to work," Ben said.
"Like your Oscar said, they categorize you before they really look at you. It's called profiling. If you don't belong to the suspect genus, you get a free pass." Anna took out a tube of lipstick and, looking into a mirror, applied it carefully. She wiped it off a few times before she was confident that she had done it correctly.
By then, Ben was already in the bathroom, his hair slick with syrupy, foamy hair dye, which gave off a tarry, ammoniac smell. The instructions said to wait twenty minutes before rinsing. It also cautioned against dyeing eyebrows, at the risk of blindness. Ben decided to take that risk. With a cotton swab, he applied the thick fluid to his brows, pressing a wad of tissue paper against his eyes to prevent it from dripping down.
The twenty minutes felt like two hours. Finally, he stepped into the shower, blasted himself with water, and opened his eyes only when he was certain the peroxide had all been washed down the drain.
He stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a plausible blond.
"Say hello to David Paine," he said to Anna.
She shook her head. "The hair's too long." She held up the multi-cut electric clippers, chrome-clad except for the clear rubberized grip. "That's what this baby is for."
In another ten minutes, his curls were flushed away, and he was ready to put on the neatly creased U.S. Army fatigues that Oscar Peyaud had provided him. Blond, crew cut, he looked like an officer, consistent with the insignia, patches, and overseas service bars on his green uniform coat. U.S. Army officers wore identifying badges when traveling by air, he knew. It wasn't an inconspicuous way to travel; but being conspicuous in the right way could amount to a life-saving distraction.
"Better make tracks," Anna said. "The faster we can get out of this country, the safer we'll be. Time's on their side, not ours."
Carrying their belongings with them, the two walked to the end of the hall and stepped out into the parking lot.
They tossed Anna's garment bag in the backseat of the blue Renault, along with the white plastic sack that Oscar had given them. It contained the spent bottle of hair dye, and a few other pieces of garbage they didn't want to leave behind. At this point, the smallest detail could give them away.
"As I said, we're down to our last card, our last play," Anna said, as they made their way back on the highway heading north. "Strasser was a founder. We've got to find him."
"If he's still alive."
"Was there any indication either way in Sonnenfeld's file?"
"I reread it this morning," Ben said. "No, to be honest. And Son nenfeld thought it was entirely possible that Strasser died, maybe even years ago."
"Or maybe not."
"Maybe not. You're an incurable optimist. But what makes you think we're not going to get arrested in Buenos Aires?"
"Hell, like you've said, there were notorious Nazis living there openly for decades. The local police are going to be the least of our troubles."
"What about Interpol?"
"That's what I was thinking-they might be able to help us locate Strasser."
"Are you crazy? Talk about going into the lion's den. They're going to have your name on some watch list, aren't they?"
"You obviously don't know anything about the way the Interpol office is run down there. Nobody checks IDs. You are who you claim you are. Not the most sophisticated operation, let's just say. You got a better idea?"
"Sonnenfeld said Gerhard Lenz's widow may be alive," Ben said broodingly. "Wouldn't she be in a position to know?"
"Anything's possible."
"I'll try to remember that," Ben said. "You really think we've got a shot at getting out of this country undetected?"
"There aren't going to be any transatlantic flights at this airport. But we can get to some of the European capitals. I suggest that we both travel separately. There's a decent chance they're looking for a man and a woman traveling together."
"Of course," he said. "I'll go via Madrid; you take Amsterdam."
They settled into another silence, less tense and more companionable. From time to time, Ben found his gaze drifted toward Anna. Despite all they had been through today, she was extravagantly beautiful. At one point, their glances met; Anna defused the faint awkwardness with a crooked grin.
"Sorry, I'm still trying to get used to your new Aryan officer look," she said.
Some time later, Anna fished her cell phone out of her handbag and