Blood and Honor

by W. E. B Griffin

  ‘‘Maybe she can tell us something else,’’ Clete said, then looked at his watch again. ‘‘I’ve got to get out of here.’’

  ‘‘There’s plenty of time for you to make your train,’’ Humberto said.

  ‘‘I can’t risk missing it,’’ Clete said. ‘‘We drove here. Can I leave my car in your garage?’’

  ‘‘If you’d like, Cletus, I can have my chauffeur take you to the station. Either in my car, or yours, in which case he could take it to Avenida Coronel Díaz.’’

  ‘‘You use your car to take Peter to his apartment,’’ Clete said. ‘‘Enrico and I will take a taxi.’’

  ‘‘Whichever you prefer,’’ Humberto said.

  ‘‘Thanks, Humberto,’’ Clete said. ‘‘For everything.’’

  Humberto hugged him.

  ‘‘I will pray for your safe return,’’ he said.

  Clete looked at Peter.

  ‘‘What are you going to tell Alicia about—what’s her name? Inge.’’

  ‘‘You sonofabitch!’’ Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein said.

  At the Central Train Station, Clete called Tony from a pay telephone, gave him that number, and ordered him to call him as soon as possible from any other telephone.

  ‘‘And bring paper and a pencil with you. You’re going to have to write down my message.’’

  It took Tony fifteen minutes to call back. By that time four indignant people were lined up to use the pay telephone, and there were only six minutes left to board the train.

  ‘‘Sorry,’’ Tony began. ‘‘I had a hell of a time finding a phone.’’

  ‘‘I want you to send this off to Washington as soon as possible. Can you drive out there tonight?’’

  ‘‘Sure.’’

  ‘‘You ready?’’

  ‘‘Shoot.’’

  ‘‘This goes as Lindbergh.’’

  ‘‘Got it.’’

  ‘‘One. Galahad confirms absolutely Lindbergh exists.’’

  ‘‘No shit?’’

  ‘‘Two. Montevideo operation run by SS Major Werner von Tresmarck, security officer of German Embassy.’’

  ‘‘You’re going to have to spell that for me.’’

  ‘‘Whiskey Easy Roger Nan Easy Roger,’’ Clete spelled quickly. ‘‘You know how to spell ‘von.’ Tango Roger Easy Sugar Mike Able Roger Charley King.’’

  ‘‘Got it.’’

  ‘‘And when you get to the estancia, stay there and make sure Dave doesn’t go anywhere until I get back.’’

  ‘‘Where are you going?’’

  Clete hung up without replying and ran to catch the train.

  When Antonio informed Clete that he ‘‘had been packed,’’ it didn’t enter Clete’s mind to see what had actually gone into his suitcase. Antonio would certainly, he reasoned, include his toilet kit, plus several changes of underwear, a couple of fresh shirts, maybe a spare jacket and trousers, and whatever else necessary for a three- or four-day trip.

  Thus, when he went into his compartment aboard the train, he was a little surprised—and a little amused—to see that Antonio’s idea of clothing for a trip of no more than four days filled two large suitcases. The identical saddle leather suitcases were nearly new. He was not surprised to see a burnished spot on both cases where he could just make out what was left of his father’s initials.

  They had two adjoining compartments in what Clete recognized from movies as the English version of an American Pullman car. He remembered his father telling him that the English had built Argentina’s railroads. He wondered idly if this car was made here from an English pattern or imported.

  When he went into his luggage for his toilet kit, he found a complete riding outfit.

  ‘‘No wonder he needed two suitcases,’’ he mused aloud. ‘‘I wonder where he expects me to wear the riding costume? ’’

  ‘‘Señor Clete,’’ Enrico said. ‘‘I told Antonio to pack that. We are going to the Second Cavalry.’’

  ‘‘We’re going riding at the Second Cavalry?’’ Clete asked.

  My God. If he heard me wonder out loud where I’m going to wear this costume, I must have been speaking in Spanish!

  ‘‘I feel sure the Coronel Commanding will ask you to ride with him as he shows you the regiment. Excuse me, Señor Clete, but I must say this: It would not be fitting for you to accompany him in your Texas Aggie boots.’’

