“So, what really brings you up here, Clete?”
“On the way back from Portugal with yet another load of Teutonic people carrying Vatican passports, as I sat there watching the needles on the fuel gauges drop, I wondered what was going to happen to Boltitz and von Wachtstein once the Germans surrendered.”
“And?”
“I thought that they would probably be loaded onto a troopship, returned to the former German Thousand- Year Reich, and then locked up in a POW enclosure until somebody decided their fate. If they survived that long.”
“And that’s probably what will happen.”
“So I figured I’d better come up here and get them.”
“The injustice of the Nazis getting to go to Argentina, and the good guys getting locked up—and possibly worse—is that, more or less, what you were thinking?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. We owe them, and you know it.”
“You did give just a little thought to their being locked up at Fort Hunt and getting them out of there would be impossible?”
“
Graham raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that at this moment, they’re sitting in my grandfather’s Cadillac, which is waiting in General Donovan’s reserved parking spot.”
“You got them out of Fort Hunt?” Graham asked incredulously.
Clete nodded.
“I told them you wanted to talk to them; had sent me out there to fetch them.”
“And what the hell do you plan to do with them now?” Graham said. But before Frade could reply, he asked, “Why the hell did you bring them here? To me?”
“Well, the guy at Fort Hunt didn’t entirely believe me. So he took the path of least resistance.”
“Explain that to me.”
“He was afraid I was telling the truth, so that made him afraid to call you and check. And he was afraid I was a phony. So he sent a jeep and a weapons carrier loaded with MPs with me, to make sure I came here.”
“And now what, Clete? Now that you’ve painted yourself into one hell of a corner?”
“Well, I had the security guards order the MPs to the front of the building. If there’s another way to get out of the parking lot behind the building, I get in my car and we’re gone.”
“To where?”
“Gravelly Point.”
“What did you do, fly your Red Lodestar into there?”
“No. What I have is a South American Airways Constellation.”
“You flew a
Clete nodded.
“I’ve now got about fifteen hundred hours in Connies. I’m getting pretty good at it.”
“And what do you want me to do? Bring you cigarettes and magazines when you’re in the Portsmouth Navy Prison?”
“I want you to do what you know is the right thing,” Frade said seriously. “Help me get to the airport.”
Graham exhaled audibly.
He met Frade’s eyes, then spun around in his chair. Then he turned so that he was facing Frade again.
“You’re way ahead of me, aren’t you, you clever bastard?” he said icily. “You know that if Donovan himself walked in right now, the chances of you being court-martialed—which you richly deserve—are damned slim. You know too much. And the same applies to me.”
“I wouldn’t have come here if that light bird at Fort Hunt hadn’t sent the MPs with me. I had no intention of involving you in this at all.”
“And what did you think was going to happen when you got away with it?
“I’m going to drop off my resignation from the Corps at the embassy in Buenos Aires the day I get back. Then I’m going to disappear in Argentina. I saw Mr. Dulles in Lisbon. He said I’m going to have to decide what to do, and what I’ve decided is to disappear. I’m getting pretty good about helping other people disappear there.”
“You can’t just resign from the Corps, you goddamned fool! You’ll get out of the Corps only when the Corps permits you to get out of the Corps!”
Frade stared at Graham and thought,
Graham picked up one of the telephones on his desk and dialed a single number.
“Security chief, please,” he said, then looked at Frade and added, “Sit there, Colonel, and don’t say one goddamn word.”
“This is Graham. There are two MP vehicles from Fort Hunt in front of the building. Go out there and find whoever’s in charge and bring him up here.”
He hung up the phone.
He turned to Frade and said, “Continue to sit there with your mouth shut, Colonel. I have no interest in hearing anything you might be tempted to say.”
He waited ten seconds, then said, “The proper Marine officer’s response to that, Colonel, is ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ And for the moment at least, you are still a serving officer in the Corps.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
An MP captain, this one festooned with all the proper MP accoutrements, came into the office three minutes later. He saluted.
“Captain,” Graham said, almost cordially, “I’ll see to it that the prisoners get back to Fort Hunt. I can see no need for you to wait around here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all, Captain,” Graham said. “You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain left and closed the door.
“That’s all, Colonel Frade,” Graham said. “You are dismissed.”
Clete stood, and, remembering what Graham had said about Naval custom proscribing the exchange of hand salutes indoors unless under arms, didn’t.
He met Graham’s eyes for a moment, then marched toward the door.
“Clete,” Graham called.
Frade turned.
“You were right, Clete. Wild Bill will throw one of his famous Irish fits when he hears about this, but that’ll be the end of it. We both know too much, and he is fully aware that we do.”
“I hope that’s the case, sir.”
“Please present my compliments to Kapitan Boltitz and Major von Wachtstein. And my best regards to Dona Dorotea.”
“I’ll do that, sir. Thank you.”
“Maybe we’ll see one another one day. Strange things happen in this business we’re in. Belay that.
“
“The reason Donovan’s parking spot was so conveniently open for you is that he’s over in the Pentagon begging General Marshall not to shut down the OSS this afternoon.”
“But if they shut down the OSS right now, what about . . .”
“All the ongoing projects? Several of which you’re running?”
“Yes, sir.”
