The Honor of Spies

by W. E. B. Griffin; William E. Butterworth; IV

  Frade turned to Sister Maria Isabel. "Why don't you give Rodriguez everyone's shoe and other sizes," he said.

  Dorotea was back with a thick wad of currency before Enrico had finished writing down the sizes. She handed it to him, then turned to Welner.

  "Do you think we should send the children down to the stables, Father? Have the grooms put them on a horse?"

  "Dorotea, I think that's a very good idea," Welner said. "Sister?"

  Sister Maria Isabel gave him a dirty look but motioned to one of the nuns.

  "Be careful with them, Sister," she ordered.

  "I'll send one of the girls to go with them," Dorotea said.

  "That probably would be useful, Senora," Sister Maria Isabel said.

  Dorotea went to the kitchen door, pushed it open, and said, "Elisa, I need someone to show Sister and the children the way to the stable."

  One of the maids instantly appeared.

  The nun said in German, "Come with me, children," and they immediately pushed themselves away from the table and walked to where she was waiting at the door.

  Not with reluctance.

  But not with excitement at the prospect of getting a ride on a horse.

  Rather, just because somebody is telling them to; has issued an order.

  And neither mother--I still can't tell which nun/wife belongs to which priest/SS man--has raised any questions, much less objections.

  All of these people--and that includes Sister Maria Isabel and her nuns--are used to obeying, without question, any orders they get.

  [TWO]

  Clete waited until Enrico had followed Sister Maria Encarnacion out of the dining room and closed the door after them.

  Well, let's see if I can get away with this.

  "Actually, this is very simple," Clete began. "But for reasons you will understand, secrecy is of the utmost importance."

  Sister Maria Isabel's face showed she was prepared to disbelieve everything Don Cletus had to say.

  "The Germans have lost the war," Cletus announced. "They know it but won't admit it. We know it and have taken certain steps to make sure things go more easily for the German people when their leaders finally surrender."

  "For the German people, Don Cletus, or the English and the Americans?" Sister Maria Isabel challenged.

  So I'm wrong. This nun asks questions and expects an answer.

  Clete met her eyes.

  "For the German people," he said. "I think you would have to agree, Sister, without me getting into the details, that the Germans--the German leadership--are behaving quite badly."

  "And the Soviets are not?" Sister Maria Isabel challenged.

  "I am not about to defend the godless Communists, Sister," Clete said.

  She looked at him and nodded.

  She did not swallow that whole.

  Well, I never thought I had it in me to become a really good used-car salesman.

  "What Germany is going to need after the war is leaders," Clete went on. "What we are afraid of is that the Nazis realize that those we feel are the ones who should lead Germany after the war are the same people who oppose Hitler. Or whom they suspect oppose him. And we fear that they will be punished--executed--in the last days of the war. The very suspicion that someone does not fully support Hitler or Nazism--"

  "Sister," Welner interrupted. "I know you've been to Rome. Did you perhaps have the chance to see the Ardeatine Caves, near Via Ardeatina?"

  What the hell is this? Frade thought.

  "Yes, I did," the nun said.

  "To support what Don Cletus is saying, Sister, let me repeat what the Papal Nuncio to Portugal told me privately when I was in Lisbon," Welner said. "On March twenty-third, Italian partisans attacked a German formation on the Via Rasella, in the center of Rome. Thirty-three German soldiers were killed.

  "When Hitler heard about this--and mind you, Sister, this is what the Papal Nuncio told me, not English or American propaganda--Hitler lost his temper and ordered that Rome--including Vatican City--be razed to the ground and that the entire population of the city be arrested and taken to Germany."

  Sister Maria Isabel inhaled audibly.

  Clete thought, Is Welner making this up?

  Is Hitler actually that nuts?

  He saw on Schultz's and O'Sullivan's faces that they were asking themselves the same thing.

  No. Jesuits don't lie. They bend the truth a little, but they don't lie.

  He looked at Strubel and Niedermeyer and the wives. Their faces were absolutely inscrutable.

  As if they--all of them, wives, too--have trained themselves not to let their faces show anything.

