Chapter 18
"Oh," David said, turning to Jenifer as they sat waiting in Carl Raitman's office, "one other thing. Just how did you get into that building with a gun? The security police were searching everybody who entered."
"Is that what they were doing?" Jenifer replied with the note of ingeniousness that had marked her conversation ever since the incident. "I guessed as much, darling," she said more seriously. "But Yolanda managed to talk her way and I couldn't see why I couldn't do the same."
"But you don't speak Spanish," David protested with a smile.
"Of course not, and I'll admit that that presented a small problem," she laughed. "But have you ever seen an Argentine who wasn't polite to a tourist? And, David, gentlemen would never think of searching a woman. I told them a man I had met had an office upstairs and had invited me up to see the ceremony. I honestly think they understood my English. They asked me several questions in Spanish, but when it was obvious that I didn't understand a word they were saying they let me pass."
Raitman's secretary stuck her head through the door and waited for a break in the conversation.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Foster," the secretary said, "but there is a call for you on the scrambler line. You can use the blue phone on Mr. Raitman's desk, if you like. Mr. Raitman just called and said he'd be back in a few minutes."
"Thank you," David said, crossing to take Raitman's swivel chair and pick up the blue phone.
Jenifer watched him closely. Although she was dressed in the clothes that she had brought for her honeymoon, Jenifer knew that she wasn't the same person. Her clothes were familiar, but they were no longer comfortable. They seemed to speak of another person, another time, even another place. When they had arrived in Buenos Aires the night before, the first thing that Jenifer wanted was a long, hot bath and a change into her own clothes. Then, when she was alone in her room at the Plaza Hotel, she suddenly found that neither the hot bath nor the change of clothes satisfied her. In fact, they made her nervous and edgy.
She had two problems to face: today was the first day of the rest of her life-and what was she going to do with her life from this point on? And, equally important, what was she going to do about this fantastic, exciting man? Was David a brief interlude in her life, an exciting man for a particular moment and circumstance?
When David hung up, he sat staring thoughtfully at a group of maps on the wall of Carl Raitman's office.
"What is it, David?" Jenifer asked softly.
"Huh? Oh, business, as usual," he said casually.
"Another assignment?" she asked, foreboding gripping the muscles in her stomach.
"Something like that," David replied noncommitally.
"David," Jenifer began, standing and walking to the only window in the office, "will you tell me something honestly?"
"Maybe."
"Nacho had to be killed, didn't he? I mean, he was an evil that had to be removed from society."
"Yes," David responded simply.
"I can understand that," she said slowly. "The girl was the same. It was her life or yours, so I have no regrets about what I did. What I want to know, David, is whether you kill because you believe, or because it's a way to make a living?"
David leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.
"I've asked myself that a dozen times, Jenifer," he replied slowly, thinking each word out before speaking. "When I'm cynical, I say it's a way to make a living."
"Do you believe that?" she asked, looking directly into his eyes from across the room.
"No, Jenifer," he smiled. "I do what I do because I believe that man deserves a better world than the one he makes for himself. And I suppose I chose this life because it's exciting and different. I'm afraid I'm not the ten-to-four banker type."
"Thank God for that!" she said with a light laugh. "Yet you told me yourself that you don't work for any one country or group. Doesn't that make you a gun for hire?"
"In a way, I suppose," David laughed. "But for hire only to the right people with the right cause. They couldn't hire me to bug Watergate or rob a psychiatrist's office. They couldn't hire me to spy in order to protect an oil company's interest. That's why I'm not on the permanent payroll of our government. Or of any government, for that matter."
"I think I resent that remark," Carl Raitman said as he closed the door and walked to his desk. "But perhaps that is because you lose your idealism in my job. Sorry to be so long. I think we're finally getting everything lined up. Mrs. Martin, here are your traveler's checks and documents. I think I'd destroy that draft on the bank. It's negotiable and you could lose it. You can go to the American Express office and turn these checks in and get new ones so you can sign them as you use them."
"I take it they picked up Mora?" David asked, getting up to let Raitman have his chair.
"This morning in Mar de Plata," Raitman replied. "Argentine Security nabbed Sergio Mora and a group of industrialists. The others will be released today on a lack of evidence, but they'll hold Mora on a larceny charge involving Mrs. Martin's checks and documents."
"But what about the fact that he was behind the plot to assassinate Juan Peron?" Jenifer demanded.
"What plot?" Raitman asked. "Right, David?"