  ‘‘I stand corrected, Suboficial Mayor,’’ Clete said. ‘‘I will even shave in the morning, and close my fly, so I will not embarrass you.’’

  ‘‘In the morning, Señor Clete, it would be best if you put on the appropriate clothing.’’

  ‘‘You mean this?’’

  "Sí, Señor Clete.’’

  XVIII

  [ONE] Bureau of Internal Security Ministry of Defense Edificio Libertador Avenida Paseo Colón Buenos Aires 0930 15 April 1943

  El Teniente Coronel Alejandro Bernardo Martín answered the red security telephone on his desk before it had a chance to ring a second time.

  ‘‘Martín,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Bernardo,’’ the familiar voice of el Almirante Francisco de Montoya said, conversationally, ‘‘just as soon as you have a free minute, would you step in, please?’’

  ‘‘Immediately, mi Almirante.’’

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ Montoya said, and the line went dead.

  Martín was familiar enough with Admiral Montoya to know when the Admiral was deeply upset—despite an outward aura of calm. ‘‘That tone’’ was in Montoya’s voice just now.

  He pulled open the center drawer of his desk and slid into it everything he had been working on, making no attempt to organize it. Then he locked the drawer carefully and left his office.

  ‘‘El Almirante expects you, mi Coronel,’’ Montoya’s secretary said when he entered the outer office. ‘‘Go right in.’’

  Montoya was peering through his Royal Navy binoculars when Martín entered the office. He continued to peer through them for another thirty seconds after Martín politely wished him a good morning.

  Martín understood this action, too. It signaled three messages. First, it reminded the caller that he was a subordinate —seniors kept subordinates waiting. Second, it gave the caller the impression el Almirante was not upset—otherwise he would not be looking out the window. And finally, it gave el Almirante time to consider how he would begin the interchange to follow.

  Martín waited patiently, his hands folded in the small of his back, until el Almirante turned around.

  Montoya looked at Martín for ten seconds and then nodded, as if in approval.

  ‘‘El Presidente of the nation sent for me this morning, Coronel,’’ he announced. ‘‘I have just returned from the Casa Rosada.’’

  Martín didn’t reply.

  ‘‘Presidente Castillo has been informed by a source he considers very reliable,’’ Montoya said, ‘‘that the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos is not dissolving, as he hoped they would, following the tragic death of el Coronel Frade. They are in fact planning the overthrow of his government.’’

  Does that mean what it sounds like—that we have been betrayed—or did Castillo finally wake up? And does Montoya ’s careful choice of words—suggesting this is the first he has heard the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos is planning the coup—mean that he has chosen sides against us?

  ‘‘Mi Almirante, did el Presidente identify the source of his information?’’

  ‘‘Of course not.’’

  ‘‘Do you believe el Presidente’s source to be reliable, mi Almirante?’’

  ‘‘I would think so. Among other things, el Presidente’s source provided him with a complete list of the officers who were at Estancia Santa Catalina over the weekend. According to that source, General Arturo Rawson has replaced el Coronel Frade as President of the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos.’’

  So we do have a traitor in our midst. Or, from Castillo’s perspective, a patriot. And I have no idea at all who it could be. />
  ‘‘I hadn’t heard that, but I am not surprised. I thought it would be either Rawson or General Ramírez.’’

  ‘‘Apparently, you were not able to place anyone at Estancia Santa Catalina?’’

  ‘‘At the estancia, of course,’’ Martín said. ‘‘You will recall that on Monday morning I furnished you with a list of the officers who were at Estancia Santa Catalina. . . .’’

  For precisely this purpose, in case someone else out there was counting noses and making lists.

  ‘‘Fortunately, I was able to present el Presidente with your list. If it wasn’t for that list, I would have looked— we would have looked—more incompetent than otherwise. ’’

  ‘‘I was unable, mi Almirante, to place a source inside the meeting of the G.O.U., if there was such a meeting.’’

  ‘‘Of course there was a meeting. At which Rawson was elected, or appointed, to replace Frade.’’

  ‘‘Appointed by whom, mi Almirante?’’

  ‘‘I was thinking Ramírez.’’

  ‘‘General Ramírez was not at Estancia Santa Catalina over the weekend, mi Almirante.’’

  ‘‘Juan Domingo Perón was. He was almost certainly Ram írez’s proxy.’’