  "The order was actually issued," Welner went on. "The German commander in Rome--General Albert Kesselring, a Luftwaffe officer who fortunately is a devout Catholic--defied it as well as he could."

  How the hell do you defy an order from Hitler "as well as you can"?

  "I don't think I understand, Father," Sister Maria Isabel said. "'As well as he could'?"

  Neither do I. Thank you, Sister Maria Isabel.

  "What General Kesselring did was order the execution of ten Romans for each German soldier killed."

  Sister Maria Isabel inhaled audibly again, and this time crossed herself.

  "As unspeakable as that sounds, Sister, it was the lesser of two evils. Rome--the Vatican City--was not razed. The Holy Father was not arrested and taken to Germany . . ."

  Would they actually have been crazy enough to do that?

  Well, yeah. If Hitler was crazy enough to order Rome destroyed, why not arrest the Pope?

  ". . . but three hundred thirty-five innocent people, Sister," Welner went on, "were taken to the Ardeatine Cave, each shot in the back of the head, and then the mouth of the cave was dynamited."

  Sister Maria Isabel again crossed herself and sucked in her breath.

  After a moment, Welner went on: "I'm sorry to have interrupted you, Don Cletus, but I thought it was important that Sister Maria Isabel really understand what kind of evil people you're dealing with, and why secrecy is so important."

  She nodded.

  "As I was saying, Sister," Clete continued, "we decided to get these future leaders out of Germany while they're still alive. And their families. The Germans find nothing wrong with punishing--executing--entire families for what they consider the treason of a father, a brother, or a son."

  I know that to be true.

  And the sonsofbitches murdered my father and tried twice to kill me.

  So why does it sound like a lie? Almost as unbelievable as Hitler ordering them to blow up Saint Peter's?

  "And the Church is involved in helping these people, Father?" Sister Maria Isabel asked.

  "Our guests have Vatican passports, Sister," Welner said.

  She nodded.

  I'm not the only liar here, you slick sonofabitch!

  Sister Maria Isabel thinks you just told her the Vatican--maybe even the Pope--knows all about this.

  Of course, you didn't lie. You just told her they have Vatican passports. That's not a lie.

  But you and I know the only reason they have Vatican passports is that you--or maybe some cardinal--made some kind of a deal I haven't been told about with Allen Dulles or Colonel Graham or both to do I don't know what.

  What was it General Nervo said about the Pope moving the larger diamonds from the Vatican's safe to here? "Nuns and Jesuit priests aren't often strip-searched by Customs"?

  "Well," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said, "that explains those airplanes, doesn't it? I wondered what the real story was about them."

  "Well, you'll understand why Cletus couldn't tell you before, Claudia," Welner said.

  God, you are good!

  That wasn't a lie either. It was just making a wholly decent woman believe something that's not true.

  "Of course," Claudia said.

  "And why this can't go any further than this room," Welner pursued.

  "I understand," Claudia said. "Would you and Cletus like me t
o leave, Father?"

  "As far as I'm concerned, Claudia, you're welcome to stay. But that decision is really Cletus's to make; he has the responsibility on his shoulders."

  And again: You really are good!

  What did Nervo say? "Holy Mother Church--and especially Jesuits like Welner--has been in our business much longer than we have and is much better at it than we are."

  What Welner's saying indirectly is: "Since Cletus has the responsibility on his shoulders, that makes me nothing more than a simple priest trying to do God's work.

  "Smuggling people out of Europe and into Argentina is handled by people with dirty hands, like Cletus.

  "Who, although pretty stupid by comparison, is smart enough to know he can't ask you to leave. That would hurt you, piss you off, and he knows he can't do that."

  Well, Clete, it's back to "When in doubt, tell the truth."

  Frade said: "Claudia, I would have preferred not to involve you in this. But the cow seems to have gotten out of the barn. However, if you leave now, everyone in this room will forget you were ever here."

  "Are you telling me to leave?" Claudia challenged, then before he had a chance to reply, went on: "Like your father, you can at times be truly stupid. Of course I'm staying. I want to help."

  "Thank you, Claudia," Father Welner said.

