The Honor of Spies

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

  "Before I get them in here, I want to make it clear that I don't want Moller to know that the wine expert is anything but a wine expert, or that I put him--he's using the name Fischer; his real name is Frogger--together with Kortig."

  "That's presuming your man knows Kortig, right?" Peralta asked.

  "What if your man, the one you trust, knows Kortig as a goddamn Nazi?" Nowicki asked.

  "That's a possibility," Frade admitted. "If that happens, I'll turn both Moller and Kortig over to you and Rodriguez."

  "Clete, you better make sure they understand that was a joke," Madison R. Sawyer III said. It was the first time he'd opened his mouth.

  Frade met Sawyer's eyes. "It wasn't a joke, Captain Sawyer."

  "But they have their wives and children . . ."

  "Nothing will happen to the wives and children."

  "Jesus Christ, Clete!"

  "Enrico, go get Kortig. And, Stein, you go get Fischer."

  "Clete, I can't believe you're serious," Sawyer said.

  "I have heard your comments, Captain Sawyer. Don't question any decision I make, or order I give, ever again."

  Sawyer looked at him incredulously.

  "The answer I anticipate, Captain, is, 'Yes, sir. I understand, sir.' "

  After a long moment, Sawyer exhaled audibly, then said, "Yes, sir. I understand, sir."

  Fischer came into the bar first.

  He looked curious but not concerned.

  "Gentlemen, this is Senor Fischer," Clete said, "who came all the way from South Africa to help us improve our grapes."

  The handshaking took about a minute.

  "A little grape for the grape expert?" Clete asked, holding up a bottle.

  "I could use one," Fischer said. "I have had a hard day."

  Rodriguez led Kortig into the room a minute later.

  Neither German could conceal his surprise.

  "Ach, du lieber Gott!" Fischer said softly.

  "Willi," Kortig said, "we heard you were captured in North Africa!"

  "I gather introductions are not necessary," Clete said.

  Both Germans turned to look at Frade.

  "Colonel Frogger, I presume you are prepared to vouch for Colonel Niedermeyer?"

  "Absolutely! Absolutely!"

  "And you would say that Colonel Niedermeyer knows that Valkyrie means more than some oversexed woman on a horse?"

  "Major Frade," Niedermeyer said, "Colonel Frogger has been part of Valkyrie from the beginning."

  "Sorry, Nowicki," Frade said. "It doesn't look as if you're going to get to shoot him."

  Peralta chuckled.

  "From this moment, Captain Sawyer," Clete said, "while he has the freedom of the compound, I want someone watching Moller twenty-four hours a day. If he tries to escape, kill him. And tell him if his wife tries to escape, we'll kill both of them."

  "Yes, sir," Sawyer said.

  XV

  [ONE]

  Calle Talcahuano 207

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  1020 4 October 1943

  When SS-Brigadefuhrer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg had telephoned the German Embassy almost immediately after stepping ashore from the motor vessel Ciudad de Cadiz in Buenos Aires, he asked for "Commercial Counselor" Cranz.

  "One moment, please, Senor."

  A moment later, a voice announced somewhat arrogantly: "Herr Cranz is not available."

  "With whom have I the pleasure of speaking?"

  "This is Assistant Commercial Counselor Raschner."

  "He's not available, Raschner, or he can't be troubled talking to ordinary people?" von Deitzberg snapped.

  "Who is this?" Raschner had asked. Most of the arrogance was gone from his voice, telling von Deitzberg that Raschner had recognized his voice.

  Von Deitzberg hadn't deigned to reply directly.

  "I need to talk to you, and Cranz, somewhere where we won't be seen together, without the ambassador knowing, and right now. Do not use my name or rank when you reply."

  There was only a moment's delay.

  "At the rear of the Colon Opera House, Mein Herr, is the Cafe Colon. We can be there in thirty minutes, if that is satisfactory, Mein Herr."

  "Weren't you listening when I said, 'somewhere where we won't be seen together'?"

  "What I respectfully suggest, Mein Herr, is that when you see me come into the Cafe Colon and then leave, you leave yourself and follow me to a place where no one will see us together."

  "Thirty minutes, Raschner," von Deitzberg said, and hung up.

