Sybilla was looking at him intently, her brow furrowed, but he steadfastly refused to meet her gaze, staring instead at the valley he had indicated. What on earth had prompted him to tell her this? Was he just showing off his local knowledge or had there been an ulterior motive, and if so what?
After an afternoon of skiing, they made their way back down to the hotel. Snow had started to fall, giving the area an enchanted look, so much so that Sybilla couldn’t go inside immediately. Instead, she stood outside savouring the atmosphere: the lake shimmering in the dim light, snow falling around her, the mountains, almost invisible now, brooding and menacing. This couldn’t be Argentina! Yet it was, and her thoughts inevitably turned to her predicament.
If she couldn’t get the information she had come for, perhaps she could retrieve the situation by taking something back. How useful to British and American scientists was the work being done by Richter? Could she engineer a way onto Huemul Island and perhaps gain valuable knowledge of the processes he was using to achieve cold fusion? It was a long shot but worth a try. Perhaps she could use Tiny to get onto the island.
It was a slightly more buoyant Sybilla who sat down to dinner. Skilfully she managed the conversation until they were talking about Huemul. “Do you know, Tiny, I’d love to go onto the island and look around. It must be fascinating!”
“I sincerely hope you never do,” said the big man, his voice flat.
“Why is that?” she asked, her voice registering surprise.
“Billa, there are only two ways you could get onto that island. One is that I take you—and that is never going to happen—and two is if you land there covertly. If you do that, I will find you and I will shoot you dead!”
Sybilla shot back in her chair, bolt upright, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide and staring. “Wha … what did you say?”
“If you get on the island, I will have to shoot you, otherwise you will blow my cover,” he said quietly.
“Your cover?”
“Oh, come on Agent Skadi, it’s time we stopped shadow boxing,” said Tiny, speaking quietly in English. “I’m Agent Valentino Garza, CIA, and you are Sybilla Thorstaadt, aka Frau Meyer, aka Skadi of MI5. I can’t believe you didn’t ‘make’ me sooner—I dropped enough hints. I even told you of an escape route from Argentina!”
Sybilla stared at him for some time, her lips a thin line, her eyes steely and penetrating, then a huge grin erupted onto her face and she started to laugh. “Tiny, I really, really hate you, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Tiny shrugged and looked sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure about you. I mean, I knew who you were, but I wasn’t sure how safe you were. I was worried that if I told you, you might inadvertently blow my cover. I really am sorry, I guess I should have known better.”
Sybilla nodded. “Okay, but why don’t you want me on the island? Wouldn’t it be possible to find out somehow what Richter is up to? That might be extremely useful to our own scientists.”
“I don’t want you on the island for two reasons,” said Tiny, shaking his head. “One, it would risk blowing my cover as I’ve already explained, and two, there is nothing left to find out. Every piece of paper Richter has ever written on has been photographed and sent to the States for analysis. More than a dozen close-up pictures of the apparatus he uses have been taken. I have a technician on the inside who draws two pay cheques every month, one from the Argentina Nuclear Energy Authority and one from the CIA which is paid into a secret account in the US. He’s very assiduous in his duties and comes into the lab every weekend to clear up and tidy up the professor’s papers. Anything new gets photographed and shortly after, finds its way to the CIA.”
“What are the findings of the experts who have analysed the papers? Are you allowed to share that?” asked Sybilla, her curiosity piqued.
Tiny chuckled. “I can give you that in one word—baloney! Some of the best minds in the States have looked at this and they say it’s going nowhere. Einstein and Allis say the theory is wrong. Enrico Fermi is not so sure; he thinks the theory has some plausibility but is adamant that cold fusion has not, so far, been achieved.”
Sybilla whistled through her teeth. “If President Peron hears that, heads will roll. He’s placed a lot of faith in Richter.”
“The only head that will roll will be Richter’s. Peron’s own physicists—and there are some good physicists here in Argentina—have warned him that they have severe reservations about Richter’s claims, but Peron won’t listen to them,” said Tiny. “I think the whole sordid business will come out within the next year or two, and probably a lot sooner.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Sybilla digested the information, then sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, so where does that leave me? You’ve already beaten me to the one thing I thought I might salvage from my mission. So, I may as well pack up and go home.”
Tiny shrugged. “Sure, you could do that if you’re a quitter, but unless I read you all wrong, I don’t think you are. What was your mission?”
“To find out if Hitler is in Argentina and, if he is, to find out where.”
“So, complete your mission,” said Tiny pulling a wry face.
Sybilla gave a surprised laugh. “From here in Bariloche? Tiny, I’m a thousand miles from the action, I need to be in Buenos Aires!”
Tiny squinted at her from under his eyebrows. “Who
