Argentina: the Beautiful Land: A Novel

ARGENTINA:

THE BEAUTIFUL LAND

A NOVEL

DONALD L. LAWRENCE

Copyright © 2021 by Donald L. Lawrence.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/19/2021

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CONTENTS

Disclaimer

Preface

PART 1

Chapter 1: The Family

Chapter 2: The Argentine Intelligence Service

Chapter 3: The DeCavalieres

Chapter 4: Juan Bergamos and Franz Waldorf

Chapter 5: The Gaucho Again

Chapter 6: The Athletic and Sporting Ventures Club

Chapter 7: The Third Generation of DeCavalieres—Lorenzo DeCavaliere

Chapter 8: Rosita, Eduardo, and Senor DeCavaliere

Chapter 9: Renate DeJean

Chapter 10: Carlos DeCavaliere and his son, Ramon DeCavaliere—the First Two Generations

Chapter 11: The German Expatriates

Chapter 12: Renate and the Intelligence Service

Chapter 13: The Athletic and Sporting Ventures Club’s Spring Gala

Chapter 14: The Descendants of the German Expatriates

Chapter 15: Arturo and Geraldo

Chapter 16: Arturo and the Foreigners

Chapter 17: Juan Bergamos

Chapter 18: The Joint Venture

Chapter 19: The Meeting

Chapter 20: Renate’s Problem

Chapter 21: Rosita

Chapter 22: Rosita’s Ordeal

Chapter 23: The Special Forces

Chapter 24: Franz and Renate

Chapter 25: The Padron’s Vision

Chapter 26: The Sixth Generation of DeCavalieres

Chapter 27: The Federal Judicial Court

Chapter 28: The Two Padrones

Chapter 29: Franz Waldorf and the DeCavalieres

Chapter 30: The DeCavalieres and Callandrias

Chapter 31: Three Weeks Later

PART 2

Chapter 32: The Argentine Intelligence Service

Chapter 33: The Colonel and Stefano

Chapter 34: Zurich, Switzerland

Chapter 35: Rosita, Eduardo, and the Family—Home Again

Chapter 36: The Family and the Secretary of Defense

Chapter 37: The Brothers, the Seventh Generation

Chapter 38: Trouble

Chapter 39: Michael Callandria DeCavaliere

Chapter 40: Rick Callandria DeCavaliere

Chapter 41: Michael Practicing Law at the District Attorney’s Office

Chapter 42: The Sisco Gang

Chapter 43: Planning the Case

Chapter 44: Michael Meets Laura DeFina

Chapter 45: Michael Changes Course

Chapter 46: Michael and Carla

Chapter 47: Michael and Laura

Chapter 48: Laura Relocates to Buenos Aires

Chapter 49: A Dreaded Arrival

Chapter 50: Rick and the Tempestuous Bull

Chapter 51: Michael and Laura—the Path Changes

Chapter 52: Rick and Josie

Chapter 53: More than Six Months Later

Epilogue

Endnotes

DISCLAIMER

Argentina: The Beautiful Land is a work of fiction. Names, characters, clubs, business ventures, groups of persons, incidents, and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of a character to a real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Any resemblance of a club or business venture to any actual club or business venture is likewise coincidental and not intended by the author. The exceptions as to named characters are Juan Peron, former president of Argentina, and the former German chancellor, Adolf Hitler, both actual persons. The exceptions as to events noted in the story are certain historical events such as the Second World War and the Falkland Island military action between Argentina and Great Britain. Named agencies of various countries mentioned in the story are fictitious and meant only to approximate the duties of real agencies of such countries, which may have similar responsibilities to responsibilities of those agencies discussed in the story.

To my children, granddaughters, and son-in-law, who inspire me every day.

Also to the hardworking people of Argentina and the wonderful traditions they have given the world in settings including journalism, art, dance, sports, and industries, such as agriculture, animal husbandry, and mineral mining. We remember that the nation fought for and won its independence in the Argentine War of Independence of 1812, not long after the United States won its independence in 1786 in its Revolutionary War. We must remember also that nation building is forever, and rich traditions must always be protected and passed on from one generation to the next and beyond as they have been in Argentina: The Beautiful Land.

