. By the time the pilot touched down at Aeroparque airport, David had devised a flexible plan of action. The stakes were too high to play this as a lone wolf. He knew the Hawk's reputation and if David made one mistake, Peron was dead. He had to have a back-up group, someone who could follow his orders explicitly and who could act independently if David somehow failed. He went to a booth at the airport and called the American embassy.
"Carl Raitman speaking," the voice said after several operators handled David's call.
"David Foster here, Raitman. I want you to call Sanders in Washington and tell him David Foster has contacted you. Ask him how you are to handle me. I'll call you back in an hour and we'll arrange to meet for dinner, okay?"
"Am I speaking to the famous Wolf?" Raitman asked.
"The name is David Foster. Clear me with Sanders in Washington and then we can talk. It's urgent or I wouldn't be calling you. I'll call you in an hour. Goodbye." David hung up, shaking his head about how his reputation as the Wolf had grown. He took a taxi to the City Hotel and checked in, knowing that he would be far less noticeable among a group of tourists than in a strictly Argentine hotel.
An hour and fifteen minutes later David was seated across from Carl Raitman in a small, quiet restaurant in La Boca, the Italian district.
"I must say that you come with top credentials," Raitman remarked after the waiter had left two glasses and a bottle of Cinzano on the table. "Sanders emphasized that you are not with our government, but ordered me to cooperate fully. He added that there have been times when we've been after your hide, but not at this particular moment. Maybe sometimes you'll explain all of this for me."
"Sometimes, perhaps," David smiled. "How is your man Peter Martin holding up?"
"Why ... I don't understand," Raitman h-edged.
"Look, Sanders told you to cooperate," David snapped, "now let's get with it and stop playing games. I know Martin's wife has been kidnapped. I know who snatched her and where she is. I'm not sure why she was kidnapped, other than the fact that they think Martin is me. How is he holding up?"
Raitman's training enabled him to conceal his surprise. They hadn't let the story of the kidnapping out yet and how this man knew as much as he did was a mystery to the head of American Intelligence in Argentina.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Raitman answered truthfully. "He's pretty frantic. They were married the day before she disappeared, and that makes it tougher on him."
"Is he effective as an agent at this point?" David asked.
"That depends," Raitman replied. "Fill me in and I'll try to give you an objective opinion."
"I can't use him, anyway," David remarked, "but I want you to evaluate him carefully because it's going to get rough in the next few days. His wife is being held by a group who are planning to assassinate Juan Peron, and it's my job to stop them."
Raitman whistled as David carefully out-lined what he had discovered. David told him about Tuyo, the Hawk, the plan to kill Peron in Bariloche, and how and when he thought it was scheduled to be done. He went on to explain his penetration of the Tuyo organization and how he was worried that they might break his cover.
"What I need from you," David continued, "is a guarantee of non-interference and a team of three or four absolutely trustworthy men. I'd prefer natives, men who won't stand out in a crowd, if you know what I mean. They have to speak English, though, because my Spanish is almost non-existent."
"How about one man who is completely bilingual and two who speak only Spanish?" Raitman asked. "They're my best team. Absolutely reliable."
"Then they're the ones I need," David said with a smile. "The team is strictly back-up, to finish the job if I flub it. I'll keep them from the spotlight if I can."
"That would be appreciated," Raitman replied, sipping his Cinzano. "Are you going to fade out of Tuyo?"
"If I do, they'll be after me with everything they have," David said. "And they'd probably change their schedule. So far, I'm safe. If the going gets tough, I'll disappear."
"What about Mrs. Martin?"
"I wish I could answer that," David said honestly. "Has there been a ransom demand?"
"Negative," Raitman sighed, refilling his glass with the deep-red-colored Cinzano. "And that's what worries us."
"If they aren't holding her for money," David remarked with a frown creasing his forehead, "then they intend to use her."
"How?"
"Either to flush the Wolf," David replied thoughtfully, "or as a part of the assassination attempt. My guess would be the former. As far as I know, Tuyo still believes Peter Martin is the Wolf."
