‘‘Presuming I can leave this building without being arrested, ’’ Rawson said, ‘‘you know where I will be for the next ninety-six hours.’’
‘‘The moment Castillo learns we have all disappeared,’’ Perón said, ‘‘he will know what we’re up to.’’
‘‘With a little bit of that luck Coronel Martín seems to have such faith in, Castillo may decide that the message he gave Montoya has reached us, and that we have decided not only to fold the tent, but to take the precaution of fleeing the country,’’ Ramírez said. ‘‘But in any event, I don’t think he will be looking for Arturo and Lauffer in the Italian Rowing Club in El Tigre.’’
‘‘Unless, mi General,’’ Martín said. ‘‘Unless the person who was there when General Rawson was elected president of the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos was also there when it was decided where General Rawson would go once Blue Sky was issued.’’
Ramírez considered that thoughtfully.
‘‘If Arturo is arrested, that will considerably reduce the number of people who could be betraying us, won’t it?’’ he asked. ‘‘Where did you say O’Farrell was?’’
‘‘I was told he was inspecting the First Infantry Regiment, ’’ Querro said.
‘‘I don’t think Castillo’s source is General O’Farrell," Martín said.
Ramírez shrugged, then asked, ‘‘And where will you be, Coronel Martín, for the next ninety-six hours?’’
‘‘I’ll be in touch by telephone, of course,’’ Martín said. ‘‘I really don’t know where I’m going to be. But I don’t think I’ll be missed.’’
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘It will be presumed I’m out looking for you, mi General, ’’ Martín said. ‘‘May I suggest that we all leave now— you, General Ramírez, fifteen minutes after General Rawson, and you, Coronel Perón, fifteen minutes after that?’’
‘‘And you, Martín?’’ Perón asked.
‘‘I’ll make sure you are all gone before I leave,’’ Martín said. ‘‘If you are arrested, I may be able to have you turned over to me.’’
[THREE] The Office of the Military Attaché The Embassy of the German Reich Avenida Córdoba Buenos Aires, Argentina 1005 15 April 1943
Oberst Karl-Heinz Grüner did not rise to his feet when Standartenführer Josef Goltz walked into his office. He raised his right arm from the elbow in a casual Nazi salute, which Goltz returned as casually.
‘‘Have you a minute for me?’’ Goltz asked.
‘‘Of course. Would you like some coffee?’’
He waved Goltz into a brown leather couch against the wall.
‘‘Thank you,’’ Goltz said. ‘‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I would. I think I’m going to get coffee nerves. I’m still taking advantage of drinking all the coffee I want.’’
‘‘They truck it in from Brazil. It’s not only good, but it’s cheap,’’ Grüner replied. He raised his voice: ‘‘Günther! Would you bring the Herr Standartenführer and me some coffee, please?’’
‘‘Jawohl, Herr Oberst!’’ his driver called from the other office.
‘‘I presume you have heard about the Comerciante del Océano Pacífico, Grüner?’’
‘‘Not officially,’’ Grüner said.
‘‘Excuse me?’’
‘‘When the radio came in, it was classified ‘Most Urgent For Ambassador Only.’ Since the cryptographic officer was at the dentist, I was pressed into service decoding it.’’
Goltz chuckled. ‘‘Herr Oberst, you may now presume you have the Right to Know what you already know.’’
‘‘Thank you, Herr Standartenführer,’’ Grüner said, smiling.
‘‘I would, of course, like her to discharge the cargo we’re interested in as soon as possible after she drops anchor in Samborombón Bay. If that is in six or seven days . . .’’
‘‘I think I can be ready for that. I’ve already done a little preliminary planning,’’ Grüner replied, indicating the papers on his desk. ‘‘There’s one bit of information I’d love to have.’’
‘‘Which is?’’
‘‘In the ideal situation, the Océano Pacífico carries aboard a boat suitable for our purposes.’’
‘‘I’m not sure I understand you. You’re talking about lifeboats?’’
Grüner shook his head, ‘‘no.’’
