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General Figueroa San Marco, his wife, and their three daughters were

  given a state funeral of the highest honor and laid to rest in a hero’s crypt in the

  elite Recoleta Cemetery.

  62

  Chapter Six

  The telegraph operator at the train station in Pergamino sat in disbelief

  staring at the notepad on which he had been transcribing an incoming

  message.

  “Surely there must be a mistake, this could not have happened.” He asked

  for verification, for the full transmission to be repeated. The message came

  through exactly the same the second time.

  ‘General Figueroa San Marco, his wife, and three daughters have been

  assassinated by a terrorist bomb in front of the Cathedral Metropolitana in

  Buenos Aires today, Sunday, 12 November, 1905. Stop. Notify Lonfranco De

  Seta to inform the staff at Buenos Recuerdos. Stop. Señor De Seta is then to

  make all haste to Buenos Aires. Stop. Contact the sender at once upon arrival.

  Stop. Signed Señor Lopez Bucharo, Attorney at Law, 1538 Avenue Paseo Colon,

  Buenos Aires. Stop.’

  Tears welled in the telegraph operator’s eyes as he called for his young

  apprentice to saddle a horse and ride like the wind to fetch Lonfranco De Seta

  to the station. He told the boy only that an urgent message awaited De Seta,

  and that the Italian must come at once to retrieve it.

  The operator refused to transmit any further communication for the next

  two and a half hours. He pulled the blind down on the door, locked it, and

  hung out the closed sign. He then sat down behind the keypad and wept.

  Only when the young apprentice was heard pleading with him to open up did

  he rise from his chair. An irritated Lonfranco De Seta stood before him in the

  fading sunlight. Silently he handed General San Marco’s executive assistant the

  cablegram.

  The following week was the bleakest time in Lonfranco’s life. He operated

  in a numbing vacuum, always efficient, but somehow detached emotionally

  from the events that swirled around him. Throughout the torturous days and

  nights, two questions never left his mind.

  The first was whether he could have saved the general and his family

  had he been present at the cathedral. The second, what should be done about

  informing Maria in Paris about the tragedy?

  Was it too cruel to inform her by telegraph, so far away and with only a

  paid governess to comfort her? What else could be done?

  JAMES McCREATH

  He would gladly have booked passage immediately to bring her home,

  but the newspapers would certainly break the story on the continent before his

  arrival. If he didn’t notify her of his plans, he might in all likelihood pass her

  traveling in the opposite direction, if she had already heard the news. That was

  too great a risk, so he decided to send a cable informing her of the tragedy as

  gently as possible. He would remain in Argentina and attend to the mountains

  of bureaucratic documentation that was piled on his desk.

  He assured Maria that he would stay by her side until she felt that she

  had a sufficient grasp of the estate matters, and requested that the general’s

  only surviving heir cable him with her travel arrangements, so that he could be

  prepared to meet her.

  As for his own future, he was certain that his involvement with the

  San Marco family was at an end, and that he would be seeking employment

  elsewhere as soon as Maria had a working knowledge of the general’s business

  ventures.

  Señor Bucharo had been most helpful in explaining the terms of the

  general’s will in a very broad sense. It stipulated that until any of the San

  Marco’s surviving issue turned thirty years of age, their share of the estate was

  to be administered by the appointed executors, whose number included Bucharo

  himself. What he didn’t tell Lonfranco about was a far more contentious clause

  in the will that could change the interpretation of the entire document.

  Lonfranco was given the impression that once a reconciliation of the

  estate’s assets had been completed, his services would no longer be required

  in the management of the San Marco business interests. After all, he was only

  twenty-two years of age, with no formal education, and an immigrant as well.

  Bucharo was unaware of the faith that the general had demonstrated

  in the young Italian’s business acumen. Their personal relationship was not

  documented in any of the papers at the lawyer’s disposal. Lonfranco was not

  mentioned in the general’s will, an instrument which had been executed some

  thirteen years earlier on the birth of his youngest daughter.

  The more knowledgeable that Bucharo became about the intricacies of the

  San Marco holdings, the colder and more offhand he became with Lonfranco.

  He finally told the young man that he should start to look for new lodging

  in Buenos Aires, that it would now be inappropriate for him to reside in the

  guest suite of Casa San Marco, as he had done in the past, whenever business

  brought him to the capital. The general’s unmarried daughter commanded

  more respect, he had been told.

  Lonfranco took the advice and moved his belongings into a one-room flat

  in the San Telmo barrio. It seemed to him that Bucharo wanted the general’s

  trusted assistant totally out of the picture by the time Maria arrived from the

  continent. She had cabled Lonfranco of her scheduled arrival date and had told

  him that she was holding up as well as possible.

