The Honor of Spies

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

  It was literally a door bell, a five-inch brass bell hanging on a chain from the roof of the house. A woven leather cord was attached to the clapper.

  When there was again no answer, he turned to the person standing with him, a tall, trim, olive-skinned man in his thirties.

  "Dare I hope not only that my beloved wife is still in Punta del Este, but that the maid has taken advantage of this and given herself the day off?"

  "Your wife's car is not here," the man with him said.

  "Cross your fingers," von Tresmarck said as he took the door key from his pocket.

  He pushed the door open and called, "Maria?"

  There was no answer.

  Von Tresmarck waved the man with him into the house, then closed the door.

  He held up his hand, fingers crossed, and then called, "Inge!"

  When there was no answer, he called again.

  And when there was still no answer, he called loudly, "Inge, you blond slut! Answer me!"

  When there was again no answer, he turned to the man with him and kissed him on each cheek and then on the mouth.

  "Now, let us have a drink," he said. "And then a bath."

  "I'm up here, Werner," Inge von Tresmarck said.

  He looked up and saw her standing in her bathrobe on the landing beside the stairwell.

  "Scheisse!" von Tresmarck muttered.

  "Wait for me in the sitting," Inge said.

  "What?" von Tresmarck asked incredulously. He looked at the man with him.

  "Your wife said to wait for us in the sitting," a male voice then said unpleasantly.

  She's got a man up there? She's never done that before!

  "It would seem your wife has a guest," the man said. He obviously found this amusing.

  Von Tresmarck looked up at the second floor. There was a man--also wearing a bathrobe--standing beside his wife.

  Is that my bathrobe?

  He recognized the man, who was indeed wearing his bathrobe.

  "Oh, my God!"

  "And don't let your friend get away until I have a word with him," the man said.

  "Wernie, who is that man?" the man asked.

  Von Tresmarck grabbed the man's elbow and propelled him into the sitting room.

  "What's going on here, Wernie?" the man quickly asked, his tone now one of concern.

  "Just sit there and be quiet," von Tresmarck ordered. He went to the bookcase, removed four books, put his hand in the space where they had been, and rummaged around.

  "What are you doing?" the man asked.

  "For the love of God, be quiet!"

  When his now frantic search in the space behind the books proved fruitless, von Tresmarck went to the desk and started pulling open drawers.

  "Is this what you're looking for?" SS-Brigadefuhrer Manfred von Deitzberg asked.

  Von Tresmarck looked up. Von Deitzberg was lowering himself onto a small couch. He held von Tresmarck's 9mm Luger P08 pistol in his left hand. Not threateningly; he wasn't holding it by the grip, ready to fire, but in his palm, as if it were a pocket watch or a handful of coins he wished to examine.

  Von Tresmarck did not reply.

  Von Deitzberg turned to the man who was now standing beside von Tresmarck, visibly uncomfortable with the introduction of the pistol.

  "You must be Ramon," von Deitzberg said. "Did you two have a pleasant time in Paraguay, Ramon?"

  "Who are you?" Ramon asked.

  "You may call me senor," von Deitzberg said. "Both of you may call me senor. Answer my question, Ramon!"

  "Tell him," von Tresmarck said softly.

  "We had quite a nice time, thank you," Ramon said.

  "Did Sturmbannfuhrer von Tresmarck tell you that he was under orders not to leave Uruguay--not even to go to Argentina, much less to Paraguay--without specific permission?"

  Inge von Tresmarck came into the sitting room. It was evident to her husband that she was wearing nothing under her bathrobe. She walked to von Deitzberg and sat beside him on the couch.

  She's obviously fucking von Deitzberg.

  Well, why not? She was one of the whores in the Hotel Am Zoo and the Adlon. She'd fuck an elephant to save her skin!

  "No, he didn't."

  Von Tresmarck began: "Herr Brigadefuhrer, I went to Paraguay--"

  With a sudden swift motion, von Deitzberg tossed the pistol from his left hand to his right, grabbed the grip, and fired a round into the bookcase beside von Tresmarck and Ramon.

