The Honor of Spies

That was not true. The housekeeper in the Frade mansion across from the racetrack on Avenida Libertador had--and only reluctantly--told him only that el Coronel Peron no longer lived in the mansion and that she had no idea where he had moved.

It had cost Raschner two days of effort and several hundred pesos to get the address, which came with the information that he was sharing his new quarters with his fourteen-year-old "niece."

"That woman has a big mouth," Peron said unpleasantly.

"Mi coronel, I have to have a few minutes of your time," Cranz said.

"Why?"

"Another special shipment is about to arrive. We need your help."

The news did not seem to please Peron.

"Wait," he ordered curtly. He turned and went back into his apartment and closed the door.

Cranz instantly decided he was going to give Peron three minutes--180 seconds--to reopen the door before he pushed the doorbell. He looked at his wristwatch to start the timing.

One hundred and seventy seconds later, Peron pulled the door open and motioned for Cranz to come into the apartment.

Cranz found himself in a small foyer. Three doors--all closed--led from it. The only furnishing was a small table with a lamp sitting on it, and a squat jar holding two umbrellas.

"Well?" Peron asked.

"We had word from Berlin today--there was a Condor flight--giving the details of a new special shipment," Cranz said. "We need your help again; el Coronel Schmidt and his Mountain Troops."

"The last time I had the Mountain Troops 'help' you, Cranz, at Tandil, it was nearly a disaster. It was a disaster, and it could have been much, much worse."

"You're a soldier, mi coronel. You know as well as I do that things sometimes get out of hand. The SS officer who let things get out of hand at Tandil paid for it with his life."

"I almost paid for his

letting 'things get out of hand' with my life," Peron said.

"It was a very bad situation, mi coronel. We cannot ever let something like that happen again."

"No, we can't. If you came here to suggest that I be anywhere near where the special shipment will be landed, or have anything to do with it, I must disappoint you."

"Mi coronel, it was not my intention--everyone recognizes how important you are to all those things we are trying to do, and that we would be lost without you--to suggest that you go to Samborombon Bay, or that the Mountain Troops go to the beach. We are prepared to handle the landing operation ourselves.

"But what I was hoping is that you would see the wisdom of authorizing another 'road march exercise' for Schmidt's Mountain Troops. In addition to the special shipment, there will be another SS security detachment. An officer and ten other ranks--"

"To be taken to San Martin de los Andes, you mean?"

"And we realize that both you and el Coronel Schmidt have expenses"--Cranz took a business-size envelope from his pocket and extended it to Peron--"which we of course are happy to take care of."

After a moment, Peron took the envelope and glanced inside. It was stuffed with U.S. one-hundred-dollar bills.

There were 250 of them, none of them new. They had come from the currency in the special shipments. The $25,000 in American currency was equivalent to almost 100,000 Argentine pesos, a very substantial amount of money. And American dollars were in demand. German Realm Marks had virtually no value in the international market.

For a moment, Peron appeared to be on the verge of handing the dollar-stuffed envelope back to Cranz.

"You will handle the landing operation itself?" Peron asked. "You can do that?"

"I believe we can, mi coronel. But looking at the worst-case scenario: Even if something went terribly wrong on the beach, this would not involve the Mountain Troops at all. They wouldn't be anywhere near the beach."

Peron considered that for a moment.

Then he slipped the envelope into his right lower tunic pocket. The deal had been struck. The Mountain Troops would take the special shipment and the SS men to San Martin de los Andes.

Cranz wondered how much--if any--of the $25,000 Peron would share with Oberst Schmidt.

Probably none.

"Tell me about the kidnapping planned for Senor Mallin," Peron said. "I should have heard about that; I should not find myself in the position of having to ask."

"Excuse me, mi coronel?"

"I think you heard me, Cranz."

"I don't know a Senor Mallin."

"He is Cletus Frade's father-in-law," Peron said. "And Don Cletus apparently believes that someone is planning to kidnap him."

"Mi coronel," Cranz said after a just-perceptible hesitation, "I know nothing of an attempt to kidnap anyone."

Peron's eyes tightened; it was obvious to Cranz that Peron didn't believe him.

"I give you my word of honor as a German officer, mi coronel."

Peron looked into his eyes for a long moment.

"For lunch today, I went to the Yacht Club," Peron said. "As we drove up, I saw Senor Mallin's car. He drives a Rolls-Royce drop-head coupe--"

"Excuse me, a what?"