‘‘She will anchor over the horizon from the shore. The horizon is approximately eleven kilometers. If I were her captain, I would probably at least double that distance, which would mean she will anchor somewhere between twenty and thirty kilometers offshore. The engines in life-boats —where in fact they have engines—propel them at no more than five or six kilometers per hour. That’s a very long voyage from ship to shore. At thirty kilometers offshore, five to six hours.’’
‘‘And acquiring a much faster boat here would pose problems?’’
‘‘I know where I can get a boat,’’ Grüner said. ‘‘In a little town called Magdalena. One capable of about thirty- five kilometers per hour. But we don’t gain much time.’’
‘‘Explain that, please.’’
‘‘For the sake of argument, say the Océano Pacífico is anchored thirty kilometers offshore, the boat would have to put out from Magdalena to the Océano Pacífico.’’
‘‘That would take an hour,’’ Goltz said.
‘‘Presuming the Océano Pacífico was thirty kilometers offshore from Magdalena. She may not be so conveniently anchored. She may be further down in Samborombón Bay. Another twenty-five or thirty kilometers distant.’’
‘‘I see what you mean.’’
‘‘So if I utilize the boat in Magdalena, we have at least an hour’s trip to the Océano Pacífico—probably more. Then a trip of approximately the same length to the place where we will discharge the cargo—which I think you will agree should not be at Magdalena—and then however long it takes to travel from the discharge point to Magdalena. Unless, of course, there are other potential problems.’’
‘‘Which are?’’ Goltz asked, forcing himself to smile. He was torn between impatience at Grüner’s methodical listing of all problems, and admiration for his methodical mind.
‘‘The boat I have available in Magdalena has a captain,’’ Grüner said. ‘‘He would of course know how we have used the boat. He’ll have seen us take the cargo from the Océano Pacífico and land it under suspicious conditions. He might talk, of course.’’
‘‘That could be dealt with, couldn’t it?’’
‘‘Of course, but dealing with the captain might attract attention in itself. And there’s another problem tied in with that: Who will physically unload the cargo at the discharge point?’’
‘‘Seamen from the Océano Pacífico,’’ Goltz said impatiently.
‘‘In that event, they would have to be carried back to the Océano Pacífico before the boat returned to Magdalena.’’
‘‘How would you deal with these problems, Oberst Grüner? ’’
‘‘They would all be solved if there was a suitable boat already aboard the Océano Pacífico. Failing that, I would suggest that we acquire a boat which could be taken aboard the Océano Pacífico—if only temporarily. Then that boat, loaded and crewed by Océano Pacífico seamen, would go directly to the discharge point, unload the cargo into our waiting truck, and return directly to the Océano Pacífico, greatly reducing the chance of interception.’’
‘‘You want to buy the boat in . . . where was it?’’
‘‘Magdalena. But no. I would suggest keeping that in reserve.’’
‘‘You want to buy another boat? Buy another boat.’’
‘‘That raises the question of the captain again. Who would command the boat?’’
‘‘Von Wachtstein,’’ Goltz said. ‘‘If he can navigate an airplane across the River Plate, he certainly should be able to navigate twenty or thirty kilometers in a boat.’’
‘‘He would need a crew.’’
‘‘He can get a crew from the Océano Pacífi
co.’’
‘‘After he initially gets the new boat to the Océano Pac ífico, he could,’’ Grüner said. ‘‘Pursuing that line of thought: We acquire a boat here. In El Tigre. Using a minimum crew—Günther comes immediately to mind— von Wachtstein takes it out to the Pacífico. A crew from the Océano Pacífico then takes von Wachtstein and Günther ashore, and returns the boat to the Océano Pací fico, where it will be taken aboard.’’
‘‘Fine,’’ Goltz said, his patience worn thin. ‘‘Buy the boat.’’
Grüner was not through.
‘‘Then, when you decide the time has come to bring the cargo ashore, the boat in Magdalena will take you out to the Océano Pacífico, and then return—’’
‘‘Why do I have to do that?’’
‘‘I had the impression only you could authorize her captain to release our cargo,’’ Grüner said.
‘‘Correct,’’ Goltz said, just a little embarrassed. ‘‘And then I would come ashore with the cargo to the discharge point, correct?’’