  The noise in the confined area was deafening, as von Deitzberg knew it would be. He had also fired enough pistols to know that a 9mm bullet would not go far through a line of books on a shelf. And he knew that when most people hear a gunshot, they decide it is the sound of an automobile engine backfiring.

  This time, Inge said, "Scheisse!"

  "I would really prefer not to shoot you, Werner," von Deitzberg said. "But the next time you use my rank or my name, or try to lie to me, I will."

  Everyone--Inge included--was now looking at von Deitzberg with terror in their eyes.

  "And if I have to shoot you, it will be necessary for me to shoot Ramon, too. Many times, especially in the face, so that it will look like a lovers' quarrel, something both the German Embassy and the Uruguayan government will want to quickly cover up."

  He let that sink in.

  "You were about to tell me what you were doing in Paraguay, Werner," he went on finally.

  Von Tresmarck, visibly nervous, launched into an elaborate explanation of the trip, saying that he had grown afraid that questions would be asked about all the property he'd already bought in Uruguay, and that Ramon, a business-man, had suggested that they begin making investments in Paraguay.

  Von Deitzberg let him finish.

  "Ramon," von Deitzberg then said, "I'm afraid that Werner also forgot that he was under orders not to share any detail of the confidential special fund with anyone. You understand, of course, how your acquiring that knowledge has reduced your chances of staying alive?"

  "I have to go to the toilet," Ramon stammered.

  "Certainly," von Deitzberg said. "But hurry back. And don't think of running away. Hauptsturmfuhrer Forster is sitting in his car outside. Werner, tell Ramon who Hauptsturmfuhrer Forster is."

  "He's with the Geheime Staatspolizei," von Tresmarck said.

  "Do you know what the Geheime Staatspolizei is, Ramon?" von Deitzberg asked.

  "Please, I have to go to the toilet right now," Ramon said.

  "The Secret State Police. He is under orders to shoot anyone he sees leaving this house without my permission."

  "I understand," Ramon said. "May I go?"

  "Hurry back," von Deitzberg said.

  Ramon hurriedly--and walking unnaturally--left the sitting room.

  "I wonder if he's going to make it?" von Deitzberg asked rhetorically. "I tend to think not."

  "May I sit down?" von Tresmarck asked.

  "I think that would be a very good idea," von Deitzberg said. "What I think I'm going to do, Werner, is tell you what's going to happen and have you explain it to Ramon."

  Von Tresmarck nodded.

  "The operation is shut down," von Deitzberg began. "There have been reverses in the war, as I'm sure you know, which have resulted in the unexpected transfers of some of the people involved. Others have fallen for the Fatherland. It doesn't really matter why. Intelligent people, Werner, know when to quit.

  "I have been sent here under an assumed identity--by U-boat, incidentally, to give you an idea of how important this is considered--to make sure the shutdown is conducted as efficiently and as quickly as possible. And, of course, to make sure that our investments are secure and will be available if--perhaps I should in honesty say 'when'--they are needed.

  "You are going to have to disappear from Uruguay. There are a number of reasons for this, including the very real possibility that some of the Jews are liable to make trouble when it becomes apparent to them that their relatives are not going to be coming.

 
"It would be best for you to disappear, rather than return to the Fatherland. One of the ways for you to disappear would be to die in tragic if sordid circumstances. As I'm sure you are aware, Werner, it is not uncommon for homosexuals to have a falling-out, resulting in the death of both. And this was before I knew about Ramon.

  "Frankly, that seemed at first to be the simplest solution to the problem. And even more so when I got here and learned that you had confided all the details of the operation not only to Frau von Tresmarck but--"

  "I never told her a thing!" von Tresmarck blurted. "She's a lying whore. . . ."

  Von Deitzberg fired another round from the Luger into the bookcase.

  "Inge, that may have frightened Ramon," von Deitzberg said. "Make sure he doesn't try to do anything foolish."

  Inge jumped quickly to her feet and almost ran out of the sitting room.