PREFACE

The story of this novel is that of a fictional successful Argentine cattle-ranching family through seven generations. The story told is of the lives of the fifth, sixth, and seventh generations, with a brief history of the first four generations also described. As the family builds its primary business and later expands into the additional businesses of racehorse breeding and then real estate, its success brings notoriety in Argentine society and, with that success, the challenges that accompany it.

The family then has the further task of holding off the challengers. The values of family, love, tradition, and commitment enable the responses necessary to combat the challenges. The love of country and its protection brings the family an added protector: Argentina. For this is a story not only of a family but also of a country and the close relationships that are formed between a country and its citizens willing to stand up for it in time of need.

Prior Novel

The Invasion Spy

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

THE FAMILY

1982

The slender, pretty young woman stood alone on the veranda of her family’s country hacienda on the Argentine pampas. In the early evening quiet, she looked out over the grasslands part of their property and the low hills beyond. She was twenty-two now and had always lived there. The ranch was a cattle-raising ranch owned for generations by her father’s ancestors, now by him, the fifth generation.

There is a peace that descends upon a country home in the evening, the wind whispering through the grass, bringing a quiet music, and lulling one’s senses. She stood there a few moments longer and then turned, walked into the house, and locked the front door. Her family name was DeCavaliere. Her first name was Rosita, Rosa for short to those who were family or close friends. The beautiful Rosa.

As the young woman climbed the stairs to where the bedrooms were, Sarita, the housekeeper cook, and Hermanosa, her partner in the work, were clearing the last of the family’s dinner dishes.

Sarita called out to her. Good night, little one. Sleep well.

Rosita replied, Good night, Sarita.

What time tomorrow? said Hermanosa.

Eight, said Rosita.

OK, rejoined Hermanosa.

For Rosita, college was now finished. A looming career in fashion design in Buenos Aires, an exciting life there too. Perhaps a young man! Then to her bed. Finally, tired, she drifted off to sleep.

ONE YEAR LATER—1983

The post-college year had been exciting for her. She had learned much about the ladies’ fashion design business and contributed to her company’s growth, all the while enjoying it as she had hoped she would. Now it was Friday. Today she was meeting Carlos, an executive with another company. He was much older than she, in his mid-thirties, introduced by a mutual friend. He was single, not a handsome man or the Romeo type. She enjoyed his company, but he wasn’t the man who would one day claim her heart. He would have wished it otherwise but sensed it probably wasn’t to be. Light banter and good food were plentiful, but it soon was time to return to her office.

She graciously thanked her host and excused herself, citing a busy afternoon and commitments. Her custom was to live in the city during the week near her office with a girlfriend but return to her family’s country home when the workweek ended. She enjoyed Sarita and her partner, Hermanosa, trusted housekeepers who were like family after almost a decade. Most of all, Rosita adored her father, Arturo DeCavaliere. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and they two shared a love of ranching life. The rest of her feeling for him she couldn’t put into words, if asked, but she, too, was a DeCavaliere, and maybe that was it. He was of the clan and carrying on the family legacy!

The ranch consisted of living quarters for the gauchos (cowboys) who took care of the cattle, stables for their horses, a blacksmith work area, and a second smaller house where Alvaro, the blacksmith, and Pepe, the foreman, lived. Then there were thousands of acres of grazing land for the cattle, a large lake for them to draw water from, and, of course, the main house, the hacienda where the family and the two housekeepers lived. Argentina, the beautiful land.

The ranch had been profitable through the earlier generations of the family, and with some of the profits, income-producing real estate had been acquired in Buenos Aires and was being managed by Arturo’s father, Geraldo DeCavaliere, who lived in the city with Arturo’s mother, the lovely Luisa.

The family also owned a racehorse-breeding ranch, a fifteen-minute drive from the cattle ranch, where the family bred and sold foals for racehorses, keeping some of the foals to race for its own account. The racehorse and horse-breeding business had been started by Geraldo’s father, Lorenzo DeCavaliere, perhaps the most creative of the prior generations of the family.

Rosita’s father, Arturo DeCavaliere, managed both the cattle-raising and horse-breeding operations well, but with wealth comes responsibility; in this case, his relationship with the six ranchers neighboring his holdings, the health of the cattle herds, and the grasslands they fed on.