  64

  RENALDO

  The last function that Lonfranco would perform for the general was to

  carry his saber in the state funeral procession that wound its way through the

  streets of the capital.

  President Roca had declared two days of public mourning, during which

  time the casket would lay in state in the Cabildo, the national legislature.

  Newspapers hailed San Marco as a great hero, a man of the people who

  gave his life so that Argentines everywhere could be free of terrorism. The

  funeral procession was the most elaborate seen in the capital in many years.

  Full military honors included squadrons of soldiers on foot and on horseback,

  military bands playing sorrowful laments, and dignitaries and socialites in their

  carriages. In addition, masses of common citizens marched to the cemetery to

  pay their final respects.

  Lonfranco marched beside President Roca, carrying the drawn saber

  at waist level, horizontally, between his two hands. They followed directly

  behind the casket that sat on an artillery caisson, covered by the national

  flag of Argentina and surrounded by elaborate wreaths of flowers. Behind the

  President and Lonfranco followed the hearses carrying the remains of the four

  San Marco women.

  The Italian’s distraught mind thought most often of the younger daughters,

  and how they had played and laughed during their all too short friendship. He

  would have laid down his life for those beautiful children, but now they were

  gone from him forever.

  Lonfranco was distressed to see Lopez Bucharo standing on the pier the day

  that Maria’s ship arrived in Buenos Aires. The two men eyed each other coldly,

  t
hen Bucharo broke the silence with his condescending upper-class accent.

  “You need not stay but a few minutes, Lonfranco. Señorita San Marco will

  accompany me directly to my office to attend to certain legal matters that are of

  urgent importance. Please keep your condolences brief. I am sure that she will

  be in touch with you once she is has adjusted to her new circumstances.”

  “Perhaps we should let Maria decide where she wants to go and with

  whom,” Lonfranco replied curtly.

  “I have been in touch with Señorita San Marco prior to her departure from

  Le Havre. She is aware of the importance of a smooth transfer of the family assets

  to the trust that the executors have set up. She will keep this appointment, and

  I will not tolerate any interference from you. Good day to you, sir!”

  The lawyer turned on his heel and walked haughtily down the quay.

  65

  JAMES McCREATH

  Maria looked surprisingly composed as she descended the gangway.

  Lonfranco had ingeniously tipped a porter several hundred pesos to borrow

  his red cap and jacket. These would enable him to gain access to the restricted

  embarkation area. He was standing at the foot of the ramp as she touched

  Argentine soil again. At first she did not recognize him in his disguise, but as

  soon as he removed the cap she fell sobbing into his arms. Bucharo, who was

  watching the scene in a rage from behind the fenced visitor’s area, tried calling

  her name as loudly as possible, but to no avail.

  As soon as Maria regained her composure, Lonfranco spirited her and the

  real porter to the baggage area where they were able to engage in a lengthy

  conversation while they awaited her luggage. Señor Bucharo had little success

  in bribing the police officer that stood at the entrance to the secured baggage

  compound. He was told that he would be arrested if he tried to enter the restricted

  area and to remain with the other visitors behind the fence. Humiliated and

  seething with anger, he retreated as ordered.

  The lawyer was able to control his temper, however, when he introduced

  himself to Señorita San Marco with a great flourish as she and her two porters

  swept past him on their way to the carriage that Lonfranco had hired for the

  day.

  “Señorita San Marco, my deepest sympathies. I am Lopez Bucharo,

  attorney-at-law. We were in communication before you left the continent. I

  trust you had as pleasant a crossing as possible under the circumstances. I am

  the chief executor of your father’s estate, and as I informed you, we have some

  very pressing matters to address right away. If you would be so kind as to

  accompany me in my carriage, we can proceed directly to my office where the

  documentation is all prepared and awaiting your signature.”

  Maria could barely control her disgust at what she considered an untimely

  intrusion.

  “Señor Bucharo, I realize that this is all very important to you, but I am

  tired and heartbroken, and I am going home now and nowhere else. I will see

  you at Casa San Marco tomorrow morning at ten, if you can make it there. If

  not, you may call and book an appointment at a later date. Good day, Señor.”

  Bucharo stood slack-jawed in amazement as Maria and the two men

  continued on their way past him. Never had he been talked to in such an

  insulting manner by a mere snippet of a girl.

  This must be De Seta’s influence, the attorney ruminated. He must be removed

  from the picture at once. As for the señorita, I will deal with the haughty little puta in

  my own way, when the time is right!

  66

  RENALDO

  Lopez Bucharo stood in the entrance portico of Casa San Marco at exactly

  ten o’clock the following morning. He was shown into the general’s den and

  asked to wait. Several minutes later, Maria entered the oak-paneled room with

  Lonfranco De Seta right behind her.