  It took nearly that long for von Deitzberg to find a taxi and then be driven to the Cafe Colon.

  He had just been served a cafe con crema--which came with a little cup full of solid lumps of real cream, and a little spoon, which triggered the thoughts that Buenos Aires was really a beautiful city--indeed "The Paris of South America," as they said--and that the Colon Opera House was larger than the opera houses in Berlin, Paris, and Vienna; and that in 1939 Argentina was said to have the largest gold reserves in the world; and that all things considered--such as that Berlin was already half destroyed and the rest would certainly soon be--Buenos Aires was a pretty nice place in which to live--when Raschner walked through the door. He looked around the cafe long enough to spot and be spotted by von Deitzberg and then turned and left.

  Von Deitzberg decided that appreciatively drinking his cafe con crema was more important than jumping up to join Raschner, and did so.

  When he finally left the Cafe Colon, he saw Raschner standing near the corner but did not at first see Cranz. His temper flared until he spotted him standing on the corner of the street diagonally across from Raschner.

  When he started to walk toward Raschner, Raschner crossed the street, walked toward Cranz and then past him, taking a gravel walk that ran diagonally through a small park.

  Von Deitzberg saw that Cranz was now bringing up the rear. Raschner crossed another street and then entered the lobby of a building near the corner. As von Deitzberg approached the door, he saw that the Argentine version of a concierge was holding open an elevator door, obviously waiting for von Deitzberg. When he got on the elevator and turned, he saw that Cranz was about to get on.

  Not a word or a look of recognition was exchanged as the elevator rode slowly upward, nor as Raschner opened it and stepped out to put a key into one of the two doors opening on the elevator landing.

  Von Deitzberg and Cranz followed Raschner into the apartment.

  Raschner popped to attention, his right arm shot out, and he barked "Heil Hitler!" After a moment, Cranz repeated the gesture.

  Von Deitzberg returned the greeting casually without the "Heil Hitler!"

  "What is this place?" he asked.

  "It is the former Frogger apartment, Herr Brigadefuhrer," Cranz said.

  "The name I am using is Jorge Schenck," von Deitzberg said. "Use that only, please."

  "Jawohl, Herr Schenck," both Cranz and Raschner said, almost in unison.

  "Senor Schenck," von Deitzberg corrected them.

  "Jawohl, Senor Schenck," they said, together.

  "I want to talk about those swine," von Deitzberg said. "But right now, I want a cup of coffee, with cream. And some sweet rolls. The voyage from Montevideo was tiring; I hardly slept, and my breakfast was inadequate."

  "There's a cafe around the corner," Cranz said. "Actually, there's a cafe around every corner in Buenos Aires. But this one, the Cafe Flora, delivers."

  "And the telephone is still operable?"

  Cranz nodded.

  "Then get on it, and have this Cafe Flora bring us some coffee with cream, real cream; make sure they bring enough, and some sweet rolls. Lots of both--what we have to discuss may take some time."

  "Raschner," Cranz ordered, and pointed toward a telephone on the table.

  "Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer," von Deitzberg said icily. "I told you to get on the phone."

  Cranz's face flushed, but he walked quickly toward the telephone.

  "The number i
s on the first page of that little phone book, Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer," Raschner said, helpfully.

  "So, Erich," von Deitzberg said. "What can you tell me about the Froggers?"

  "So what you are telling me," von Deitzberg said, "is that the Froggers may be on Frade's estancia or they may be in the foothills of the Andes, on another of Frade's estancias--no one knows for sure?"

  "Oberst Schmidt is working on an idea to see if they are in Mendoza," Raschner said.

  "And how close is Oberst Schmidt to putting his idea into play?" von Deitzberg asked.

  As Cranz opened his mouth, von Deitzberg went on: "Well, let me tell you why I am so interested in the Froggers: I am, of course, determined to comply with my orders from Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler to eradicate them wherever and whenever found.

  "But there is more to it than that. One of the things I did in Montevideo was to shut down the confidential fund operation. I can tell you now that the Reichsfuhrer never knew anything about it.

  "Both of you know the Reichsfuhrer well enough to guess how he would react to learning that some of his closest subordinates were involved. . . ."

