Chapter 6
David realized that Sergio Mora was suspicious of him. His first assignment was a courier run, something any one of their local men could have handled, and David correctly guessed that Mora was going to check him out in the States before trusting him with anything important. He had no idea what their check would produce, but he knew that he had at the very least three or four days before they could come up with anything.
Yolanda's remarks had confirmed that Tuyo was setting up a serious assassination attempt on Juan Peron. And, through Yolanda, David had confirmed that the Hawk, Ignacio Sandoval, was the contract man. All David needed now was a time table-and the whereabouts of the Hawk. He knew better than to ask too many questions, even of Yolanda, at this point. He had to keep his eyes and ears open and look for the Hawk on his own.
David had wanted to tip the embassy anonymously about the planned kidnapping of Peter Martin's wife, but he couldn't take a chance on a tapped phone or someone at the embassy leaking the tip. Mora would know that it had come from inside Tuyo, and David would be a prime suspect.
It seemed logical that the Hawk would be in on the kidnapping. David reasoned that this was the course that he would follow if he were in the Hawk's place, and David felt that he had at least a fifty-fifty chance of finding the Hawk if he could find the Martin woman before the kidnapping took place. As soon as he reported back to Tuyo from his courier task and found no new assignment, he set off for the Plaza Hotel to see if he could find the Martin girl.
It didn't take him long to find out that Mrs. Martin hadn't been in her room all day. He did learn that a number of packages had arrived for her from a boutique on Florida Street not far from the hotel. The manager at the boutique informed David that Mrs. Martin had been there between ten and eleven that morning, but that she hadn't been back since.
Jenifer Martin's trail apparently ended at the boutique. Playing a long hunch, he called the American embassy and asked for Mrs. Martin. The operator thought that he was calling on Mrs. Martin's behalf and connected him with the secretary who had helped Jenifer with directions.
"Is Mrs. Martin lost again?" the secretary asked.
"No," David replied cautiously, "it's just that I have an important message for her. She was supposed to meet me, and she hasn't shown up."
"Oh, I think I can explain that," the secretary responded, telling David about Jenifer's call. She went on to expalin where Jenifer was and how long before she had called.
David thanked her and hung up. Jenifer's call was almost an hour earlier, so she certainly wouldn't be anywhere near the area where she had been lost by now. David had a hunch that she might be on her way back to the Plaza, and he decided to sit in the small park in front of the hotel and wait for her. The manager of the boutique had inadvertently given him a reasonable description of the attractive young blonde and he had a good chance of recognizing her.
As he stepped out of the phone both, David felt the nerves in the back of his neck go tense. He immediately became alert. Over the years he had developed a special sense that made the nerves in his neck tighten when he was being followed. Without looking behind him, David was certain that he was being tailed. Who? Someone from Mora's group? Why? A routine check on him? Security police? After all, he had been recognized at the airport. Someone from the embassy?
His mind worked quickly as he walked at a deliberately slow pace along Florida Street. First, he had to find out who was tailing him. Once that was ascertained, he could decide how to handle the situation. He had to assume that whoever it was the person would be a professional, so he would have to be very careful.
Pretending interest in a sportcoat in a shop with a solid glass front, he entered the store and began inspecting a rack of coats. David didn't look toward the street until he had selected a coat from the rack and was in the process of trying it on. To his surprise, David saw no one positioned on the street to watch the shop. As he wondered about this, he turned to inspect the coat in the mirror. And at that point he saw the handsome young American looking through a table of shirts near the entrance. David knew that the man hadn't been there when he entered and he assumed that this was his man.
So it's the embassy, David said to himself as he pretended to examine the fit of the sportcoat in the mirror. Who else would send a man wearing Florsheim shoes and a Louis Roth suit? He felt his muscles relax a little as he walked over to the man.
"Say, you're American, aren't you?" David asked casually.
"Why, yes," the man answered.
"I don't speak much Spanish," David continued, "and I wanted an opinion on how this jacket fits. It feels tight in back. How's it look?"
David turned around and waited for the man to speak.
"It looks a little tight in the shoulders," the man offered, "but I'm no tailor."
"That's what I thought. Thanks a lot," David said, turning to face the man again. "Say, that's a good-looking shirt you have there. It would look great with white slacks."
"That's what I was thinking. Maybe I'll come back and get it later. I don't want to haul it around with me all afternoon."
"Have them send it to your hotel, or do you live here?" David asked.
"No, I'm staying at the Plaza," the man replied automatically.
David smiled inwardly with the certain knowledge that he was talking to Peter Martin, the man Tuyo thought was the Wolf. And the way Peter had betrayed himself so easily told David that he wasn't an experienced field man in intelligence.
"Look," David offered, "if you're not in a hurry, why don't we have a cup of coffee?"
"Fine," Peter replied, torn between his excitement at having found the Wolf by accident on the street after drawing a blank at the Aurora Hotel and an uncomfortable feeling that he had somehow managed to lose control of the situation in the past few moments.
David replaced the sportcoat on the rack and the two men walked up Florida Street to a confiteria, the casual, all-purpose, combination restaurant-bar that was so popular in Buenos Aires. They ordered coffee and dropped into easy conversation. Peter admitted that he worked at the embassy, placing himself in a minor role. David recognized the "partial truth" gambit immediately and Peter Martin rose several points in his evaluation.
"I work for a large organization that's interested in Argentina," David countered, "and I'm here to evaluate the political climate."
They both smiled and traded observations on Buenos Aires. David wanted to warn Peter about the plan to kidnap his wife, but he didn't dare reveal the fact that he was in possession of this information. He also wanted to warn Peter that a number of people believed that he was the Wolf, which placed him in a rather dangerous position. That was equally impossible, particularly when he didn't know where Peter stood. How much did Peter know? Why was he following David?
It was obvious to David that he couldn't trust Peter with anything at this point. That, in fact, he had to be very careful with Peter Martin.
"There are some very strong political currents flowing in Argentina right now," David said casually as they finished their coffee. "Some of these people are playing for high stakes. I imagine it could turn into a rough game for anybody who tried to interfere, don't you?"
"Well," Peter said guardedly, "I'm not really up on the scene."
"From what I've seen," David continued, issuing what he hoped would be understood as a warning, "some of these people play for keeps. They've bombed the Sheraton Hotel twice in protest against ITT. And I understand a number of people have turned up missing when they became involved. Someone told me we lost a couple of CIA men here last year. Disappeared and haven't been heard from since. We're advising our people to keep a low profile."
"I imagine that's good advice," Peter said noncommittally.
"Say!" David exclaimed, looking at his watch. "I've got to run. I'll be late for an appointment. Maybe I'll see you around. Been nice talking to you. I'll give you a ring at the Plaza some evening.
David frowned when he noticed that Peter Martin was following him down Florida Street after they parted.