The Honor of Spies

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

  Inge will be a little surprised, and probably not pleased to hear we're going back to Bariloche. She really got airsick on the way here.

  Too bad. This is all I could ask for, and more.

  We came back to Buenos Aires so that I wouldn't be anywhere near that fool Schmidt when he goes to Mendoza. Better safe than sorry.

  Casanova Peron will be out of Buenos Aires and in no position to do anything about stopping what's going to happen to his beloved godson, Don Cletus, in case he should hear about it--and if he was here, that would possibly, even likely, happen.

  And once Juan Domingo takes possession of Estancia Puesta de Sol--which he will if Evita has anything to say about it, and she will--I'll have him in my pocket. There's no way he could satisfactorily explain how, on his army pay, he came into possession of an estancia worth half a million pesos from a man who died years ago in a car crash.

  "I'll look in the book for the number, darling," Evita said. "And then you can call about the tickets."

  "Can I make anybody another drink?" von Deitzberg asked.

  "Oh, yes, please," Evita said. "It's a celebration, isn't it?"

  XVI

  [ONE]

  Casa Montagna

  Estancia Don Guillermo

  Km 40.4, Provincial Route 60

  Mendoza Province, Argentina

  0430 16 October 1943

  After failing to do so with several gentle nudges, Dona Dorotea Mallin de Frade awakened her husband by jabbing her elbow into his side.

  Startled, he sat up and looked down at her.

  "Why don't you go get Mother Superior?" Dorotea asked.

  "Is something wrong?" Clete asked.

  "No. I just want to start my catechism lessons a little early today. Right after that, I'm going to have a baby. Go get her, goddamn it, Cletus!"

  "Oh, shit!"

  He jumped out of bed, hastily pulled on his trousers, and ran out of the room.

  "You're not needed in here, Cletus," Mother Superior said. "Go find something useful to do. Perhaps you can come back later."

  Don Cletus Frade had been deep in thought as he watched Mother Superior and her crew--Sister Carolina, the huge nun whom Clete thought of as Mother Superior's sergeant major; Sister Monica; and two others whose names he didn't know--start turning his bedroom into what was obviously going to be the delivery room.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I said get out. Go find something useful to do."

  "Like what?"

  "Prayer comes to mind."

  He looked at her for a moment, then left the room.

  What the hell, why not?

  God, if anything bad is going to happen, make it happen to me, not Dorotea or her baby. Our baby.

  Thank you.

  [TWO]

  Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade

  Moron, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

  0835 16 October 1943

  SAA Chief Pilot Gonzalo Delgano stepped outside the passenger terminal and watched SAA Flight 455, one-stop Lodestar service to San Carlos de Bariloche, take off, desperately--and futilely--hoping that a red warning flag would appear on the instrument panel, causing the pilot to return to the field.

  When that didn't happen, he went into his office in the passenger terminal, picked up the telephone, and dialed a number he had been dialing at least once every five minutes since seven o'clock.

  "Extension 7177," a male voice answered.

  "Is he there? Or do you know--"

  "He's here, Major," "Suboficial Mayor" Jose Cortina said. "Hold on."

  Delgano heard, faintly: "It's Delgano, Coronel."

  El Coronel Alejandro Martin came on the line: "What's so important, Gonzalo?"

  "Coronel, von Deitzberg, that blond German woman from Uruguay, el Coronel Juan D. Peron, and some other blond woman by the name of Duarte just took off for Bariloche. I didn't know whether to stop them or not. I tried to--"

  "Peron and von Deitzberg--all of them--were traveling together?" Martin interrupted.

  "Yes, sir. I heard about Peron going when I came in this morning. He called last night and said he needed four seats even if that meant taking somebody off the plane."

  "When's the next flight out there?"

  "At half past one."

  "Hold four seats on that. Six. Cancel the flight."

  "That won't be hard. It may not go anyway."

  "What?"

  "It's undergoing maintenance. They may not be finished in time. If they can't leave at half past one, they get into San Martin de los Andes too late. The runways there are not lit. We're working on it, but . . ."

  "Is there any other way to get there in a hurry?"

