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Commisar and the Judge affirm, this is a classical case: a classical case inside the
Intelligence and the International Counterintelligence.
Maidana was convinced of his theory and I’d have to give him an asnwers without
dilations.

Chapter VIII

A half past eight in the morning. I was in the kitchen of the Property of Cerrillos, having
breakfast with Uncle Kurt and the Commisar Maidana. I remembered with sadness that in such
ambience I had seen my parents together for last time: hindmost image of a reality that would
be repeated anymore; as a product of the journey that I undertook that morning, my parents
now were in the next-room, inside of huge coffins. The remembrance hurted me, but according
to Uncle Kurt that was the weakness: the Hyperborean Initiates, the Knights, he told me
in Santa María, could not have a family; and much less love it: that would be to convert them
in target of the Enemy, exposse them to secure destruction, and, what was worst, it would be
our weak point. In that time I underestimated his advises, but now I comprehended fatally
how much truth existed in his words: for that reason he insisted too much: he, who knew the
Enemy also knew, as I know it now, that none adviser was enough to be prevented against
them. He had private himself for 35 years to see his sister regularly to protect her, and would
be me, the son, who would send her reckleslly to the executioner. It was as to go mad. But I
could not lose my mind. About the death of my family I had certain responsibility for
the committed negligence. But I should not forget that the target objectives had been
executed by the Enemy. We were, then, in a war: and in the Strategy of that War, I
had to comply with a mission!

After the breakfast, Maidana would pass a moment through the Police Leadership in Salta and
then he would go to rest. He had promised to come back at the 18 hrs. for the inhumation.
However he hurried a definition in the act about his help offering. For him time could be waste,
because each minute that trancurred was an adventage that the killers took in their escape
tactic. Now, he suggested, if I didn’t want to catch the material killers but I wanted to smite the
instigators, the we could talk in another occasion less dramatic, because I assured that his
nationalist group would also help me.
It’d not be necessary to wait: I had already taken a decision:
–Commisar Maidana. Would you be so gentle to wait just thirty minutes more, and not
take bad that I talk with Mr. Sanguedolce alone? –I asked.
–I’ve none inconvenients –He said with trust. Then, while Uncle Kurt was going to the
stairs, he approached to my ear and added–. Deliberate calm, but don’t believe that I am stupid.
I have seen attentively and I would swear that he is not Italian. Perhaps he is German or of
some Nordic country. And perhaps he is your relative or one of those nazi heroes that search
for Jews to liquidate. Perhaps he is the objective of the cult of the Asian killers: a «contract» of

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