  ‘‘That is a possibility.’’

  ‘‘Putting together all the intelligence you have gathered, Coronel, what is your assessment of the chances that the G.O.U. will succeed if they attempt to depose Presidente Castillo?’’

  ‘‘I think they will succeed, mi Almirante,’’ Martín said.

  Although he looked carefully, Martín could not see any reaction to that on Montoya’s face.

  But if I told him I thought the coup would fail, the next time he opened his mouth he would have ordered me to arrest everybody on the list, and probably Ramírez as well.

  ‘‘And when do you think they will try?’’

  What they did talk about at that damned meeting was when they would execute OUTLINE BLUE. And they didn’t make a decision. The foot draggers triumphed. ‘‘Let’s wait until there is the absolute minimum chance that something will go wrong!’’ It is one thing to talk about, even plan, a coup d’état, and entirely something else to vote to try it. And if whoever among them knew that Rawson was elected president of G.O.U.—and who is that sonofabitch?—he also knew that no date was decided upon. Does Montoya know that?

  ‘‘I can only guess, mi Almirante.’’

  ‘‘Guess.’’

  ‘‘Once the decision was reached to try to overthrow the government, I would think it would take a minimum of two weeks to coordinate everything and issue the execution order. ’’

  ‘‘That quickly?’’

  ‘‘That is my opinion, mi Almirante. It could be longer. Three weeks or a month. Any coup would require that all military and naval bases all over the country be part of the coup, or that they be neutralized.’’

  ‘‘For the sake of argument, Bernardo, let’s say the decision to proceed was made at the Estancia Santa Catalina meeting. You’re saying that the attempt could not be made before’’—he consulted his desk calendar—‘‘the twenty-eighth of this month?’’

  ‘‘At the absolute minimum, mi Almirante. If such a decision was made over the weekend. And I would really think it would take longer than two weeks, which would move any such action into the first week in May.’’

  ‘‘You would stake your professional reputation on that?’’

  ‘‘I stake my professional reputation whenever I present something I know to be a fact. What I just said is an opinion, nothing more.’’

  ‘‘Calling in all your sources, Coronel, could you find out, as a fact, if the decision to attempt to overthrow the government was made at the Estancia Santa Catalina meeting, and if so, when?’’

  ‘‘That’s two questions, mi Almirante. Within, say, three or four days, I should be able to tell you, as a fact, if the decision to go ahead has been made or not. I would have had that information in that time frame in any case. The second question, when, is more difficult. My sources may not be privy to that information. If they are not, it would certainly take more time to obtain it. Presuming it could be obtained at all.’’

  Montoya obviously was not pleased with the reply.

  ‘‘That’s the best you can do?’’

  ‘‘I’m afraid so, mi Almirante.’’

  ‘‘Presidente Castillo won’t be pleased when I tell him that,’’ Montoya said. ‘‘If you had additional funds, would that speed things up?’’

  ‘‘Additional funds probably would.’’

  ‘‘Spend whatever you have to,’’ Montoya said. ‘‘The country is in a crisis. This is no time to economize. But bring back information I can take to el Presidente!’’

  ‘‘Did el Presidente give you any idea how he plans to deal with the situation, mi Almirante?’’

  ‘‘He didn’t discuss that with me, Coronel. Possibly because he believes I am familiar with the penalties the law provides for treason.’’

  ‘‘What I meant to ask, mi Almirante, is whether Presidente Castillo plans to alert the Army—or certain Army officers he believes loyal to him—to the possibility of a coup. Or the Policía Federal.’’

  ‘‘He did not discuss any of that with me,’’ Montoya said. ‘‘But there are a number of officers whose loyalty to el Presidente is beyond question, and I’m sure he has had discussions along these lines with them.’’

  ‘‘If that’s all, mi Almirante?’’

  ‘‘That’s all. I expect to be kept fully abreast of any developments, Bernardo.’’

  "Sí, Señor,’’ Martín said, saluted, and left Montoya’s office.

  [TWO] Office of the Minister of War Edificio Libertador Avenida Paseo Colón Buenos Aires 0950 15 April 1943

  ‘‘The question, Martín, it seems to me,’’ Teniente General Pedro P. Ramírez said, ‘‘is whether Montoya accepted your claim that it would take two weeks to execute OUTLINE BLUE from the time we give the order.’’