  "No, sir."

  "You're going to be at the airport?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Stay there. I'll get back to you."

  [THREE]

  Circulo Militar

  Santa Fe 750

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  0915 16 October 1943

  "I hope this is important," Capitan Roberto Lauffer said as he walked into the private dining room. "My boss is going to wonder where the hell I am."

  "Maybe you'll have the chance to tell him, Bobby," el Coronel Edmundo Wattersly said.

  "We have some problems," Martin said.

  Inspector General Nervo said, "Schmidt has apparently decided to start the civil war we were talking about--"

  "We don't know that, Santiago," Martin interrupted.

  "--with the assistance of Brigadefuhrer von Deitzberg," Nervo went on. "And that of el Coronel Juan D. Peron."

  "I repeat, we don't know that," Martin said.

  "What we do know," Nervo said firmly, "is that Peron and von Deitzberg are at this moment on their way to Bariloche by air. What we do know is that a ten-truck convoy of the 10th Mountain Regiment has departed its barracks in San Martin de los Andes on Route 151 in the direction of General Alvear--which is also in the direction of Mendoza.

  "We also know that on the evening of the fifth of this month, el Coronel Schmidt gave a dinner for von Deitzberg, who is now running around as a dead man named Jorge Schenck, and Senora Schenck, who is almost certainly Frau von Tresmarck, the missing woman from the German Embassy in Uruguay. At this dinner, at which the Nazi flag was displayed, Schmidt toasted Adolf Hitler, and von Deitzberg slash Schenck announced he was going to take pleasure in killing the two traitors from the German Embassy--what's their name, Senor BIS?"

  "Frogger," Martin furnished.

  "Right. Thank you. And especially Don Cletus Frade, who, in addition to having the Froggers hidden at his Estancia Don Guillermo in Mendoza, is known to have ordered the murder of his father because el Coronel Frade was unwilling to betray Argentina and become an agent of international Jewry."

  "Good God!" Wattersly exclaimed.

  "Von Deitzberg actually said that?" Lauffer asked.

  "And el Coronel Schmidt seemed to suggest he had suspected something like that all along," Nervo said. "A few days after this dinner party, von Deitzberg and the blond woman flew back here, then turned right around and went back, now with Peron and his lady friend.

  "The good news is that Juan Domingo's new lady friend is not thirteen years old--I believe she's twenty-four--and el Coronel Peron's sexual perversions apparently will no longer embarrass you gentlemen of the Ejercito Argentino officer corps. She is in fact a, quote, radio actress, unquote, by the name of Eva Duarte, employed by Radio Belgrano."

  "My God!" Wattersly said.

  "That was very entertaining, Santiago," Martin said. "But I'll repeat again that we don't know what Schmidt is actually up to."

  "Did I mention the fact that the Edificio Libertador is having trouble communicating with the 10th Mountain Regiment?" Nervo said. "And that as this little, not-authorized motor march exercise has gone up Route 151--did I mention that's the way to Mendoza?--telephone communication seems to have been lost. My people suspect that's because the wire has not only been cut but has been taken away. Telephone co
mmunication will not be restored until the wire is replaced. Not just spliced."

  "What exactly is it you think Schmidt plans to do in Mendoza?" Wattersly asked. "Rescue those people Frade has there?"

  "I think he plans to lay his hands on the arms cache, which is his excuse for going there in the first place," Martin said.

  "And while he's there, since he's come all that way, maybe kill the Froggers," Nervo said. "And the Frades--did I mention that Frade's wife is very, very pregnant? Maybe they'll just let her go."

  "You're saying Frade will fight Schmidt?" Wattersly asked.

  "Well, Coronel, I'm just a simple policeman. You're the military man. What do you think he'll do?" Nervo said.

  "We're going to have to go to the president," Lauffer said.

  "You're pretty good, are you, Bobby, swimming with your hands tied behind you?" Wattersly asked softly.

  "If it comes to that, sir," Lauffer said, "I guess I'll find out."

  Lauffer walked to a telephone on a side table and dialed a number from memory.