  "Jesus Christ!" Raschner blurted. "Himmler didn't know?"

  "Do you think he will find out?" Cranz asked.

  "One of the ways to make that less likely is to comply with his orders that the Froggers be eliminated," von Deitzberg said. "Wouldn't you agree? Wouldn't you say that should be our highest priority?"

  "Von Tresmarck!" Raschner said. "That queer sonofabitch has to go! And that whore of a wife of his! She has to know a lot about the confidential fund."

  "If you will do me the courtesy of hearing me out, Erich, I was about to get to the von Tresmarcks."

  "Sorry."

  "If von Tresmarck were to be eliminated, our colleagues in Germany would wonder why that was necessary under the circumstances. They would also wonder what was going to happen to their share of their assets in the confidential fund. . . ."

  The doorbell rang.

  "Ah, that must be our Kaffee mit schlagobers!" von Deitzberg said. "Be so good as to answer the door, Erich."

  "I was thinking just before," von Deitzberg said as he set his coffee cup down, "in the Cafe Colon, when I had one of these, that it will probably be a very long time before Kaffee mit schlagobers is again available in Demel in Vienna. There might not even be a Demel in Vienna after the war. Or, for that matter, a Vienna--or a Berlin--that any of us would recognize."

  He picked up and took a healthy bite from a jelly-filled roll sprinkled with confectioners' sugar.

  "Or one of these," he said. He paused. "Except, of course, here in Argentina." He took another bite of the roll, and when he had finished swallowing, said, "Erich, a moment before, you referred to Frau von Tresmarck as a whore."

  "Isn't she?" Raschner replied.

  "There are some things about her you didn't need to know. Until now. Were either of you aware that she is the widow of a distinguished brother officer of ours?"

  He looked between them and, after both had shaken their heads, he said, "Obersturmbannfuhrer Erich Kolbermann, of the Waffen-SS, gave his life for the Fatherland in the east, shortly before von Paulus surrendered the Sixth Army at Stalingrad. You were not aware of this?"

  Again, both shook their heads.

  Like schoolboys, he thought, who don't have any idea how to spell "potassium."

  "Well, we didn't take advertisements in the newspapers, for obvious reasons, to remind people of this, but shortly after the death of her husband, the then Frau Kolbermann came to work for the Sicherheitsdienst. She mined the bars at the Hotel Adlon, the Hotel Am Zoo, and elsewhere, for matters of interest to us. She was quite good at it.

  "And then when Obergruppenfuhrer Heydrich--I presume both of you know it was Reinhardt Heydrich's idea that the confidential fund be set up--"

  This time Cranz nodded, and Raschner said, "I always thought it was Reichsfuhrer Himmler."

  "It was Heydrich," von Deitzberg said. "And he gave me the responsibility of administering the program. We eventually realized we needed someone trustworthy to handle things in Uruguay. The obergruppenfuhrer thought that von Tresmarck was a likely choice; he was intelligent, he spoke Spanish, and he didn't want to go to Sachsenhausen wearing a pink triangle.

  "But who was to watch von Tresmarck? The obergruppenfuhrer was familiar with Frau Kolbermann's work for the Sicherheitsdienst and suggested that it might be appropriate duty for her. Von Tresmarck needed a wife--we didn't want his sexual proclivities drawing attention to him--and who could better remind him of that than a 'wife' he knew was working for the Sicherheitsdienst? She could also keep an eye on the ambassador, on Hauptsturmfuhrer Forster, and, frankly, on the people in the embassy here."

  He paused, chuckled, and said, "I'm sure you will be delighted to hear that Frau von Tresmarck had only flattering things to tell me about your performance of duty."

  He paused again, then went on: "So when I came here this time, I naturally went to Montevideo and looked up Frau von Tresmarck. Before I told her the confidential fund operation was to be shut down, I received her report on how it was going.

  "She told me two interesting things: first, that von Tresmarck had a gentleman friend, a Uruguayan, and second, that at the recommendation of this friend, he had begun to invest the confidential fund's money in Paraguay. He--they--were then in fact in Paraguay doing just that. Von Tresmarck was under orders not to leave Uruguay without my specific permission.

