Pistarini has asked me to assist you in passing through Customs and Immigration. ”
“How very kind of him,” Lowell said. “This is Major Lunsford.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Major,” the sturdy-looking man said, and gave Lunsford his hand. He did not volunteer his own name.
“If you’ll be kind enough to give me your baggage checks, we can be on our way. Your luggage will follow whenever this inefficient system of ours finally gets it off the aircraft.”
Lowell and Lunsford handed him their baggage checks.
The sturdy man snapped his fingers, and another well-dressed man appeared, neither as sturdy nor as tall. The sturdy man handed him the baggage checks and then, smiling, motioned for Lowell and Lunsford to precede him toward a row of booths, behind which sat officers of the Immigration Service of the Republic of Argentina.
“May I have your passports, please?” the sturdy man asked, and Lowell and Lunsford handed them over. The sturdy man handed them to an Immigration officer. It took him only long enough to find blank pages to stamp before he said, “Welcome to Argentina,” and waved them through.
The sturdy man led them into the reception area of the airport, where people gathered to meet incoming passengers. Among these was a U.S. Air Force major, holding a sign reading, LT. COL. LOWELL.
“Just a second, please,” Lowell said to the sturdy man, and walked up to the major holding the sign.
“My name is Lowell, Major,” he said.
“Major Daley, Colonel. Colonel McGrory sent me to meet you and Major Lunsford.”
“Colonel who?”
“Colonel McGrory, sir. The defense attaché.”
“What happened to Colonel Harris?”
“Colonel Harris is the army attaché, Colonel. This is an Air Force post. Colonel McGrory is the defense attaché.”
“Please tell Colonel McGrory I very much appreciate his courtesy in sending you out here, Major, and tell him that I hope he can find time to see me while I’m in Argentina.”
“Sir, Colonel McGrory asked me to take you to your quarters, and then bring you to report to him.”
“To report to him, you said, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please tell Colonel McGrory I hope he can find time for me to pay him a courtesy call while I’m in Argentina,” Lowell said. “And I’m sorry you wasted your time coming out here, Major.”
He walked back to the sturdy man, who led him outside the terminal where three cars, two Ford Falcons and a black Buick, were parked in an area clearly marked FOR TAXIS ONLY.
The sturdy man opened the rear door of the Buick and smilingly motioned for Lowell and Lunsford to get in, and when they had, got in the front seat. The Buick pulled away from the terminal. One of the Falcons followed.
Neither car even slowed when they came to the tollbooths for the airfield parking lot.
The sturdy man in the front turned.
“General Pistarini regrets, mi coronel,” he said, “that he was unable to meet you himself. The press of duty . . .”
“I understand, of course,” Lowell said. “We have reservations at a hotel called the Plaza.”
For the first time, the sturdy man frowned.
“The general has arranged accommodation for you and the major, mi coronel, in the Círculo Militar. Will that be a problem?”
“The general’s hospitality is overwhelming,” Lowell said.
“And our baggage will be going there, right?” Father Lunsford asked.
“It should be there within the hour,” the sturdy man said. “And there is no problem about your staying at the Círculo Militar?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Lowell said.
It was a forty-five-minute trip through traffic to downtown Buenos Aires.
“This is Plaza San Martin, mi coronel,” the sturdy man said. “We will pass the Foreign Ministry, on our left, and then come to the Círculo Militar. The building directly ahead is the Círculo Militar.”
He pointed to an enormous, French-style building, with a fifty-foot -tall, heavily gilded cast-iron double gate. Two soldiers, in field gear, armed with automatic rifles, stood guard.
Actual guards, both Lunsford and Lowell decided at about the same moment. Those rifles are not ceremonial.
“Beautiful building,” Lowell said.
“It was given to the Army in the early years of the century by the family who owns La Nacion, our major daily newspaper.”
“How interesting,” Lowell said.
“The Plaza Hotel, mi coronel, is on the far side of the Plaza,” the sturdy man said, and pointed.
They came close to the Círculo Militar. The huge gates swung inward, and in a moment Lowell saw that they had been pulled open by two men in white jackets. The soldiers with the automatic rifles unslung them, came to attention, and held the rifles stiffly