  ‘‘I believe he did, Señor,’’ Martín answered.

  The door opened and el Coronel Juan Domingo Perón passed through it, saluted Ramírez, and then stood at attention.

  ‘‘Have a chair, Juan Domingo,’’ Ramírez said. ‘‘You’re probably going to need one.’’

  ‘‘Mi General?’’

  ‘‘Let’s wait until the others arrive, then we won’t have to say everything twice,’’ Ramírez said.

  General Arturo Rawson; his aide, Capitán Roberto Lauffer; and Mayor Pedro V. Querro, Ramírez’s aide, entered the room a moment later.

  "O’Farrell?" Ramírez asked.

  ‘‘General O’Farrell is not in the building, mi General,’’ Querro said.

  ‘‘Then we’ll have to do without him,’’ Ramírez decided aloud. ‘‘El Coronel Martín has just come from el Almirante Montoya. Castillo called Montoya into the Casa Rosada this morning, where he told him: first, that he was disappointed that the G.O.U. did not fold its tent when Jorge Frade was killed; second, that the G.O.U. is planning to depose him; and third, that he knows this because someone at the meeting where Arturo was elected G.O.U. president told him.’’

  ‘‘Who?’’ Perón said.

  ‘‘I have no more idea than you, Coronel Perón,’’ Ram írez said. ‘‘But I suspect an olive branch was concealed in Castillo’s message: we fold our tent, and all is forgiven. Which gives us two options, as I see it. We either fold the G.O.U. tent; or we don’t fold it, which means we issue the Blue Sky message this morning, right now, and carry out OUTLINE BLUE.’’

  ‘‘Do we have time?’’ Perón asked. ‘‘If Castillo had someone at the meeting, and it’s clear that he did . . .’’

  ‘‘Martín believes he has convinced Montoya that it will take at least two weeks to take action from the time we order it.’’

  ‘‘And if Castillo decides to act today?’’ Perón asked. ‘‘For all we know, there may be Policía Federal on their way right now to arrest us.’’

  �
�‘I don’t see where we have any choice but to issue Blue Sky,’’ Rawson said. ‘‘We should have issued it over the weekend.’’

  ‘‘We were seeking unity,’’ Perón said. ‘‘We can’t afford for people to have second thoughts at the last minute.’’

  ‘‘If the order is issued, there won’t be time for anyone to have any second thoughts,’’ Rawson said. ‘‘Unless there is objection from you, mi General, I will order Blue Sky issued.’’

  ‘‘We are never going to be any more ready than we are now,’’ Ramírez said. ‘‘Issue Blue Sky, Mayor Querro.’’

  Ramírez’s diminutive aide came to attention, said, "Sí, Señor,’’ and dialed a number from memory on one of the telephones on the desk.

  ‘‘Querro,’’ he said when someone answered. ‘‘Blue Sky. Blue Sky.’’

  Then he hung up.

  Ramírez looked at his watch.

  ‘‘If things go according to OUTLINE BLUE—and if they do it will be the first time in my military career that anything has gone as planned—in a hundred and twenty hours, this distasteful duty will have been accomplished, Castillo will be gone, and Arturo will be running the country. May God forgive us all if we are doing the wrong thing.’’

  ‘‘Martín,’’ General Rawson asked. ‘‘Where’s that airplane we were talking about?’’

  ‘‘Young Frade went to Corrientes last night on the train. We have made arrangements for him to land it at the airstrip on the Second Cavalry Reservation in Santo Tomé. With a little bit of luck—’’

  ‘‘My experience,’’ General Ramírez interrupted, ‘‘is that it is better not to plan on anything going right. We better proceed on the assumption that if we fail, we will not have an airplane to fly us to Paraguay.’’

  ‘‘Does the General wish to call off the arrangements vis- à-vis the airplane?’’ Martín asked.

  ‘‘That’s not what I said, Coronel. What I said was that we should not count on the airplane. By all means, continue that operation.’’

  ‘‘I have a man in Santo Tomé, mi General,’’ Martín said. ‘‘When he receives the Blue Sky message, he will understand the need for quick action.’’