Fortunately, over the years, both the cattle and the grasslands were healthy as to all the ranches, and Arturo’s ranch being the largest, and he, a most sensible padron¹ in matters affecting them all, they respected him, and peace and calm pervaded the area where they all lived and worked. The DeCavaliere Ranch had always been known as Pedrosa Ranch, so named by the original patriarch, Carlos DeCavaliere, who had started the cattle-raising business in the family’s first generation.

CAROLINA DECAVALIERE

The story of Arturo DeCavaliere and his stewardship of the two ranches could not be told without telling the story of his wife, Carolina DeCavaliere.

Her goal when the two of them met as young people in their early twenties was to become an actress on the stage. She had studied for it and at the age of twenty-three was only one year removed beyond her graduate school acting studies.

As sometimes occurs, however, careers become derailed according to events that befall their hosts. Carolina was a tall, willowy, pretty young woman who would appeal to many men. That the twenty-six-year-old Arturo was attracted to her was not surprising. At a cocktail party in Buenos Aires, an hour from his family’s ranch, he noticed her and soon after, holding two drinks in his hands, walked over to where she was talking with a few friends and then stood by her side, quietly waiting. She turned to him. Always a young man with mischievous eyes, he smiled, saying, I thought you might like a drink.

Then a half smile from her later, she accepted the drink, saying, Have we met before?

Arturo, with the confidence born of his noble heritage or perhaps simply of a young man comfortable in his own skin or both, rejoined, I would like to think so, but I don’t believe we have.

She sensed he was a different kind of man from any she had met before and asked, Do you always present women you don’t know with drinks?

He replied with a twinkle in his eye, No.

She countered. Then why me?

He had some choices here: either Because you are so pretty or I thought you might like a drink. He chose the former reply, and with his soft easy smile was given a smile in return. She asked what he did for work, and he replied, I spend a lot of time on horseback.

You’re a jockey?

He laughed. No. My family and I are in the cattle-ranching business, also the horse-breeding business. That was certainly different from what most of the men she met did for work. Then Arturo said, What do you work at, may I ask?

I’m trying to become an actress.

He responded, An interesting career.

Why do you say that?

Because it must be hard to become different people, one after the other.

Not really. It’s just ‘make believe.’

I suppose, he said.

Where are your ranches?

About an hour north of here.

Do you like ranching?

Of course, it’s in my blood. We are five generations of ranchers, you see.

I never met a rancher before.

I’ll tell you a secret, moving closer to her. I never met an actress before. She smiled broadly, acknowledging his sense of humor.

Would you like to visit a cattle ranch sometime?

She thought a moment, and it seemed her answer might not be positive, so Arturo quickly added, It may not be important.

Carolina thought she might have offended him, so she replied, Maybe.

Long before that exchange, her friends had moved off in another direction, leaving the two new acquaintances by themselves.

Arturo thought her so lovely, he felt they were alone and said, smiling, I didn’t know it was possible to be among so many and feel I was just with one. His statement made her blush, and he tried to graciously retrace his step, adding, I think we each found ourselves hearing of things we were unfamiliar with.

Yes. She approvingly smiled in return.

Well, Arturo said, I have a long trip home and I should probably start soon. Before I leave, would you like to be my guest for dinner one evening, here in the city, of course?

She replied, All right, because he seemed to be a nice young man, although she thought their interests were so different. He asked for and received her phone number. Then he thanked her, said he would call, and offered to help find her friends, but she said, I’m sure they’re not far.

Of course.

She then smiled and said, You know, we don’t even know each other’s name.

Arturo laughed and said, Then you won’t know who I am when I call you. I’m Arturo DeCavaliere.

I’m Carolina D. Gelinas.

He bowed. I’m pleased to meet you, Carolina.

And you are Arturo De . . .

Cavaliere, said Arturo. I know it’s a little different. Until next time then, Carolina.

Yes, Arturo. Good-bye.

After some dates, and Carolina finding Arturo to be caring and gentle, she agreed and visited the ranch. Soon after that pleasant visit and spending time with Geraldo and Luisa, his parents, the two young people had begun to mean more to each other than they earlier thought they might. Although Carolina didn’t wish to give up her acting career, she found she enjoyed her trips to the ranch and the life it seemed to be. After a while, she also realized she couldn’t give up Arturo. He was always charming and sweet to her and considered her feelings. When he told her sometime later he loved her and then presented her with a beautiful two-carat diamond ring, she couldn’t refuse him, realizing she loved him too and wanted to become his wife.