  "This is Capitan Lauffer," he said a moment later. "Put me through to the president, please."

  There was a delay.

  "He's not in his office," Lauffer said. "They're looking for him."

  "Wattersly, you look as if you think we should have put going to the president to a vote," Nervo said.

  "Actually, General, I was thinking that I should have been the one to get on the telephone."

  Everyone looked at Lauffer for a very long ninety seconds, until he suddenly stood straight and spoke into the telephone again.

  "Lauffer, sir. Mi general, something has come up. . . .

  "I'm in the Circulo Militar, sir. . . .

  "Yes, sir. With el General Nervo, el Coronel Wattersly, and . . ."

  There was a brief pause, and then Lauffer said, "Yes, sir. We're in the private dining room at the end of the corridor, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

  He laid the phone in its cradle and turned to the others.

  "The president was having breakfast in the main dining room. He saw everybody arrive. He's coming here."

  Eyebrows were still being raised when el General de Division Arturo Rawson--a good-looking, silver-haired man in his fifties with a precisely trimmed mustache--walked into the room. The president of the Argentine Republic was in uniform.

  Everyone stood up and came to attention, everyone more quickly than Inspector General Nervo.

  "Relax, gentlemen," Rawson said. "Good morning." He smiled at each man individually. "If I didn't know you all so well, I'd think I'd come upon a meeting of conspirators. What's going on?"

  No one replied.

  Finally, Nervo broke the silence.

  "Mi general," he said, "you have a crazy Nazi coronel who is about to start a civil war."

  "And which crazy Nazi coronel would that be, General Nervo?" Wattersly answered for him.

  "Schmidt, Senor Presidente. My cousin, el Coronel Erich Schmidt of the 10th Mountain Division."

  "You agree with General Nervo, Edmundo?" Rawson asked.

  "Yes, sir, I do."

  Rawson looked at Martin.

  "And what does General Obregon think about all this? And where, incidentally, is he? Why is he not here? And why are we all not in the Casa Rosada or the Edificio Libertador?"

  El General de Division Manuel Frederico Obregon was director of the Bureau of Internal Security.

  Martin came to attention.

  "I haven't told General Obregon, Senor Presidente," Martin said.

  "Why not?" Rawson said.

  Nervo answered: "He doesn't swim too well with his hands tied, Senor Presidente. None of us do."

  Rawson glared at him for a moment before softly asking: "And you think that would have happened?"

  "I didn't want to take the chance," Nervo said.

  Rawson exhaled, then looked at Martin.

  "If you had taken the BIS and the promotion to general that went with it, Martin, when I offered it to you, you wouldn't have this problem now, would you?"

  "With respect, sir, that wouldn't have worked," Martin said.

  "I shouldn't be talking to any of you," Rawson said. "General Nervo, you should have taken these frankly incredible suspicions of yours to the interior minister. Martin, you know you should have taken these suspicions to General Obregon--"

  "At this moment, Senor Presidente," Nervo interrupted him, "Schmidt is leading a ten-truck convoy toward Mendoza."

  "Mendoza? What's going on in Mendoza?"

  "Well, for one thing," Nervo said, "the arms cache that the late Coronel Frade established on Estancia Don Guillermo is there. And he wants that. And then I think he wants to watch the execution of Don Cletus Frade."

  " 'The execution of Don Cletus Frade'? Did I hear you correctly, General Nervo?"

  "Yes, sir, you did."

  "That's preposterous! Why would Schmidt want to execute Cletus Frade?"

  "Schmidt won't be the executioner, Senor Presidente. That honor has been reserved for SS-Hauptsturmfuhrer Sepp Schafer. But I think Schmidt would really like to watch."

  "What the hell are you talking about, Nervo?" Rawson snapped.

  "Well, what SS-Brigadefuhrer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg told Schmidt was that Don Cletus had been sentenced to death by a summary court-martial for ordering the execution of his father, who had nobly refused to ally himself with international Jewry."

  "I can't believe my ears. The only von Deitzberg I know is that German general who was here--who came here--to offer the condolences of the German officer corps on the death of Jorge Frade."