"Which brings us to a critical question," Rait man said, leaning across the table and speaking in a low voice. "How do I handle Peter Martin?"
David thought for a moment before replying, then out-lined a plan of action with several alternatives. Raitman listened attentatively, nodding his head several times and offering a suggestion here and there.
At the very same moment that this meeting was taking place in La Boca, another meeting was in progress in the office of Sergio Mora. Paul Fuentes, in charge of Tuyo's internal security in Buenos Aires, was under fire from his superior.
"What in the name of heaven took Yolanda so long to report?" Sergio demanded, evidencing his irritation by lighting one of the few cigars that he smoked each day. "Our Mr. Brockton meets the Wolf three days ago and Yolanda waits until this afternoon to report the meeting!"
"I've tried to explain, Mr. Mora," Raul said defensively. "Three days ago Yolanda was following my assignment to shadow Brockton. He met an American in a clothing store and subsequently had a cup of coffee with the man. Yolanda was close enough to hear their conversation in the store and it was definitely that of two strangers who had just met casually. She reported that the same evening, noting that she believed it to be a chance encounter. At that time, Yolanda did not know what the Wolf looked like. Yesterday you wanted her assigned to Peter Martin. She did not pick him up until almost noon today, and that was when she realized that Martin was the man Brockton had met in the store. She reported it immediately and I called you. It could be pure coincidence."
"Don't bet on it!" Mora snapped. "What's happened to our check on Brockton in the States?"
"The photo we took should have arrived in New York today," Fuentes replied. "With any luck, I'll receive a call from our man tonight."
"We will wait for that," Mora said slowly, "but regardless of the nature of that report, I feel we should exercise caution in just how far we commit Mr. Brockton at this point."
"I agree," Fuentes said, visibly relaxing as his superior's temper seemed to abate. .
"Raul, how far can we commit Yolanda? Will she kill?"
Fuentes stood and walked slowly across the room to the large picture window while he considered the question.
"Under the proper circumstances, yes," he replied thoughtfully. "She has killed once, but it was, in a manner of speaking, self-defense."
"Tell me about it," Mora said.
Raul Fuentes carefully related the story of how Yolanda had stabbed a member of a group that she was in charge of during a demonstration. The man had lost his rterve and panicked, threatening to ruin the entire demonstration, and in a scuffle Yolanda stabbed him in the neck with a knife.
"Good," Mora responded. "Put somebody else on tailing the Wolf and keep Yolanda free. We may need her in Bariloche to take care of Mrs. Martin."
"Then we won't be making the ransom demand?" Fuentes asked, turning to face his employer.
"No, Raul, we won't be making the ransom demand," Sergio replied.
"Does the Hawk know this?"
"Not yet," Sergio replied with a smile. "Always remember, Raul, we use the outsiders we bring in. We never allow them to use us. The ransom of Mrs. Martin is a very dangerous affair with a number of risks we do not need to take at this moment. It also appears to me that Mrs. Martin offers us an excellent opportunity. You note, Raul, that the American embassy has released nothing on Mrs. Martin's disappearance?"
"Not a thing, Mr. Mora," Raul commented. "It seems strange."
"Yes, it does," Sergio responded, leaning back in his chair. "And it tells us something. It tells us that they do not want any publicity about Mrs. Peter Martin. The girl's mother is a member of America's bleeding liberal set. According to wire service dispatches, Mrs. Caldwell made a speech yesterday at a women's club denouncing the recent death of Salvador Allende as part of a military plot to take over the world. What do you suppose the reaction would be if Mrs. Caldwell's daughter appeared to be behind the assassination of Juan Peron?"
"But she would, of course, deny it," Fuentes suggested.
"Not if she had an accident during the assassination," Sergio said with a hard smile creasing his lips. He leaned forward and spoke earnestly. "I want you to go to Bariloche. Take a good photographer to execute the Hawk's plan. I want a draft on the Bank of America signed by Mrs. Martin. I want the letter of credit she has in her purse, and I want all of the traveler's checks signed in her hand. This is what you are to tell the Hawk," he said softly, outlining in detail what Fuentes was to tell Ignacio Sandoval.