‘‘Right. I will be there, of course,’’ Grüner said. ‘‘And once the cargo is discharged, the boat will return to the Océano Pacífico and be taken aboard for later use in connection with the Graf Spee officers.’’
‘‘Well, that should solve everything, shouldn’t it?’’
‘‘We don’t know if von Wachtstein knows anything about boats,’’ Grüner said. ‘‘And then, of course, there is the problem of funds to purchase a boat. And someone to purchase it. I don’t think it wise for someone connected with the Embassy to buy a boat. There would be questions. ’’
‘‘I’m having dinner with Günther’s father tonight. I will suggest that he purchase the boat. Do you know where you can find one?’’
‘‘I’m sure I can find one in El Tigre,’’ Grüner said.
‘‘How much money will be required? In American dollars or Swiss francs?’’
‘‘In dollars or francs?’’ Grüner asked dubiously.
‘‘In dollars or francs,’’ Goltz said.
Grüner did the necessary arithmetic on a sheet of paper.
‘‘Fifteen thousand dollars,’’ he said. ‘‘In francs . . .’’
‘‘I will give you fifteen thousand dollars this afternoon,’’ Goltz said. ‘‘From my special funds.’’
‘‘Fine.’’
The fifteen thousand dollars was not in fact from any official special fund. It was part of the just over fifty thousand dollars—(in U.S., English, and Swiss currency)—he had brought back from Montevideo. It represented his 60- 40 share of the commission Sturmbannführer Werner von Tresmarck had waiting for him. Before depositing the balance to the Special Fund Reichsprotektor Himmler and Partieleiter Bormann knew about, Von Tresmarck had deducted a 10 percent commission from the money he received from those who wished their relatives to be permitted to immigrate to Uruguay.
Goltz thought it was possible he could be reimbursed from the Special Fund. But even if he couldn’t, it wasn’t a major problem. There would be more money as his share of the commission von Tresmarck was charging.
‘‘I’m relying on you, Oberst Grüner, to take care of all this.’’
‘‘I understand, Herr Standartenführer,’’ Grüner replied. ‘‘When you have the time, I would like your opinion of the preliminary plans I have drawn up concerning the Graf Spee officers.’’
‘‘For the moment, the priority is to transport our special cargo safely ashore. We can deal with the Graf Spee officers afterward.’’
‘‘Of course.’’
[FOUR] Second Cavalry Regiment Reservation Santo Tomé Corrientes Province, Argentina 1145 15 April 1943
As the son of the late el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, Señor Cletus Frade was given the position of honor beside el Coronel Pablo Porterman, Colonel Commanding the Second Cavalry, as they rode out to inspect the landing strip. Coronel Porterman was in a pink and green uniform. A cavalry saber in a sheath was attached to his saddle. His saddle blanket carried gold-thread-embroidered representations of his rank and the regimental crest.
Behind them, alone, rode Capitán Gonzalo Delgano, Air Service, Argentine Army, Retired, who was dressed almost identically to Señor Frade in riding breeches, boots, a tweed jacket, an open-collar shirt with a foulard, and a woolen cap.
Behind Capitán Delgano, Suboficial Mayor Enrico Rodr íguez, Cavalry, Retired, similarly dressed, rode beside Subo ficial Mayor Annarana of the Second Cavalry, who wore a khaki-colored woolen uniform, was also armed with a saber, and who could have been Enrico’s brother.
Though Señor Frade was raised on a West Texas ranch and was once a member of the horse-mounted Corps of Cadets at the Texas Agricultural and Mechanical College, he had never seen so many horses in one place in his life.
Earlier, he had asked Coronel Porterman, a tall, good-looking man who looked uncomfortably like Clete’s father, how many troopers there were. Approximately 1,200, Coronel Porterman told him, and, he added, approximately 1,600 horses, following the Argentine Army standard of 1.3 mounts per officer and trooper.
As they rode out to the landing strip, which was about two miles from the barracks and stables, Clete watched for a time the troopers of the Second Cavalry at their routine training.
Some were doing mounted drill, moving their horses in precise parade-ground maneuvers. Some were going through what looked like an obstacle course for horses, jumping over barriers, and moving the animals through mazes of stakes. Some were actually engaged in saber practice, riding past what looked like blanket-wrapped stakes and taking swipes at them.
