for?” Rangio asked.
“Yes, sir,” the two said, again almost in unison.
“Well, then, gentlemen,” Rangio said. “I suggest we get on with the tour.”
He started taking off his flight suit, and the others followed. Under them, they were in civilian clothing. They tossed the flight suits into the L-23.
Three cars were waiting outside the hangar, a 1963 Buick and two 1962 Chevrolets. Rangio got behind the wheel of one of the Chevrolets and motioned Zammoro and Oliver to get in with him. Major Javez got behind the wheel of the second Chevrolet, and Jack, de la Santiago, and Otmanio got in with him. Colonel Lamm got in the Buick alone and, leading the little convoy, drove off.
There were signs all along the two-lane highway, posting a 110-km (about 70-mph) speed limit, and there were two gendarmerie posts along the thirty-mile road to Alta Gracia. The speed limits were ignored, and the little convoy sailed past the gendarmerie so fast the gendarmes barely had time to recognize the Policía Federal chief’s Buick and salute.
They came to Alta Gracia, a town of about 30,000 people, and drove through its streets until they came to a residential area. The right turn signal on Colonel Lamm’s Buick flashed. The two Chevrolets pulled to the curb and stopped. The Buick continued on.
Rangio got out of the his car and walked to the car behind him.
“The house directly across from here is where Dr. Guevara spent his childhood and early manhood,” he said, indicating a small, well-cared-for house with a covered verandah behind a fence. “His parents still live in that house. From here, we will go to his parish elementary school, San Tomas Aquinas; and to his secondary school, San Pedro y San Paolo; and the football field where he tried to play football. He had asthma, which made it difficult for him, but he tried. He went from here to Buenos Aires, where he attended the university—which I have already shown you—and earned the degree of doctor of medicine.”
A man came out of the house to the right of the Guevara de la Serna residence, and stood by the door and watched them.
Rangio got back in his car, gave them two minutes to study the house, and then drove off on the tour he had promised. They went into both schools, and into both churches. In the parish church of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Rangio led them down the aisle to the altar.
“Dr. Guevara was an altar boy here,” he said. “What he has become very much distresses the priests and the good sisters, and they have no excuse for it.”
There were high-school-aged boys playing soccer on the soccer field, and they watched the game in silence for several minutes before Rangio walked wordlessly back to his car and they drove off, back to Córdoba. Jack wondered what had happened to Colonel Lamm in the Buick, and decided that Lamm had felt his duties were over once he had shown them Guevara’s home.
They drove up to the Hotel Crillon in Córdoba and went inside.
They were shown to a private dining room off the main dining room. Colonel Lamm was already there, and so was the man who had come onto the porch of the house next to Guevara’s.
Rangio pointed to a table laden with wine bottles.
“I understand that Enrico will be flying,” Rangio said, nodding at de la Santiago, “so he gets no wine. But for the rest of us . . . Unless someone would prefer whiskey?”
A waiter pulled a cork and poured a sample for Rangio’s approval. He sipped it, nodded his approval, and the waiter began to fill glasses.
“The wine is from Córdoba Province,” Rangio said. “We like to think our Argentine wine is as good as any.”
He waited until everyone had a glass, then raised his glass to the man who had come out on his porch to watch them.
“I would like to thank Señor Manuelo Frotzi for joining us,” he said. “I happen to personally know that he is both a good Catholic and a patriot. He is in the difficult position of liking Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, who he watched grow up as the friend of his son Reynaldo, who is now a captain in the 1st Regiment of Grenadiers, stationed in Buenos Aires. I will arrange for Zammoro, de la Santiago, and Otmanio to meet with Capitán Frotzi in the next few days.”
Señor Frotzi smiled uneasily at them.
“Unfortunately, Señor Frotzi doesn’t speak English very fluently, ” Rangio went