It was after some months of marriage she had the thought of becoming a playwright and, after taking a playwriting course a few days a week in the city, began to write at the ranch. It turned out she was good at understanding the feelings of the characters she created in her plays and also at conceiving stories of interest. In due course, the first play of hers that was accepted by a producer for the stage in Buenos Aires brought the new name of Carolina D. DeCavaliere to the theatergoing public. As time passed, her new plays were eagerly awaited, and she continued to grow in her new profession, finally being regarded as a star. As a further result, the DeCavaliere family name became more eminent in Argentine life, gaining respect beyond the field of business and in the arts as well.

Arturo was proud of his wife, and later, when Carolina gave birth to Rosita, they became a complete family. Arturo was always able to depend on his wife’s loyalties, good taste, and courtesies to guests who came to the ranch for either business or other reasons.

As for Carolina and Rosita, they got along well, for Carolina was easy to be around and wasn’t critical, and the two of them became as much like friends as like mother and daughter. Rosita, too, was proud of the recognition her mother’s playwriting abilities had brought her and admired her for her well-earned success.

ROSITA AND THE GAUCHO

Rosita loved riding on the pampas with the gauchos near the cattle during her weekends at home. One morning, while she was riding her favorite, Dante, a strong beautiful stallion, he slowed and then advanced and then limped and stopped.

Dante, what troubles you, pet?

Hardly had Dante stopped when a sturdily built young gaucho quickly rode up near them.

What trouble, senorita? Let me see, he said, jumping off his horse.

The gaucho quickly looked and then, Ah, there is a rock in his hoof. It’s hurting him. I’ll remove it. Dante nervously permitted the intrusion and then winced as the gaucho first loosened and then removed the stone in one swift motion. Rosita held Dante’s reins tight as the stallion reared and whinnied from the pain of the removal. The handsome gaucho laughed and then turned to the pretty young rider, seemingly noticing her beauty for the first time. She saw his brilliant smile as he faced her fully, and tall and strong as he was, thought he was beautiful too. His eyes seemed to smile at her as well.

Senorita, I think he will be all right, but you should probably take him home and let Alvaro look at his hoof. A quiet afternoon in the paddock would do him well. Less riding, less swelling, yes?

Rosita smiled back. You’re right. He is my favorite.

Yes, he is handsome. I’ll ride along with you in case there are more problems.

Oh, you needn’t. He’ll be OK, I think.

And what would your father say if I left you and the horse broke down again and couldn’t take you home—‘Eduardo, why did you leave my daughter on the range alone? What’s the matter with you?’ I’ll bet he would have my job—no more job for me, no more Eduardo to help you if your horse stops again. He laughed. Once more, that brilliant smile.

Come, we’ll ride back together. Dante knows me now. He’ll stay calm.

He had won her over. She thought perhaps she would want Dante to have trouble again so Eduardo could help her once more. He was handsome, this Eduardo, and gallant too, with an easy manner, and, oh, that wonderful smile. Yet his looks and manner were not those of a gaucho but seemed more those of a young man well born and bred. A mystery—but no answer.

Their ride home took twenty minutes at a peaceful walk. She discovered by his various questions that he was intelligent and seemed educated. He was a good listener too. She spoke of her days and life in Buenos Aires. His questions, impersonal in nature, attested to his good manners. When they reached the blacksmith area, she thanked him. He said, You’re welcome, senorita, tipped his hat, turned, and rode off, his horse at a walk first and then a canter. Then he urged the animal forward at a gallop and soon disappeared over a hill toward the herd.

At dinner with her parents that evening, Rosita told them of the handsome gaucho who had helped her with Dante, mentioning his good manners too.

His name is Eduardo, Father. Do you know him?

Is he tall, Rosa?

Yes, Father, quite handsome too.

I think I remember him. He came a few months ago. He could ride well, and Pepe said we could use him, since he had experience herding cattle, so we hired him.

A good choice, Father. I told him after he removed the stone from Dante that he needn’t accompany me back, but he said to me if the horse broke down again and he had left me alone on the range, you would probably let him go and he’d lose his job here.