"Right," David replied with a smile. "You see, Jenifer, it's only in the United States that a plot to assassinate a public leader is made public. The rest of the world, and particularly Latin America, is more public-relations-conscious. An attempt to kill a public leader indicates some dissatisfaction with the administration. Latins feel that that might make others feel dissatisfied. But if the public doesn't know...."
"They'll believe the propaganda that everyone is just wild about the administration," Carl Raitman interrupted. "And that's the official attitude on this case. Nothing-I repeat-nothing-happened in Bariloche."
"Can they do that?" Jenifer demanded incredulously.
"They have, and they are," David laughed. "Now, Jenifer, you're working on your post-grad political science course."
Jenifer laughed with the two men. Was it just a week before that she would have blushed scarlet at a remark like this?
"Now to several technical matters, as long as you two aren't going to include me in your private jokes," Raitman said. "First, David, we owe you some sincere thanks. The police laboratory report shows that the Hawk was killed by a bullet from the gun found in Mrs. Martin's husband's hand. Because Mr. Martin was in the employ of the United States Government, the Argentine Security Police feel they are in our debt for saving Peron's life. That should bring about some new cooperation here that will make our job a lot easier."
"Why thank me?" David asked with a smile.
"Because that was not Peter Martin's gun," Raitman responded. "The gun they found in his hand was a gun my people in Bariloche issued to you. If the bullet had not matched the gun found at the scene, the police would have clamped a security lid so tight on this country no one would have been able to breathe, and they wouldn't have released Mr. Martin's body. That was my second piece of news, Mrs. Martin."
"Please call me Jenifer," she said.
"Okay, Jenifer," Raitman continued. "I finally secured permission to get your husband's re mains. What arrangements do you want to make?"
"Do I have to?" Jenifer asked, obviously facing this issue for the first time.
"Well, somebody has to," Raitman responded. "What about his family?"
"Peter has no family," Jenifer explained, standing and walking to the window again. "You see, he was an orphan. He was raised in a foster home, but his foster parents died in a car accident two years ago."
"Then you're his only family?"
"This may sound awful," Jenifer said, turning to face the two men, "but I don't think of myself as Peter's family. It's like we were total strangers. I hardly knew him at all. We never even made love. Isn't that awful?"
"No, Jenifer," David replied. "In a way, it's beautiful."
"Beautiful?" Raitman asked, a note of sarcasm creeping into his voice.
"Not the situation, Carl," David said. "What's beautiful is that she is being perfectly honest. She's not making a pretense because it's expected of her. She's telling it like it is. I admire it because I see so damned little of it. You can arrange a funeral and all for Peter Martin, Carl. After all, the man worked for you. Is that what you want, Jenifer?"
"I'd appreciate it," Jenifer said thankfully. "It's not the money. I'll pay whatever it costs. It's just that I can't face being a hypocrite any longer. I couldn't dress in black or look broken up. I just don't have that in me any longer."
"Don't worry about the money, Jenifer," David laughed. "Mr. Raitman's employer is loaded!"
"David," Raitman said, "can you give me a written report on everything you learned about the Tuyo organization? We've hurt them, but we haven't come close to breaking the organization."
"It will have to be brief and fast," David replied, looking at his watch. "I have to leave the country this afternoon."
"New assignment?" Raitman asked.
David nodded his head.
"Can you say where?" Raitman asked.
"Problems brewing in West Germany," David replied. "They want me to have a look and see what can be done."
"What time do we leave?" Jenifer asked brightly.
"We?" David said, turning quickly.
"You don't think you're going without me, do you?" Jenifer replied in mock surprise. "Face it, David, you have a new partner."
"Now just a minute ... ," David began.
"Darling, you'd just better face it. You can either take me with you willingly, or I'll follow you. And you know I can do it! If I have to follow you, every time you start to climb into bed with some strange girl, I'll break the damned door down."
"Beautiful!" Carl Raitman exclaimed.
"Beautiful?" David snapped, turning to face the intelligence officer.
"The Wolf has been defanged," Raitman laughed boisterously.
"No, he hasn't, Mr. Raitman," Jenifer said firmly, crossing to David and linking her arm in his. "The Wolf has picked up a smart, mean bitch to share his lair. His price is going up because he now has two guns for hire. Didn't he tell you that I shot the girl in Bariloche?"
"You what?" Raitman exclaimed.
"Come on, partner," David laughed. "There's a Pan Am flight to Madrid at five this afternoon. We'll catch the morning Iberia flight to Berlin. And, my smart little hot bitch, one of the rules about this profession is that you learn to keep your mouth shut!"