“Yes, sir. I’ll tell General Donovan you said that, when I tell him you told me the ACofS G-2 told you that the OSS is going to be dissolved and that you and he are agreed that it should be folded into Army Intelligence.” Frade paused, then gave in to temptation: “With the help of the Los Angeles Project, and maybe even the New Orleans Project.”
Flowers took a moment to take control of himself.
“The war is about over, Colonel Frade. We’ll all eventually go home. But when you get off the ship, or the airplane, or whatever returns you to the Zone of the Interior, you will be in handcuffs, on your way to a general court-martial and the Army prison at Fort Leavenworth!”
“Maybe I can get General Donovan to represent me at the court-martial. I understand he’s a pretty good lawyer.”
Flowers wordlessly turned and marched out of the office, slamming the door after him.
Frade was still looking thoughtfully at the door—
“The diplomats are arriving,
“Whatever happened to ‘Don Cletus,’ Enrico?”
“The diplomats are arriving, Don Cletus,
“Now, in German. If you don’t get it right, you can’t go.”
Enrico got it right.
“Well, I guess you get to go.”
[TWO]
General Martin, Chief Pilot Delgano, and Master Sergeant Stein were all at the Executive Suite windows with Leica C-II 35mm cameras and snapping pictures of the diplomats climbing the stairs to the
“Anybody interesting?” Clete asked as he looked down at the tarmac.
“One man,” Martin said. “Rodolfo Nulder.”
“Who is he?” Frade asked.
“He was at the military academy with el Coronel and el Coronel Peron, and later at the Kriegsschule with your father,” Enrico announced, and matter-of-factly added: “Then he was cashiered for being a pervert and a liar.”
“What was that all about?” Clete asked.
“Young girls on the estancia,” Enrico said.
“Your father told el Coronel Peron that he never wanted to hear the name Rodolfo Nulder spoken again, and told el Coronel Peron that if Nulder ever put foot on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo again he would kill him.”
“Bernardo?” Frade asked.
“I think Rodriguez summed it up pretty well,” Martin said dryly.
Frade thought:
Martin added: “El Senor Nulder is now the director of security at the Secretariat of Labor and Retirement Plans.”
“And this lying pervert is going to Germany with the diplomats why?” Frade said.
Martin shrugged. “I have no idea, but that may be why they were so late getting here. They didn’t want anyone to see Nulder getting on the airplane, so they waited until it was dark.”
“And you have no idea why this sterling character is going to Germany?” Frade pursued.
Martin shook his head. “Not long ago, over drinks at the officers’ casino at Campo de Mayo, I had a chat with el Coronel Sanchez of General Ramirez’s staff. He just happened to mention that he’d had a conversation with
“You were told to back off?” Clete asked more than a little incredulously.
Martin repeated: “I was told that it was General Ramirez who had mentioned he hoped I wasn’t wasting my time and assets on the Secretariat of Labor and Retirement Plans.”
“You never happened to mention that to me.”
Martin smiled. “I like you, Cletus. And I love my wife. But there are some things I never mention to either one of you.”
“Taking pictures of this guy is backing off?” Clete said.
“Don Cletus Frade, master of the indelicate observation,” Martin said with a smile.
“And I don’t suppose you would be heartbroken if we kept an eye on him for you while we’re over there, would you?”
“You know I’m always interested in anything you have to tell me.”
“If this guy went to the Kriegsschule with my father . . .”
“He probably knows a good number of senior German officers,” Martin finished for him. “Some of whom might wish to come here now that their services are no longer required.”
“So this whole thing is an excuse to bring a planeload of Nazis here?” Clete wondered aloud.
“
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,
Martin said: “One thought that occurred to me is that if there was an important Nazi—or Nazis, plural—who wished to spare themselves a long and hazardous trip on a submarine to come here . . .”
“They could come in the comfort that SAA offers to all its passengers?” Clete finished for him.
“It’s a thought,” Martin said.
“Bernardo, did you hear the rumor that Hitler did not kill himself and his wife, but was flown out of Berlin in a Fieseler Storch?”
“Delgano mentioned that he’d heard that,” Martin said. “Do you believe it?”
“No, I don’t. But this thought of yours makes sense.”
“Are you going to try to see General Gehlen while you’re in Germany?” Martin asked, and then, before Clete could answer, went on: “Maybe he would have some thoughts on all this.”
“No one seems to know where he is, but I’m going to try to find him.”
“To what end?”
“I’ll play that card when someone deals it,” Clete said. “We made a deal with him. Nobody’s told me the deal is off.”
“Bring him here?”
“If that’s the only option to keep him out of the hands of the Russians.”
“He’d have a Vatican passport?”
“The others traveled that way.”
“Clete,” Delgano said, “Peralta just showed up; looks like he’s headed here.”
Captain Mario Peralta was a member of the second crew. If he had had any questions about First Officers von Wachtstein and Boltitz replacing the SAA pilots originally scheduled for the flight, Clete hadn’t heard about them. That suggested to Clete that Peralta was taking his orders from Gonzalo Delgano both as an SAA pilot and as somebody else who also worked covertly for Martin.