  "You didn't really think I was going to leave, did you?" Claudia asked. "You know me better than that, Father!"

  Frade said: "The fewer people who know about this, Claudia, the better."

  "You didn't have to tell me that," she snapped. "My God!"

  "Sorry," Clete said.

  "So, what happens now?" Claudia asked. "How can I help?"

  "Well, as soon as Sister Whatshername and Enrico get back with the clothes, we're going to fly to Casa Montagna."

  "Sister Maria Encarnacion," Sister Maria Isabel corrected him icily.

  Welner began: "Cletus, I'm certainly not trying to tell you what to do, or how to do it . . ."

  "But?"

  "Wouldn't it be better to wait until after we get your guests' papers in order?" He turned to Claudia and explained, "Father Pedro has an understanding and discreet friend in the Interior Ministry who's going to provide National Identity booklets for Cletus's guests."

  "You better wait until that's done," Claudia agreed, "before you go to Mendoza."

  Was that an order, Claudia? It sure sounded like one.

  Claudia looked at Father Silva. "How long is that going to take, Father Pedro?"

  "About twelve hours after I give my friend the photographs," the priest said. "I have a camera, but I think we should wait until we have the proper clothing."

  "Clete?" Schultz asked.

  He might as well have popped to attention and said, "Sir, permission to speak?"

  Frade motioned for him to go on.

  "What kind of photos do we need, Father?"

  The priest answered by taking a National Identity booklet from his pocket and showed it to him.

  "For women," the priest said, "there is the Libreta Civica. A little smaller, but you get the idea. My friend will provide both."

  "In other words, all that's holding us up is the regular clothes?" Schultz asked.

  "That and the names to go on the documents," Father Welner said.

  "Dorotea," Schultz said, "we can come up with clothes--good enough for ID pictures--for the men. Can you get some clothing for the women and the kids?"

  "Not a problem," Dorotea said.

  "You have any preference for your new names, Strubel?" Frade asked.

  "I think it would be best if we used the Spanish translation of the Christian names," Strubel replied immediately. "And Strubel, if you have no objection, could become Moller, and Niedermeyer, Kortig. Similarly, I would suggest retaining the dates of birth. I am presuming we will all have been born here in Argentina."

  He just didn't pull that out of thin air. He's given it some thought.

  Why not? He's a professional.

  One who probably is looking down his professional nose at this American amateur.

  I'm going to have to stay one step ahead of this guy.

  And why didn't I think of that before?

  "That's fine with me," Clete said.

  "And we'll need a sheet for a background, Dorotea," Schultz said.

  "And when the pictures have been taken," Clete said, "I'll fly Father Pedro to Buenos Aires in one of the Piper Cubs."

  "Is that necessary?" Welner asked.

  "The sooner we get the identifications, the sooner I can get everybody out of here," Frade replied.

  "Yes, of course," Welner agreed. "Father, if Don Cletus flies you to Buenos Aires, when do you think you could have the identity cards ready?"

  "Either late tonight, Father, or first thing in the morning."

  "If you can bring the identity cards and meet me at Jorge Frade at, say, nine o'clock, I'll make a, quote, fuel stop, unquote, in the Lodestar on our way to Mendoza."

  The priest nodded.

  "I'll be there."

  It took less time than Clete thought it would--about forty-five minutes--to complete the photography. Rodriguez and the nun had not returned from their clothes-buying expedition.

  When the last picture had been taken, Clete motioned for O'Sullivan and Schultz to follow him from the temporary studio in the library out into the foyer.

  He closed the door, then asked, "You know how to get in touch with Colonel Martin, right?"

  "I know how to get in touch with his sergeant major, a guy named Jose Cortina."

  "Good enough. Cortina's really a lieutenant colonel," Clete said. "And he's Martin's deputy. Call him and tell him I'm on my way to Jorge Frade and need to see Martin, really need to see him. Ask him to meet me at the airport. And if at all possible, have General Nervo there, too."

  "Cortina's a light colonel?" Schultz asked rhetorically. "Who's General Nervo?"

  "He runs the Gendarmeria Nacional."