  "That was, of course, all the justification I needed to eliminate him, and his gentleman friend, and assume responsibility for the fund myself--I'll get into that in a moment.

  "But then I realized that once our associates in the Fatherland heard about this, they would be worrying about their share of the fund's assets. And the more people who talked about the fund, especially in my absence, the greater the chance the talk would come to the attention of Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler.

  "But what if, I asked myself, what if von Tresmarck and his gentleman friend disappeared, a la the Froggers, taking with them just about all of the fund's assets?

  "That would nip in the bud any questions about their share of the fund's assets on the part of our associates. The assets would have disappeared. They would know that I was hot on the trail of von Tresmarck to get them back. That would be the best they could hope for under the circumstances."

  "You have taken care of von Tresmarck, Herr Brigadefuhrer?" Cranz asked.

  "If you use my rank again, Cranz, or my name, I will be obliged to decide that you are unreliable and will have to be 'taken care of,' " von Deitzberg said.

  "I sincerely apologize, Senor Schenck," Cranz said.

  "To answer your question: Von Tresmarck, his gentleman friend, and about two hundred fifty thousand pounds sterling have disappeared. I wouldn't be surprised if they were in Paraguay. When I have time I will look into that. It is highly unlikely that either will ever return to Montevideo--or, frankly, that I will find them when I eventually go looking for them.

  "I have assumed control of the former confidential fund and its assets. . . ."

  "Excuse me, Senor Schenck," Raschner interrupted. "'Former confidential fund'?"

  "It is now 'Operation Adler,' " von Deitzberg said. "The purpose of which is to provide a safe nest for SS officers here in South America should--God forbid!--the Final Victory not come as we all hope it will, and we have to protect our brother officers from the savage revenge of the godless Communists."

  "You're going to tell them about this?" Cranz asked.

  "I don't think so, Karl," von Deitzberg said. "They're all very busy defending the Fatherland. For example, according to the radio station in Montevideo, the SS was deeply involved in destroying the port and railroad facilities of Naples to deny their use to the American Fifth Army, which moved into the city on second October."

  "And we are going to use the assets of Operation Adler for the benefit of our brother officers?" Cranz asked.

  "Precisely," vo
n Deitzberg said. "If that becomes necessary, and presuming that they can get out of Germany and make their way here. I've been thinking that it would only be fair if we were paid a compensation--say, twenty-five percent of all assets--for our management services. What we are going to do is essentially a smaller version of Operation Phoenix. Strictly for the SS."

  "Twenty-five percent seems reasonable to me," Cranz agreed.

  "May I ask questions, Senor Schenck?" Raschner asked.

  "Of course, Erich."

  "When will you be returning to the Fatherland?"

  "Well, I just don't know. The Fuhrer--among other tasks he has assigned to me--wants to be sure that all parts of Operation Phoenix are in place. I can see where that will take a good deal of time.

  "As will locating and eliminating the Froggers--which, as I'm sure you will agree, now is even more important, as those swine know much too much about the former confidential fund.

  "And then there is the problem of destroying these new aircraft, which is compounded by the fact that I don't know where they are, what they look like, or have even seen a picture of one of them."

  "They're actually quite impressive aircraft," Cranz said. "Von Wachtstein managed to arrange a tour through his mother-in-law, and he told me--"

  "Ah, yes, Baron von Wachtstein," von Deitzberg interrupted. "The lucky fellow doesn't have to worry about what happens to him after the war, does he? As soon as he gets out of the POW cage, he just comes 'home' to his wife's Argentine estancia."

  "That thought has occurred to me," Cranz said.

  "You were saying, Karl?"

  "The aircraft, which von Wachtstein says are magnificent . . ."

  "I wonder if that language falls into the category of defeatism," von Deitzberg asked.

  "I'd say it was a professional judgment," Cranz said. "Ambassador von Lutzenberger told him to find out as much as he could about the airplanes."

  "Where did you say they are?"

  "They're based outside Buenos Aires, on an airfield near Moron that Frade built and then named after the late Oberst Frade. They're under the guard of what I've come to think of as 'Frade's Private Army.' They're all former soldiers of the Oberst's cavalry regiment."