  "Same chap, actually," Wattersly said. "But he's not really a German general, but in the SS. He's Himmler's chief adjutant. And this time when he came back here, he came by U-boat--by submarine."

  "By submarine! That's preposterous!"

  "I saw him come ashore at Samborombon Bay, Senor Presidente," Martin said.

  "Why didn't you arrest him?"

  "At the time, I wanted to see what he was up to, sir."

  "And I agreed at the time," Nervo said.

  "And when I learned of this, I agreed with Martin, Senor Presidente," Wattersly said.

  "And so did I, sir," Lauffer said.

  Rawson was silent for a long moment.

  "When I walked in here just now, I jokingly said something to the effect that if I didn't know you all so well, I'd think you're conspirators. It's a damned good thing for you that I do know you all so well; otherwise I would call for the Policia Militar to haul you off to Campo de Mayo for confinement pending court-martial.

  "But what we are going to do now is this: You are going to tell me everything. And I mean everything. I think we'll start with you, Martin, if you please."

  "And Peron and von Deitzberg are now in San Martin de los Andes?" Rawson said fifteen minutes later.

  "They are en route, sir," Martin said. "They and their lady friends."

  "And what are they going to do when they get there?"

  "I have no idea, sir," Martin said. "But I don't think they went there for the trout fishing."

  "Is there some way you can put them under surveillance from the moment their airplane lands?"

  "The Gendarmeria Nacional is taking care of that, Senor Presidente," Nervo said. "And it's not only keeping an eye on Schmidt's convoy but doing its best to slow it down."

  "The Husares de Pueyrredon will take care of slowing el Coronel Schmidt down," Rawson said.

  "Excuse me, Senor Presidente?" Nervo said.

  "Just as soon as I can get to a military phone--" Rawson interrupted himself and turned to Lauffer. "Bobby, call down and have my car ready two minutes ago."

  "Yes, sir," Lauffer said, and picked up the telephone.

  "I'm going to order the Husares to saddle up immediately for Mendoza," Rawson finished.

  He saw what he correctly interpreted to be something close to contempt on Nervo's face.

  "Figuratively speaking, of course, General Nervo. I'm going to ord
er the Husares to immediately begin to move to Mendoza by truck. They have enough trucks to move a troop with their mounts."

  Nervo did not respond, and the look of near contempt remained.

  "That was one of el Coronel Frade's innovations when he had the Husares de Pueyrredon," Rawson said. "He called it his Immediate Reaction Force."

  When there was no response to that either, Rawson said, "Jorge Frade even got airplanes for his regiment. Piper Cubs. Cletus flew me into Buenos Aires in one of them during Operation Blue, and I was able to prevent two regiments from inadvertently engaging each other as they marched on the Casa Rosada."

  Nervo was still silent.

  "General, if you have something on your mind, please say it."

  "You're sure, Senor Presidente?"

  "Consider it an order, General!"

  "When I joined the Gendarmeria, I was advised by a man I respected that I was never going to get anywhere in the Gendarmeria unless I learned to keep my mouth shut and never tell any of my superiors anything they didn't want to hear, or, more importantly, that they were wrong.

  "I followed that advice, and it worked. Here I am, inspector general of the Gendarmeria Nacional. I don't have to worry about getting promoted anymore. What I have to worry about now is keeping stupid bastards like Schmidt from starting a civil war that will destroy Argentina. And, of course, from keeping General Obregon from sending me swimming with my hands tied behind me. . . ."

  "If you have something to say to me, Inspector General, say it!" Rawson said angrily.

  "Well, I'm just a simple policeman, Senor Presidente, but I see several things wrong with you sending the Husares charging down the highway in trucks to Mendoza to roadblock Schmidt and the 10th Mountain Troops."

  "Is that so?"

  "For one thing, the Husares wouldn't know where to find the Mountain Troops. The last word I had from my people who are following them is that they plan to halt for the night near General Alvear.

  "That means in the morning they can do one of two things. They can turn right in San Rafael and take Highway 146 to San Luis, and then Highway 7 to Mendoza."

  "I know the area," General Rawson said thoughtfully.