Secret Honor

by W. E. B Griffin

“I wondered if that was necessary,” Keitel said. “So what are you recommending, Canaris?”

  “I will defer to the Reichsprotektor,” Canaris said.

  “Unless there are objections, I think we should send von Tresmarck and Gradny-Sawz back to South America,” Himmler said.

  “And young von Wachtstein?” Keitel asked. “Why not him?”

  “General Galland wants him assigned to the ME-262 project,” Himmler said. “And knowing Galland, he’s prepared to go to the Führer to get him.”

  “He’s not needed over there for Operation Phoenix?” Bormann asked.

  “He knows very little of Operation Phoenix, Herr Parteileiter,” Cranz said. “From everything Korvettenkapitän Boltitz and I have been able to determine—and from what the Herr Reichsprotektor tells me we have learned in South America—von Wachtstein believes the material they attempted to take ashore was in connection with Admiral Canaris’s plan to repatriate the officers from the Graf Spee.”

  “I think it would be easier to go along with Galland,” Himmler said, “to let him have von Wachtstein, than to open that can of worms with the Führer.”

  “You’re suggesting, Herr Reichsprotektor,” Canaris said, “that if he was needed later, von Wachtstein could be sent back over there?”

  “Yes, that was my thinking.”

  “I have no objection to that,” Canaris said.

  “Nor I,” Feldmarschall Keitel said.

  “And that’s what I’m supposed to report to the Führer?” Bormann asked.

  “I am going to tell the Führer, Martin,” Himmler said, “that in my judgment, and that of Admiral Canaris, Operation Phoenix has not been compromised, and that he no longer has to spend his valuable time thinking about it.”

  “Obersturmbannführer Cranz and Korvettenkapitän Boltitz are also going to South America, presumably?”

  “Only Korvettenkapitän Boltitz, Martin,” Himmler said. “And I’m going to bring Oberführer von Deitzberg back. I need both von Deitzberg and Cranz here, and I have great faith in Boltitz to continue the investigation and institute appropriate security measures in South America. Furthermore, Boltitz will have the services of Sturmbannführer Raschner, who will remain in Argentina.”

  “Then that winds up our business?” Von Ribbentrop asked. It was the first time he’d spoken.

  “I think so,” Himmler said, and looked around the room.

  Keitel got to his feet. “I am pleased, I must say, that we are not going to have to trouble the Führer further with this.”

  He picked up his field marshal’s baton, touched it to his forehead, and walked out of the room.

  “I have film of the Warsaw ghetto,” Himmler said. “If anyone has time to see it—it’s about twenty minutes.”

  No one had the time.

  [FOUR]

  Café Tortoni

  Avenida de Mayo

  Buenos Aires

  1505 25 May 1943

  “I don’t think this will take long,” Coronel Bernardo Martín said to Sargento Manuel Lascano as Lascano stopped the blue 1939 Dodge on Avenida de Mayo in front of the Café Tortoni. “Why don’t you go around the block and park across the street?”

  Lascano nodded his head vigorously to indicate he understood his orders. He was still having trouble following el Coronel’s orders not to say “Sí, Señor”—much less “mi Coronel”—when they were in civilian clothing. He had tried “Sí, Señor Martín,” but Martín hadn’t liked that, either, ordering him not to use his name unless absolutely necessary.

  Martín sensed Lascano’s discomfort and smiled. “Try ‘OK,’ Manuel,” he said. “It’s an Americanism, but it’ll work for us.”

  “Sí, Señor,” Manuel replied, adding, somewhat uncomfortably, “OK.”

  Martín laughed, then stepped out of the car and walked across the wide sidewalk to the café. It was a historical landmark, the gathering place of Argentina’s literati, thespians, and musicians for nearly a century. Photographs—or sometimes oil paintings—or the more famous of these decorated the paneled walls of the large main room, and even hung on the walls of the stairway leading down to the rest rooms.

  Though the place was crowded with patrons of all ages, there was, Martín thought somewhat unkindly, a high percentage of dramatically dressed and coiffured ladies well past their prime, but still with a coterie of admirers.

  He walked slowly through the room until he saw Milton Leibermann, sitting alone at a small table, reading La Nación. “Well, what a pleasant surprise,” Martín said. “May I join you, Milton?”

  “It would be my great pleasure,” Leibermann said, laying the newspaper down.

  Their rendezvous was scheduled; they had decided upon it at the Frade reception at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. That was fortunate, because something had come up that Martín considered—a gut feeling; he could offer no explanation—he should pass on to Leibermann.

  An elderly waiter appeared and took their order for coffee.

  “Anything interesting in the paper?” Martín asked.