Handsome rogue. He knew you were pretty and probably wanted to spend more time with you. I would have too.

Father, you are the handsome rogue.

Then Carolina chimed in. Daughter, you have been trying to steal Arturo from me for years now. I should spank you.

Then Arturo said, No, I should spank her. Then to the drawing room went the happy family for coffee and pastries.

The next day was Sunday and a day for church in the nearby town of Esperanza. The family went to the 9:00 a.m. Mass. Then Sarita and Hermanosa went to the 10:00 a.m. Mass.

It was the tradition at Pedrosa Ranch for the gauchos to gather on Sunday for a buffet lunch on the veranda, with the family usually attending as well. Arturo chatted with the gauchos as always. Then he noticed Eduardo. The padron walked over to him.

You are Eduardo, right?

"Si, padron."

I want to thank you for helping my daughter with her horse the other day.

I was happy to be of help, padron.

Tell me, Eduardo, where do you come from?

The north central, not far from Cordoba City.

A long way, I see.

Yes, I wanted to go south and spend some days in Buenos Aires.

Where did you work before, on a cattle ranch?

Recently I worked for the government helping to herd purchased beef until slaughter.

Well, thank you again, Eduardo.

Not at all, padron. It was my pleasure.

As Eduardo left, Rosita walked over to her father.

Father, he is nice, yes?

Don’t tell me you like him already?

Father, it is good for you to know the men who work for you.

For me—yes. For you, no!

Father, you worry for no reason.

You mean I can still spank you?

They both laughed. Her looks were enough to give her dad concern. A strikingly beautiful patrician face, turned-up nose, lovely lips, and perky brown eyes, with beautifully coiffed short black hair. A package to pique most men’s desire!

BUENOS AIRES

The next workweek was soon upon Rosita. Life again in Buenos Aires. On Wednesday, she was to meet a new acquaintance, one Ditas Vargas. He was an executive with a large conglomerate and whose job it was to find good businesses that could be profitably merged into his firm. A nice-looking man, he also had a slickness about him. She couldn’t quite take to him. Trust, she had been taught by her father, was important. Without it, there could be no relationship. After lunch, she quickly but graciously excused herself, saying she had a business appointment shortly.

As she walked back to her office, a man crossing the street caught her eye. He was tall and dark with curly hair, wearing a leather jacket and dungarees. He had a handsome profile. A picture immediately snapped in her mind—Eduardo. No, it couldn’t be him. He was at the ranch, of course. But still, the man’s profile looked so much like him. She was unable to recognize him by his walk because Eduardo hadn’t walked much when they met. She kept staring and felt her mind playing tricks on her.

A gaucho in Buenos Aires? Rosita, you are dreaming. You must dismiss this gaucho from your mind. But he was quite nice to me, gallant, and a gentleman too. She sighed and kept walking to her office.

CHAPTER 2

THE ARGENTINE INTELLIGENCE SERVICE

1982

The office in the building the handsome man who looked like Eduardo entered was known as Enterprise Products. It was only a name, though, intended to mislead those who didn’t know its purposes.² It was not expensively furnished. Four men sat around a table: the young curly haired one and three others of various ages older than he. The eldest, a colonel, about age sixty, spoke.

We will soon start our diplomatic efforts to have the British give up their Falkland (Malvinas) Islands base. The legislature is with the president on this matter. It is possible it may come to military action. Argentina is committed to this course.

As to our next issue, as we have discussed, the European people who entered Argentina around the mid-1940s, many to escape their possible fate in Europe, are in their later years now. Some have passed on. A few of those who are alive may wish to exert some influence on our policies and our economics. Our concern is they may seek to gain an advantage through their money and influence with some Argentine politicians. We have heard such rumblings through some of our agents in country. Imagine if a former Nazi or other foreigner allied with an Argentine politician helped him win an important political election. Perhaps a foreigner could hold influence if his money helped the politician get elected. Perhaps in certain respects our nation was then operating for the benefit of these foreign elements. We have concerns if some of them were to control commodities and/or mining interests essential for peace and for war machines, etc.

Somber-faced colleagues seated around the table nodded in agreement. The senior man continued. We have a number of our agents trying to gather information on such persons. Our information gathering must be hurried because of possible action in Falklands.