  "As I was saying, Werner, removing you permanently from the scene seemed a quite logical and simple solution to the problem, especially after I learned you had told both Frau von Tresmarck and Ramon about the confidential special fund and its assets. That was not only very disloyal of you--after all, I'm the fellow who kept you out of Sachsenhausen by sending you here--but stupid.

  "But another idea had occurred to me when I learned that--like rats leaving a sinking ship--the Froggers had deserted their post in Buenos Aires.

  "I asked myself, What if Werner disappeared? What if he disappeared as soon as he learned I was back in South America? If you hadn't been off with Ramon in Paraguay, I'm sure that someone in Buenos Aires would have told you I was here. And I wondered, What if Werner disappeared, taking all the confidential special fund assets with him?

  "The downside to that would be that when I made that report, there are those who would say--in the presence of the Reichsfuhrer-SS if they could arrange that--that they knew something like that would happen. 'You simply cannot trust a homosexual; they think like women.'

  "The upside to that would be--since you had absconded with them--no confidential special fund assets for me to account for."

  Von Tresmarck looked at von Deitzberg in utter confusion.

  "You take my point, Werner?" von Deitzberg asked.

  "I . . . uh . . . don't think I quite understand, Herr Brig . . . Mein Herr."

  "It took Hauptsturmfuhrer Forster about five seconds to appreciate the benefits of your disappearance in these circumstances: We not only need no longer to transfer large amounts of cash to Germany, but since you and the assets have disappeared, no one will be clamoring for their share of the real estate, et cetera, here. And that's presuming any of them actually manage to get out of Germany and to South America. Are you beginning to understand, Werner?"

  Von Tresmarck nodded.

  "The plan hinges on your disappearance," von Deitzberg said. "And the problem with that . . ."

  "I can be out of here in a matter of hours," von Tresmarck said.

  ". . . is that I no longer trust you. And I should tell you that Forster suggests I am a fool for even considering letting you live. But I find myself doing just that. With the caveat that if I even suspect you are not doing exactly what I tell you to do, or that you again have, so to speak, decided to make decisions for yourself, I will have you and, of course, Ramon killed--then there is a way for you to stay alive."

  "Ramon had a little accident," Inge announced sarcastically from the doorway.

  "Been incontinent, have you, Ramon?" von Deitzberg asked sympathetically. "That sometimes happens to people when they realize they're close to death. Come in and sit down. On the floor. We wouldn't want to soil Frau von Tresmarck's furniture, would we?"

  He waited until Ramon had done so before going on.

  "Now, let me explain what's going to happen: Frau von Tresmarck has been good enough to turn over to me the material in your safe. Including, of course, the unspent funds. The money is already in Buenos Aires, where I will invest it. Now, where are the deeds to whatever you have purchased in Paraguay? If you lie to me, I will shoot Ramon right now to show you how serious I am about this."

  "Ramon has them in his safe," von Tresmarck said. "In his home."

  "And they are in whose name?"

  Von Tresmarck hesitated before replying, "In Ramon's name. We thought of that as an extra precaution . . ."

  "Yes, I'm sure you did," von Deitzberg said. "And how much did you invest in Ramon's name as an extra precaution? How much is it worth in dollars, or pounds?"

  Von Tresmarck exhaled audibly.

  "A little under a million pounds sterling," he said finally. "They use the British pound."

  "How much is a little under a million pounds sterling?"

  "Perhaps it was a little over a million pounds sterling," von Tresmarck said.

  "That's four million American dollars," von Deitzberg said. "Tell me, Werner, do you think you and Ramon could disappear and find happiness together on, say, one million American dollars?"

  "What does he mean, 'disappear'?" Ramon asked.

  "Werner will explain that to you later, Ramon," von Deitzberg said. "What's going to happen now is that you're going to go home--Hauptsturmfuhrer Forster will drive you--and after you change your trousers, you're going to bring all the deeds here.

  "We will then select between us which properties you will sign over to Senor Jorge Schenck--all but, say, two hundred fifty thousand pounds' worth.

  I will then give you ten thousand American dollars for your immediate expenses as you and Werner set forth on your new lives."

  "Who's Senor Jorge Schenck?" von Tresmarck blurted.

