The Honor of Spies

"Congratulations, Pedro," Nervo said. "Martin trusts you. Go park the car and then join us."

The room in the back of Cafe Dolores was small and crowded. The tables had been pushed together and held a number of telephones.

To take advantage, Nervo decided, of the railway telephone network.

Large maps were pinned to the walls.

There were now ten people in the room. El Coronel Alejandro Martin and "Suboficial Mayor" Jose Cortina--Nervo knew the stocky, middle-aged man to be both a longtime BIS agent and actually a teniente coronel--were seated at the end of the pushed-together tables. Both were in civilian clothing. Lascano had followed Nervo into the room.

A half-dozen other men in civilian clothing were at the table manning the telephones and two typewriters.

And there was someone else whose presence surprised Nervo: a tall, good-looking man in his late twenties who was wearing the uniform of a capitan of cavalry, the de rigueur cavalry officer's mustache, and the heavy golden aiguillettes of an aide-de-camp.

Nervo knew Capitan Roberto Lauffer to be the president's aide-de-camp and more: As with Lascano, the chaos of the coup d'etat had seen Lauffer given responsibilities far beyond those ordinarily given to young captains.

The successful coup had moved General Rawson into the president's office in the Casa Rosada and put Lauffer in the adjacent office, where he had become, again de facto if not de jure, chief of staff to the president.

"People will talk, Alejandro, if it comes out we're meeting like this," Nervo said.

Martin smiled, then chuckled, then, shaking his head, laughed heartily out loud.

"Was it that funny?" Nervo asked.

"Whenever I run into Don Cletus Frade, he offers that same tired joke," Martin said. "Is Nolasco with you?"

"He's parking the car. What the hell is going on here?"

"Why don't you all go have a coffee?" Martin said to the men manning the telephones and the typewriters. They quickly got to their feet and left the room.

Deciding that Martin was going to wait for Nolasco before explaining what was going on, Nervo walked to the wall of maps and studied them. One of them--actually three, patched together--showed the national routes between where they were and San Martin de los Andes. Pins--Probably indicating some sort of checkpoints, Nervo decided--were stuck along the route.

There were maps, of different scales, of the highways leading to Buenos Aires, of the neighborhood of Belgrano in Buenos Aires, and of the area around Samborombon Bay, all stuck with pins.

Nervo turned to look at Martin, his eyebrows raised questioningly. At that moment, Nolasco entered the room. His face registered surprise when he saw Lauffer.

"Subinspector," Lauffer said.

"Capitan."

"I have been rehearsing my little speech about what you are about to hear," Martin said. "And about asking you to give me your word it doesn't leave this room. But I've decided not to ask that of you. You are all going to have to make that decision yourselves. What I've decided to do--as my friend Frade would say--is roll the dice and see what happens. Go ahead, Cortina."

Cortina stood and walked toward the wall. Then he stopped. Lauffer had put his high-crowned uniform cap on the table. He held his riding crop--a standard accoutrement for a cavalry officer.

"May I?" Cortina asked.

Lauffer nodded.

Cortina walked to the map and pointed the riding crop at the map of Samborombon Bay.

"At approximately oh four-thirty today," Cortina began, "the German submarine U-405 began to land, using rubber boats, two German SS officers and ten other ranks of the SS and a large wooden crate onto the beach at this point on Samborombon Bay.

"One of the SS officers we believe to be SS-Brigadefuhrer Manfred von Deitzberg, first deputy adjutant to the Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler. The identity of the other--junior--SS officer we do not know. We believe he is the officer in charge of the detail guarding the wooden crate."

"Is that the same Von Whatsisname who was here before?" Nervo asked. "The German general?"

"Yes," Martin replied, then added: "Santiago, this will go more quickly if you hold your questions until Cortina finishes."

"Okay."

"Waiting for them on the beach were Karl Cranz, ostensibly the commercial attache of the German Embassy, who is an SS-obersturmbannfuhrer; the deputy commercial counselor, Erich Raschner, who is an SS-SD-sturmbannfuhrer; half a dozen Argentinos of German extraction; and a closed Chevrolet two-ton truck that is registered to Senor Gustav Loche, of Buenos Aires, who is the father of Gunther Loche, who is employed by the German Embassy. Father and son were on the beach.