  “Señorita, thank you for seeing me so promptly. I do hope that you found

  your homecoming comforting. This business will only take a short time. I do,

  however, insist that we have our discussion in private. There is no assistance

  that Señor De Seta can provide for me.” Bucharo could not mask the look of

  contempt that he focused on the Italian.

  “That may be true, Señor Bucharo, but he can certainly be of assistance

  to me. Señor De Seta was my father’s personally appointed executive assistant,

  as well as being a longtime family friend and confidant. There was no aspect

  of my father’s business dealings of which he was not aware. We have discussed

  several topics since my return to Buenos Aires, not the least of which is your

  virtual dismissal of Señor De Seta from every facet of responsibility. Perhaps

  you would rather that I seek independent legal counsel before the will is read,

  so that I am fully aware of its contents and my rights.”

  “That . . . that will not be necessary, Señorita,” the stunned visitor professed

  meekly. “I assure you that I have only your best interests at heart. But there are

  certain legal facts about your father’s estate that are plainly and simply the law.

  You need sound legal advice to deal with them. I am your father’s appointed

  executor. Nothing can change that. I am the one you must deal with, and none

  of this concerns Señor De Seta!”

  Bucharo was becoming more and more irritated by the second. He had

  been warned by some of his colleagues that the young San Marco girl had a

  mind of her own, as well as being a finely bred, well-educated beauty.

  “Señor Bucharo, those are your choices. We can continue with Señor De

  Seta present, or we can postpone this meeting until I have sought outside

  counsel. What will it be?”

  “Very well, Señorita, let us proceed.”

  Bucharo figured that De Seta was the lesser of two evils as far as

  implementing his plan was concerned. The immigrant would have to be

  taken care of right away, though. The lawyer spread several documents on

  the general’s large desk, arranging them with meticulous care. When he was

  finished, he stepped back and motioned for Maria to assume the general’s chair.

  Once seated, Maria stared down at the documents, all of which were turned to

  the last page, the page requiring her signature.

  “Are you not going to explain these papers to me, Señor Bucharo, before

  I sign them?”

  “I have prepared a synopsis of the will and its effect on the estate. I also

  cover the new trust that has been set up on your behalf. I have it right here for

  6

  JAMES McCREATH

  you to read at your leisure. I did not want to burden you with legal details at

  this very difficult time. All that is required at the moment is your signature on

  these documents, then I will be able to administer the estate without concerning

  you about unimportant details.”

  “Señor, you must think me a fool!” Maria responded. “You bring me a

  synopsis of my father’s will instead of the actual document? I will sign nothing

  until I have read the original last will and testament! Do you think that I was

  studying needlepoint and flower pressing on the continent, Señor? This is the

  twentieth cent
ury, and women everywhere are awakening to opportunities never

  before available to them. The world of commerce and finance is opening up to

  people like myself. Women who don’t have to live under the yoke imposed on

  them by domineering, arrogant men! I want to learn about my father’s business

  interests, and Señor De Seta has agreed to stay on and help me acquire that

  knowledge. The first thing I want you to do, Señor Bucharo, is to bring me the

  original copy of my father’s will, so that I may study it. Then, and only then,

  will I allow you to explain these papers which you are so anxious to have me

  sign. Be forewarned that you are not dealing with some mindless female who is

  content to receive an allowance once a month, or whenever some stuffed-shirt

  lawyer decides she can have a few crumbs. Do I make myself completely clear,

  Señor?” Bucharo stared blankly at Maria before answering in his most haughty

  tone of voice.

  “Very well, Señorita, we will do it your way. But you will see that you are

  at the mercy of the estate’s executors. I would advise you that your personal

  relationship with those executors is of the utmost importance as far as your

  financial well-being is concerned. I have the original will in my briefcase right

  here. I will leave it with you, as I have another original at my office. Please give

  this matter your immediate attention, as there are decisions that have to be

  made right away. Good day to you both. I will let myself out.”

  Bucharo had gathered up the documents on the general’s desk while he

  spoke and had replaced them with a single manila envelope containing the will.

  He was flushed with anger as he strode through the door out into the foyer.

  Lonfranco, who hadn’t uttered a word throughout the meeting, was in

  shock over what he had just heard Maria say. He had always known that she

  was not afraid to speak her mind, but to say such things to a man of Bucharo’s

  stature was unheard of, especially from a lady.

  “Maria, I don’t believe what you just did. You must be more careful if

  your future depends on that man. He could ruin you! And what is this story

  about me staying on to help you learn the business? You did not discuss that

  with me last night, and Bucharo has made it painfully clear that there is no

  position for me as far as the estate is concerned.”