  “Actually, there’s a pretty good piece in here—from Reuters, which I suppose will make you think it’s British propaganda—saying that fourteen thousand Jews were killed in the suppression of the uprising in the Warsaw ghetto.”

  “That seems an incredible number,” Martín said.

  “And forty thousand were arrested,” Leibermann went on. “The number of dead and prisoners doesn’t really surprise me, actually, but how long it took the German army to do it does. We hear all these stories about the invincible German army, and here they are, forced out of Africa, and taking six weeks to defeat people armed with only pistols and rifles, most of them without military experience.”

  “It does seem strange, doesn’t it?” Martín said. “Of course, it is of no interest to neutral Argentina.”

  “I understand, of course.”

  The waiter delivered the coffee and placed the bill on a spike on the table. Martín saw that it was the fourth or fifth bill.

  “Did I keep you waiting, Milton?” Martín asked, pointing to the spike.

  “Truth to tell, I came a little early to escape someone in the embassy I didn’t want to talk to.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d give me a name? So that I can avoid him too?”

  Leibermann visibly thought that over. “Colonel Almond,” he said.

  Martín was surprised that Leibermann had given him a name, and that one in particular, but his face did not show it.

  Does he know that I had lunch with Almond?

  Well, let’s see where it goes. I was going to tell him anyhow.

  “Apropos of nothing whatever, does the name ‘Galahad’ mean anything to you, Milton?”

  “Sir Galahad. If he had a first name, I can’t recall it. He’s a character in English folklore,” Leibermann said. “Sir Galahad: the purest of the Knights of the Round Table—are you familiar with these stories, Bernardo, are they part of Castilian culture?”

  “Who alone of Sir Arthur’s knights succeeded in finding the Holy Grail,” Martín said. “I’ll have you know, Milton, I am an Old Boy of St. George’s School. I learned much more of English legend than I really cared to know.”

  “I had no idea,” Leibermann said. “So I’ll bet you know all the words to ‘God Save the King,’ right?”

  “Indeed I do,” Martín said.

  “Why do I think you were not testing my knowledge of English legend?” Leibermann asked.

  “Your Colonel Almond treated me to a very nice luncheon at the American Club,” Martín said. “The name ‘Galahad’ came up.”

  Nothing showed on Leibermann’s face, although Martín was watching closely.

  “Really?”

  “He seems to think it is a code name,” Martín said.
r />   “A code name for whom?”

  “He beat around the bush a good deal; I had to guess most of the time what he was talking about. But I had the feeling that he thinks our friend Don Cletus has someone in the German Embassy who uses ‘Galahad’ as a code name.”

  “Past tense, of course. During the brief period during which Don Cletus was mistakenly suspected of being some kind of intelligence officer?”

  “Present tense,” Martín said.

  “But Bernardo, we both know that Cletus Frade has been discharged from the Marine Corps and is now a pillar of neutral Argentine society.”

  “Of course. I wonder why I keep forgetting that? He’s told me himself on more than one occasion. And he certainly wouldn’t lie about that, would he?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Nevertheless, this is what your friend Almond believes. The way he put it—between intelligence professionals, that is…”

  “Is that what you are, Bernardo? I always wondered how you occupy your time in the Edificio Libertador.”

  “I’m in charge of security,” Martín said. “I thought I told you. Making sure the fire extinguishers work, protecting General San Martín’s sword, that sort of thing.”

  “Are you a descendant of General San Martín, Bernardo?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “That gives you something in common with Don Cletus, doesn’t it? He’s a direct descendant of Pueyrredón, or so I’m told.”

  “I am not going to let you take us off at a tangent, Milton,” Martín said. “Who’s ‘Galahad’?”

  They locked eyes for a moment.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Leibermann said.

  Martín nodded after a moment. “Pity,” he said. “If you had known, and were willing to tell me, I was prepared to share with you the twenty thousand dollars Almond offered me for the name.”

  “That’s a lot of money, twenty thousand dollars,” Leibermann said.

  “Your half would come to ten thousand,” Martín said.

  “Hypothetically speaking, Bernardo: If I knew who this fellow Galahad is, and I told you, and you told Almond, and he gave you the money, what would you do with your ten thousand?”

  “Buy a red Buick convertible.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “You tell me.”

  “You would turn it in.”

  Martín shrugged but didn’t argue.

  “And hypothetically speaking, so would I,” Leibermann said.

  “So he made you the same offer?”

  “He’s never mentioned that name to me.”

  “Maybe because he knows you know the name and won’t tell him,” Martín said.

  Leibermann shrugged but didn’t argue.

  “Galahad now makes me very curious,” Martín said. “I think I should tell you that.”