  "He's the man who will hunt you down and kill you as slowly and painfully as possible if I ever hear of either of you again," von Deitzberg said. "Get going, Ramon. Not only does the sight of you make me ill, but you're starting to smell badly."

  XIV

  [ONE]

  Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo

  Near Pila

  Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

  1930 2 October 1943

  Inspector General Santiago Nervo and Don Cletus Frade were sitting in wicker chairs on the verandah of the big house. A wicker table between them held bottles of scotch and bourbon.

  Frade was wearing khaki trousers, a polo shirt, and battered Western boots. Nervo was in uniform, save for his tunic, which he had shed before they had gone riding.

  Nervo had expressed interest in the radar, and Clete had really had no choice but to offer to show it to him.

  "It's not far," Frade had said. "I usually ride out there . . ."

  It was a question, and Nervo had picked up on it.

  "Whatever happened to that magnificent stallion of your father's? What was his name?"

  "Julius Caesar. Would you like to ride him out to the radar?"

  "No," Nervo had replied immediately. "I watched him throw your father before God and five thousand spectators at the Rural."

  The Rural Exposition was the Argentine version of an American county or state fair--but a national affair. The bull, sow, stallion, hen, or whatever that earned a blue ribbon became the best of its breed in Argentina.

  "I never heard that story."

  "It was considered impolite--even dangerous--to remind el Coronel that he had landed on his ass in dress uniform before everybody he knew," Nervo said.

  "Every time I get on that big beautiful bastard, he tries to throw me," Clete said. "After, of course, he tries very hard to bite me as I get on him."

  Clete saw in Nervo's eyes that he was going to have to ride Julius Caesar to wipe out the disbelief in the policeman's eyes.

  And he had done so. And had kept his seat without getting bitten.

  They had ridden out to Casa Numero Cincuenta y Dos, where Lieutenant Oscar Schultz, USNR--who of course had driven, not ridden, out there--had proudly shown Nervo how the radar functioned, and introduced the gendarme to the rest of the team.

  And now Nervo and Frade were back at the big house, enjoying what Clete had described to Nervo as the sacred
Texas tradition of "having a little sip to cut the dust of the trail."

  After a short time, there was the sound of a vehicle approaching, and they watched Schultz drive up at the wheel of a Ford Model A pickup truck.

  Nervo gestured toward Schultz, who wore full gaucho regalia.

  "I'm having trouble believing that," Nervo said. "He never rides?"

  "Never," Frade confirmed. "When he was a kid, he went on a pony ride, and when he got off, the pony stepped on his foot. He swore he would never get on anything with four legs again, and he hasn't."

  "Hola, Jefe," Nervo called cheerfully, and waved.

  Then he said: "That isn't the only thing I'm having trouble believing."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Wait until el Jefe 'dismounts,' " Nervo said, and reached for the bottle of scotch. "I want him to hear this."

  Schultz climbed down from the pickup and came onto the verandah. He pulled up a wicker chair, reached for the bourbon, poured himself a steep drink, announced, "In my professional opinion as an officer of the Naval Service, the sun is over the yardarm," took a healthy sip, and then added, "Even down here in Gaucholand."

  Clete chuckled and said, "You better tell General Nervo what you mean."

  "Cletus, please, 'Santiago,' " Nervo said.

  "Me too?" Schultz asked.

  "Of course you too," Nervo said.

  Why do I not think he's not just schmoozing us?

  Why was I not surprised that Nervo and Schultz had immediately taken to each other?

  We're the same kind of people?

  I think deciding to come clean with Nervo and Martin was probably the smartest thing I've done in the last six months.

  "Well, Santiago," Schultz began, "in the old days in the North Atlantic, on sailing ships, at about eleven o'clock in the morning, the sun would rise above the yardarm. That's that horizontal spar"--he demonstrated with his hands--"that's mounted on the mast."

  Nervo nodded his understanding.

  "Which meant," Schultz went on, "that the officers could go to the wardroom and have a little sip to give them the courage to face the rest of the day."

  "Fascinating," Nervo said, chuckling. "May I say something about the way you're dressed, Jefe?"