  "One of these days you are going to tell me what the hell's going on, right?"

  "Just as soon as I get back from Buenos Aires."

  The door from the library opened and Strubel--now Moller--came out. He was wearing a shirt and trousers Schultz had liberated from Rodriguez's wardrobe. They were much too large for him. Clothespins still in place at the back of the collar and on the rear of the suit jacket made them fit well enough for the camera.

  "May I have a private word with you, Major Frade?" he asked politely.

  "I already told Herr Kortig, Herr Moller, never to use my rank. Please don't do so again. And anything you have to say to me can be said before my men."

  Moller considered that and nodded.

  "Presumably, you have a means to communicate with either Colonel Graham or Herr Dulles?"

  Clete nodded.

  "I have a message that I would like to send to either, for transmission to Colonel Gehlen."

  "We can arrange that," Clete said. "But Gehlen's another name I don't want used here. Any suggestions, Herr Moller?"

  "I never gave that any thought," Moller confessed after a moment.

  "Who's Colonel Gehlen?" Schultz asked.

  "He runs Russian intelligence for the German General Staff; he's Herr Moller's boss. I'll tell you all about that, too, when I get back from Buenos Aires."

  "The first Russian thing that comes to my mind is 'Samovar,'" O'Sullivan offered. "You know, that big tea kettle?"

  "Too close," Clete said. "But there's nothing wrong with 'Teapot.' Make it 'Big Teapot' for Gehlen, 'Teapot' for Herr Moller."

  "And the other one?" O'Sullivan asked.

  "Teacup," Schultz said, smiling.

  "Done," Clete said.

  "Let's have your message, Herr Teapot," Clete said, smiling. "Just as soon as I get back from Buenos Aires, I'll be in touch with Washington; I'll include your message."

  Moller was not amused.

  He handed Clete a sheet of paper on which was written a series of characters in five-characte
r blocks. It looked like gibberish, but Clete immediately recognized it for what it was: an encoded message.

  "Three things, Herr Moller," Frade said coldly. "One, you are not going to send any messages in code to anybody. I don't want you reporting to Big Teapot anything that you or Teacup might hear or see here unless I know what it is. Two, you will give El Jefe your codebook just as soon as you can. Don't even think of trying to either hide or destroy it . . ."

  "This was not my understanding of how things were to be done," Moller said.

  "Three, if I learn that you or anyone else has tried to send a message to anyone without my knowledge, I'll have you shot."

  Moller looked at him with cold eyes but didn't reply.

  "Do we understand each other?" Clete asked.

  Moller nodded. "But there is one thing I think you should understand, Herr Frade: Despite the circumstances, I consider myself and Kortig to be soldiers obeying the orders we have been given. Not traitors."

  "Consider yourself anything you want to," Clete said. "Just as long as you don't endanger in any way anything I'm doing here."

  Again Moller didn't reply.

  "But now you've made me curious," Clete went on. "I don't know what Colonel Gehlen has told you about my . . . friends . . . in the German Embassy, but in any event, you'll soon figure out by yourself that I have people in there. What about them? Are they traitors, in your opinion?"

  "If they swore the same oath of personal allegiance to Adolf Hitler that I did, the answer is self-evident."

  "Then we seem to be agreed to disagree; I consider them to be the opposite: patriots. The bottom line is--"

  "Excuse me? 'The bottom line'?"

  "What matters," said Clete, "is that when you and I have a disagreement, I win. And if you're unwilling to go along with my winning, I'll have you shot. Now, go get the codebook for El Jefe. We'll talk some more later." He motioned to O'Sullivan with his finger. "Go with him, Jerry. Don't let him out of your sight. And don't hesitate to shoot him if you think that's called for."

  "Yes, sir," O'Sullivan said, and motioned for Moller to go back into the library.

  When the door was closed, Schultz said thoughtfully, "You meant that about shooting him. It wasn't a bullshit threat."

  "I don't know how much . . . what name did we give him? . . . Kortig picked up from what was said when Claudia arrived, or how much he'll tell Moller, but we have to assume the worst. And if the choice is between Peter's life and this Nazi sonofabitch's . . ."