  “Still speaking hypothetically, Bernardo: If there is such a person, I would be very surprised if he posed any threat to the Argentine republic.”

  “The problem is, Milton, I’m supposed to be the fellow who makes decisions about who is dangerous and who is not.”

  “I’ve found over the years that sometimes you just have to trust your friends, Bernardo.”

  Their eyes met.

  “I could turn that on you, my friend,” Martín said. “And tell you that it is now your turn to trust this friend.”

  “I hope you don’t,” Leibermann said.

  “All right, I won’t. But my curiosity is still very active.”

  “I understand,” Leibermann said. “And I hope you will understand that I hope your curiosity will go unsatisfied.”

  “Why would you hope that? If this man poses no threat to Argentina, why would it matter if I had a name?”

  “Let’s go hypothetical again, Bernardo. If there were such a person, and Cletus Frade were the intelligence officer you mistakenly believe him to be, why wouldn’t his name already be known to Almond?”

  “Because Frade doesn’t entirely trust the OSS?”

  “The what? What’s the OSS?”

  Martín chuckled and shook his head.

  “It could be, if all these hypotheticals were true, that Don Cletus doesn’t trust Almond, or the people he works for, to keep a secret. And that divulgence of that secret to the wrong people—intentionally or inadvertently—would probably see not only Galahad, but many other people, innocent people, killed.”

  Martín looked at Leibermann for a long moment. “Have you heard anything else of interest lately?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Not a thing, I’m afraid. And you?”

  Martín shook his head. Then he stood up.

  “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Milton,” he said.

  “Likewise, Bernardo. Tell me, have you been to the zoo lately?”

  “No, but one of these days I’m going to have to go.”

  He put his hand out to Leibermann, shook it, and walked back through the Café Tortoni to Avenida de Mayo.

  [FIVE]

  The Office of the Foreign Minister

  Berlin

  1410 25 May 1943

  Parteileiter Martin Bormann was the first to arrive, in reply to a telephone call from Foreign Minister von Ribbentrop. “What’s this all about?” he demanded brusquely.

  “Something has come up in connection with Operation Phoenix that requires an immediate decision. From everyone,” von Ribbentrop said, and then, just a shade sarcastically, “Good afternoon, Martin. You’re looking well.”

  “I left an important meeting to come here,” Bormann said. “If I was rude, I apologize. Others are coming?”

  “The Reichsprotektor and Admiral Canaris,” von Ribbentrop said. “Keitel and Dönitz are at Wolfsshanze.”

  “What has come up? Or would you rather wait until the others get here?”

  Von Ribbentrop handed him several sheets of paper. “Would you like a coffee, Martin, while we’re waiting for the others?”

  “Coffee? No,” Bormann replied, then, “This came in two days ago?”

  “It came in ten minutes before I called you. There was some bomb damage to communications, the cryptographic facility. Everything was delayed. You don’t want coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” Bormann said, and resumed reading the message.

  Von Ribbentrop summoned his secretary and asked her to bring him a coffee and to make sure there would be coffee for the others when they arrived.

  “Jawohl, Excellency,” his secretary said, and added: “Excellency, Admiral Canaris called, and said that he cannot make this meeting; he is sending Fregattenkapitän von und zu Waching and Korvettenkapitän Boltitz to represent him.”

  Bormann looked up from the message. “Canaris is obviously smarter than I am. What is this thing, anyway?

  “Once you finish it, Martin, I believe it will all be clear,” von Ribbentrop said.

  Bormann snorted and resumed reading.

  * * *

  CLASSIFICATION: MOST URGENT

  CONFIDENTIALITY: MOST SECRET

  DATE: 22 MAY 1943 1645 BUENOS AIRES TIME

  FROM: AMBASSADOR, BUENOS AIRES

  TO: IMMEDIATE AND PERSONAL ATTENTION OF THE FOREIGN MINISTER OF THE GERMAN REICH

  HEIL HITLER!

  MY DEAR HERR VON RIBBENTROP.

  FOLLOWING IS A REPORT OF AN AUDIENCE WITH THE MINISTER OF LABOR OF THE REPUBLIC OF ARGENTINA, OBERST JUAN DOMINGO PERÓN (PERÓN), HELD AT PERÓN’S INVITATION 22 MAY 1943 IN A PRIVATE DINING ROOM OF THE OFFICERS’ CLUB ON PLAZA SAN MARTÍN. PRESENT WERE THE AMBASSADOR OF THE REICH TO THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC (LUTZEN) AND GENERALMAJOR MANFRED RITTER VON DEITZBERG (DEITZ).