Gentlemen, AIS was created by our government to keep our country safe. That is what every nation’s intelligence service is about. Then turning to the youngest of the group, the colonel continued. That is what Stefano’s job at the ranch on the pampas is about—to find out whether any of the cattle ranchers are owned in part by any foreign elements or are influenced by them. If so, we must have their interests divested. After all, our food supply chain of beef is of great importance to our nation. This area one hour north of our city, here, is the largest beef supplier to our nation.

Stefano, what have you learned during your time at Pedrosa Ranch?

"Colonel, there are seven large cattle-raising ranches in that area. Five of these ranches are owned by families whose ancestors owned them for many generations. Pedrosa Ranch, where I am working, is the oldest and most respected, the largest of them too, by far. I have spoken to the padron there, Senor DeCavaliere. I judge him to be his own man—not under any outside influence. He seems a good man and treats his gauchos well. Of the other ranches, one of them is owned by a Senor Losano, an old widower who keeps to himself. He has no known partners.

The seventh ranch is owned by a Juan Bergamos, a very outgoing social type. His family and he have owned it at least thirty years. But he is an Argentine. He is reported to have good friends among the social set in Buenos Aires.

Ah, said the colonel, this is the man we must find out about. Major Georges, make immediate inquiries as to him. I want to know, if possible, where that family’s purchase money came from to buy his ranch. Also, the cost of the purchase, if you can. It occurred, you see, at the time during the mid-1940s when the foreigners came here.

Then the colonel turned to the last man at the table, Captain Felipe. Felipe, you must try to get a man in as a gaucho to Bergamos Ranch. Have your man try to find out about who his close friends are. Also, what other investments he may have. Who his partners are, if any. If you can’t get a man into the ranch, even if you can, have a man follow him and keep close watch over where he goes, whom he meets, etc.

Yes, Colonel, I understand.

Stefano, do you know how many head of cattle DeCavaliere runs at his ranch, and how much do each of the other six ranchers run? And, Stefano, who is the second-largest rancher, and how much cattle does he run?

That is Vincente Aragona.

Are he and DeCavaliere on good terms or not?

I will try to find out.

Good. Report back as soon as you are able to.

CHAPTER 3

THE DECAVALIERES

THE DECAVALIERE HACIENDA

Padron, there is a phone call for you.

Thank you, Hermanosa. I’ll take it here in the study.

DeCavaliere speaking.

Yes, Arturo, this is Juan Bergamos speaking.

Hello, Juan. How are you, and what’s on your mind?

We are fine, and I’m calling to invite you, Carolina, and your Rosita to Saturday dinner this weekend at our home. My son, Ramon, will also be there, and it will be nice for Rosita and him to meet, don’t you think?

Thank you, Juan. It’s quite nice of you, but I couldn’t say right now, since Carolina is not here and she knows our schedule. I’ll call you back as soon as I have spoken to her.

Yes, that will be fine, Arturo, and thanks, my friend.

As he hung up his phone, Arturo mused, Why all of a sudden? Why not—we are neighbors, no? But he mentions his Ramon and our Rosita and how nice for them to meet. Maybe he has a marriage in mind, and a larger ranch for him if I died. Keep your wits about you, Arturo, my friend.

THE FOURTH AND FIFTH GENERATIONS OF DECAVALIERES—GERALDO DECAVALIERE AND ARTURO DECAVALIERE

Arturo DeCavaliere sat in the wingback chair in his study after Bergamos’s telephone call. Late on this Wednesday afternoon, he was free of business matters, and the family’s dinner would not be until about three hours later. He poured himself a whiskey and began to consider all the hard work it took to operate the cattle-raising and horse-breeding businesses his father, Geraldo, the fourth generation, had passed on to him when Geraldo moved into the city to please Luisa, Arturo’s mother. Arturo had been pressed into management at too young an age because of his father’s promise to Luisa, herself the daughter of a multimillionaire shipbuilder, Jose De Paloma. At age eighteen, Luisa could not even consent to marry Geraldo if she wanted to. He, however, would have taken her at first sight. After dating for two years, Geraldo had finally obtained her father’s consent for them to be married and later promised her that when Arturo became seventeen, Geraldo would make him padron and move into the city with her. So it came to pass that Arturo took over the ranch and its management when only seventeen with often advice from Geraldo. Geraldo and Luisa still lived in Buenos Aires these many years later. Geraldo managed the family’s real estate interests in the city, and Luisa opened a fashionable jewelry business. They became well-respected members of a wealthy social set, and the two ranches remained intact with Arturo growing more each year into the role of padron.

