But outside the safe house Fuldner confessed that while it was true that all of us would require a cedula from the local police station, this was not, in fact, where we were now going. “Only I had to tell them something,” he said. “I could hardly tell them where we’re really going without hurting their feelings.”

“We certainly wouldn’t want that to happen, no,” I said, climbing into the car.

“And please, when we come back, don’t for Christ’s sake say where you’ve been. Thanks to Eifler, there’s already enough resentment in that house without you adding to the store of it.”

“Of course. It’ll be our little secret.”

“You’re making a joke,” he said, starting the engine and driving us away. “But I’m the one who’s going to be laughing when you find out where you’re going.”

“Don’t tell me I’m being deported already.”

“No, nothing like that. We’re going to see the president.”

“Juan Peron wants to see me?”

Fuldner laughed just like he’d said he would. I guess my face did look kind of silly at that.

“What did I do? Win an important award? Most promising Nazi newcomer to Argentina?”

“Believe it or not, Peron likes to greet a lot of German officers who arrive here in Argentina, personally. He’s very fond of Germany and the Germans.”

“It’s not everyone you can say that about.”

“He is a military man, after all.”

“I imagine that’s why they made him a general.”

“He likes to meet medical men, most of all. Peron’s grandfather was a doctor. He himself wanted to be a doctor, but instead he went to the National Military Academy.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” I said. “Killing people instead of healing them.”