  PERÓN ON 20 MAY 1943 PERSONALLY TELEPHONED LUTZEN AND
DEITZ AND SAID THERE WAS A MATTER OF GREAT PERSONAL IMPORTANCE TO HIM HE WISHED TO DISCUSS WITH US AT LUNCHEON AT OUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE, IN THE HOPE THAT THE GERMAN EMBASSY AND OFFICER CORPS WOULD BE WILLING TO HELP IN THE RESOLUTION OF THE PROBLEM.

  BOTH LUTZEN AND DEITZ, WITHOUT PRIOR CONSULTATION WITH EACH OTHER, IMMEDIATELY ACCEPTED PERÓN’S INVITATION, AND INFORMED PERÓN THEY WOULD BE AVAILABLE AT HIS CONVENIENCE. PERÓN SUGGESTED 1330 HOURS 22 MAY AT THE OFFICERS’ CLUB.

  PERÓN IMMEDIATELY BROUGHT THE PROBLEM TO OUR ATTENTION, BY INFORMING US OF THE PROBLEM, AND WHAT ASSISTANCE HE SOUGHT FROM US IN ITS RESOLUTION.

  SPECIFICALLY, MAJOR HANS-PETER VON WACHTSTEIN (HANS) HAS IMPREGNATED SEÑORITA ALICIA CARZINO-CORMANO (ALICIA). HER CONDITION AT THIS TIME IS KNOWN ONLY TO HER PRIEST, THE REV. KURT WELNER, S.J. (JESUIT), AND PERÓN. ALICIA IS ONE OF TWO DAUGHTERS OF SEÑORA CLAUDIA CARZINOCORMANO (MOTHER).

  HANS IS THE SON OF GENERALLEUTNANT KARL FRIEDRICH VON WACHTSTEIN (OLDWACH) WHO SERVES ON THE STAFF OF THE FUHRER.

  PERÓN TOOK PAINS TO POINT OUT THE CONNECTIONS OF THE PRINCIPALS. MOTHER HAD A TWENTY-YEAR-LONG RELATIONSHIP WITH THE LATE OBERST JORGE GUILLERMO FRADE (OLDFRADE), WHOM PERÓN CONSIDERS TO HAVE BEEN HIS BEST FRIEND, AND WHO LOOKED ON THE GIRLS AS HIS DAUGHTERS, AS, PERÓN SAID, HE NOW DOES. MOTHER’S ELDEST DAUGHTER ISABELA WAS AFFIANCED TO THE LATE HAUPTMANN JORGE ALEJANDRO DUARTE, ARGENTINE ARMY (JORGE), WHO FELL ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE AT STALINGRAD WHILE SERVING AS AN OBSERVER WITH VON PAULUS’S ARMY AND WHOM THE FÜHRER IN THE NAME OF GERMAN REICH POSTHUMOUSLY AWARDED THE KNIGHT’S CROSS OF THE IRON CROSS.

  JORGE WAS THE SON OF SEÑOR HUMBERTO DUARTE (BANKER) AND HIS WIFE BEATRICE (BANKER’S WIFE), WHO IS THE SISTER OF THE LATE OLDFRADE.

  HANS MET ALICIA IN CONNECTION WITH HIS DUTIES IN RETURNING THE REMAINS OF JORGE TO ARGENTINA. PERÓN WAS IN BERLIN AT THE TIME HANS WAS BEING PROPOSED FOR THE MISSION, AND PERÓN’S APPROVAL OF HANS FOR THE DUTY WAS SOUGHT, IF MEMORY SERVES, BY THE HERR FOREIGN MINISTER HIMSELF.

  WITH THE EXCEPTION OF OLDFRADE’S SON, CLETUS HOWELL FRADE (YOUNGFRADE), WHO IS BELIEVED TO BE AN AGENT OF THE AMERICAN OFFICE OF STRATEGIC SERVICES, PERÓN FEELS THE ENTIRE FAMILY IS VERY SYMPATHETIC TO THE GERMAN CAUSE, OR AT THE WORST NEUTRAL. IN PERÓN’S OPINION, ALTHOUGH HE ASSURED US HE WILL DO HIS BEST TO CONTROL YOUNGFRADE, YOUNGFRADE, WHO FEELS AN ANIMOSITY TOWARD HANS, IS CAPABLE OF TURNING PUBLIC OPINION, AND MORE IMPORTANT, THAT OF THE ARGENTINA OFFICER CORPS, AGAINST HANS, AND THUS THE GERMAN OFFICER CORPS AND THE GERMAN CAUSE ONCE HE LEARNS OF ALICIA’S CONDITION, AND THE IDENTITY OF THE FATHER.