CHAPTER 4

JUAN BERGAMOS AND FRANZ WALDORF

ESPERANZA

The small but necessary town of Esperanza lay about ten miles north of Pedrosa Ranch and about five miles south of Bergamos Mountainview Ranch. The town provided essentials for the various ranches in the area and the workers and their families who served such ranches.

On a sunny weekday morning, two men sat at a small café, choosing a corner rear table. One of the men was Juan Bergamos, and the other was a well-dressed man whose initials were sewn onto his shirt as FW. They were at ease together and spoke softly so as not to be heard, though there were few others in the café at the time.

The man with the FW initials on his shirt asked, Are you close to your objective at this time?

Bergamos answered, I think so. He is interested in the money our group can give him if we are satisfied. We have to know him better, though. As you know, one can make promises so to obtain money, but the question is, will he keep his promises if elected? This is what I must find out.

The man with the FW initials said, Of course, you must protect our group, but you can’t rush.

I understand, but as the Americans say, ‘Time is money.’

In the meantime, how are we doing at the ranch, Juan—well, I hope?

Yes, we are. But I’m also looking for more properties for us in ranching that may cost little or nothing. Bergamos then laughed and added, Don’t ask how.

Their conversation now finished, they requested a bill, paid, and left the café, entering different cars.

Back inside the café, the man sitting at the opposite rear corner table reading a paper as he sipped a coffee and having amplified earphones was making notes by pen. He had heard it all behind the newspaper. Ostensibly, if asked, he was in the area looking for country real estate to build a home on, but he left soon after the men he watched left, not being asked anything by the cashier.

FRANZ WALDORF

The man Bergamos had met for coffee was a cautious and studious man who had emigrated from Austria in the mid-1940s. Waldorf was his surname, Franz his first name. His father, a successful merchant, was also cautious, sending the son to a first-rate Austrian college, but the father was the boy’s first teacher. From the time the boy attained age fifteen, his father had attempted to mold these postulates into his son’s mind:

1. Always investigate things you are asked to make important decisions on;

2. Never get in over your head, financially;

3. Check out people you may do business with, and be closemouthed; and

4. Be even more careful if you are going to be partner with someone in any venture.

Mr. Waldorf Senior asked Franz to write these points from memory ten times each, once a week. After a few months, Franz knew them by heart. They became a large part of who he was and how he thought. He soon saw the Nazi problem and their invasions of neighboring countries right before his eyes and then Europe ablaze with shells from guns, tanks, artillery, and planes. He knew Europe was no place for him and thought about some other place to live free from the scourge of war. After time and research, he reached what he thought was a sensible conclusion, deciding upon Argentina. He liked its history and that it had a thriving aristocracy, but, foremost, that it was across an ocean from Europe. He decided to immigrate there. In fact, the teachings of his father helped make Franz a cautious man, a loner. He entered Argentina on a work visa, gained employ in a financial firm, and began studying investment planning at a local college in the evenings.

In a few years from the time he emigrated, the world changed dramatically. Hitler’s Reich and Germany were soundly defeated by the Allies, and the world slowly began its return to normalcy.

For Franz, personally, more changes were looming. In a few years, he received word that his father had died of a heart attack. Franz was now the leader of the family, including his mother and elder sister, Eva. It turned out that his father had amassed a small fortune, some of it too conservatively invested. Franz offered to take over management of the estate and, with his mother’s approval, soon began to achieve better investment returns for his mother, sister, and himself.

It was also true that during the last year of World War II, many high-ranking Nazi officers and other officials had fled Germany before the advancing Allied troops were able to capture them. Many immigrated to South America, including Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Chile.

It was inevitable that over time, and being Austrian himself, Franz would meet and make friends and clients of some of them, now having established his own investment advisory firm. As for these Europeans now in South America, most had kept a low profile, some to conceal their identities since some might have been adjudged war criminals, or might be if found. The art treasures and jewelry they had amassed needed to be converted into liquid assets and then invested to pay their living costs.

Their need for astute investment advice brought them to various firms