They were, Clete decided, magnificent cavalrymen. He wondered if any of them knew that the magnificent cavalry of the Polish Army, with dash, élan, and courage, sabers flashing, had charged the tanks of the German Army and were wiped out in a matter of minutes by machine-gun and cannon fire.
He wondered if they were aware that at that very moment, at some place in the world, tanks were fighting each other, and that horse cavalry as a viable tool of warfare was a thing of the past.
The landing strip was, of course, dirt. At Clete’s suggestion, their little cavalry detail formed a line and rode the length of it six or eight feet apart, looking for holes or rocks that would take out landing gear.
Though there were only a few holes, and no rocks, there were a number of cattle skeletons, some of them posing, in Clete’s judgment, a bona fide threat to aircraft operation.
Coronel Porterman promised to send a troop of his cavalry out that very afternoon to fill the holes, remove the cattle skeletons, and examine the field with greater care.
‘‘You can land here, Señor Frade?’’ Delgano asked. ‘‘More important, can you take off from here?’’
‘‘I don’t see any problem landing or taking off,’’ Clete said. ‘‘The problem will be finding this place at night.’’
‘‘Mi Coronel?’’ Delgano asked.
Coronel Porterman rode up beside them on his magnificent horse, and standing at the threshold of the dirt strip, the three of them discussed where the locating fire would be located—it would burn all night as a beacon—and the precise location of the gasoline-in-sand-in-clay-pots ‘‘run-way lights.’’
Then they rode past the troops of the Second Cavalry, who were practicing using their sabers and bolt-action carbines on enemy cavalry, and back to the barracks and stable area. From there they proceeded to the officers’ mess.
The mess was crowded with the regiment’s officers, and Señor Frade was introduced to each of them as the son of the late el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, onetime Deputy Commander of the Second Cavalry.
Señor Frade was shown the trophy cases, containing silver cups won by his father for one equitational competition or another. These began with his first assignment to Second Cavalry as a Sub-Teniente fresh from the Military Academy, and ended with trophies won during his assignment to the regiment as a Teniente Coronel.
On the wall were framed photographs of a young Tenien
te Frade and his peers, among whom Señor Frade recognized Teniente Juan Domingo Perón and a chubby smiling character who was probably Capitán Arturo Rawson.
El Coronel Porterman led the procession into the dining room, where Señor Frade again was given the position of honor and seated beside Porterman.
The table was elaborately set with silver bearing the regimental crest, and fine china and crystal. There were three glasses for every place, and waiters promptly began to fill glasses with wine.
Clete thought of the ‘‘officers’ mess’’ on Guadalcanal. It consisted of crude plank tables. The tableware was steel mess trays; the ‘‘silver’’ was knives, forks, and spoons from mess kits; and the china was heavy Navy-issue mugs.
An officer appeared and whispered in el Coronel Porterman ’s ear. He rose, excused himself, and left the dining room. A minute or two later, the same officer appeared and whispered in Capitán Delgano’s ear, and he rose and left the dining room.
Then they returned, without explaining why they had left. The five-course luncheon continued for another thirty- five minutes. And then el Coronel Porterman rose to his feet, excused himself again, motioned to Delgano, and turned to Clete.
‘‘Will you come with me, please, Señor Frade?’’
They went to a corner of the bar.
Porterman looked at Delgano as if he wanted him to begin.
‘‘Word has just reached us that makes it very important to have the airplane here as quickly as possible,’’ Delgano said.
Well, that can only mean they’ve ordered the execution of OUTLINE BLUE.
‘‘It will be available to me in Brazil as of noon the day after tomorrow,’’ Clete said.
‘‘There’s no way you can have it any earlier?’’
‘‘I’m not even sure I can get where I have to go by noon of the day after tomorrow,’’ Clete said.
‘‘You have made no plans to reach Pôrto Alegre?’’ Delgano asked, incredulous and annoyed.
‘‘I have to see someone here,’’ Clete said.
‘‘Who?’’
Clete shook his head, ‘‘no.’’
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