The Honor of Spies

"I can see where that would be entirely possible."

"Now, Anton, if we were to do this, we would have to do it in absolute secrecy."

"Yes, of course."

"Cranz and Raschner must never even suspect."

"I understand."

"It happens that I have access to some funds in Uruguay. Enough funds to finance this."

"Really?"

"If I were to get these funds to you, would you know how to set this up?"

"Oh, yes. Frankly, I've been thinking along these lines myself. I have even taken some preliminary steps. There is a delightful area here, in the footsteps of the Andes, around a charming little town, San Carlos de Bariloche, where I am sure we could, with absolute discretion, acquire just the property we would need. It's very much like Bavaria. Should it come to this, of course."

"Well, I think we have to consider that possibility as being very real."

"Yes, I think we do."

"Then the thing for me to do is get to Uruguay as soon as possible. I presume that von Wachtstein still has that Fieseler Storch?"

"May I make a suggestion, Manfred?"

"Certainly."

"Why don't you fly to Montevideo?"

"I was thinking of having von Wachtstein fly me there in the Storch."

"I meant take South American Airways. They have two flights in each direction every day."

"That would mean passing through both Argentine and Uruguayan customs and immigration, would it not? Are these documents you arranged for . . ."

Von Gradny-Sawz nodded and said more than a little smugly, "Jorge Schenck and his wife--they were childless--were killed in an auto crash in 1938. The people I dealt with have removed the reports of their demise from the appropriate registers. That way, the original number of his Document of National Identity became available. Your documents, Senor Schenck, can stand up under any kind of scrutiny."

"You are an amazing man, Anton."

"What I was going to suggest, Manfred, was that you take the SAA flight this afternoon--it leaves at four and takes less than an hour--then spend the night. And when Cranz comes here--and he should be here any minute--you have him order von Wachtstein to fly to Montevideo tomorrow."

"Why should I do that?"

"Because he enjoys diplomatic privilege," von Gradny-Sawz said. "No authority--Argentine or Uruguayan--can ask to see what's inside a package he might be carrying. As either authority might--probably would--demand of Senor Schenck."

"Allow me to repeat, you are an amazing man, Anton," von Deitzberg said, and put out his hand. "I think our collaboration is going to be a success. Not to mention, mutually profitable."

XII

[ONE]

Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade

Moron, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

1700 1 October 1943

"Ladies and gentlemen," Capitan Frade announced over the passenger-cabin speakers, "this is your captain. Welcome to Buenos Aires. The local time is five p.m. and, as you can see, it's raining."

"Ciudad de Rosario," the tower operator's voice came over his headset. "Follow the Follow-Me to the terminal. Be advised there is a band on horseback on the tarmac."

"There's a what?" Frade asked.

There was no reply from the tower. But when he turned Ciudad de Rosario onto the taxiway, there it was--a forty-trooper-strong, horse-mounted military band in dress uniforms getting soaked in the rain.

Frade turned to Capitan Manuel Ramos beside him and said, "Don't let those horses get in the prop wash. It'll be a Chinese fire drill."

Capitan Frade's copilot had no idea what a Chinese fire drill was, but he, too, had been thinking about the effect that the blast of air from the Constellation's four engines was going to have on the band's horses.

"Engineer, shut down Three and Four," Frade ordered.

"Shutting down Three and Four," the engineer replied. "What's going on?"

The Ciudad de Rosario taxied toward the tarmac. The horses didn't like the airplane, the noise it made, or the prop wash that had made its way around the Constellation from its left engines and was blowing the water from the rain-soaked tarmac at them. The tuba player and one of the kettle drummers lost their instruments when their mounts became unruly.

"Ah, ha!" Clete said. "Mystery explained. El Presidente is under one of those umbrellas."

Twenty or more people were under a sea of umbrellas in front of the passenger terminal.

"And so is the Papal Nuncio," Ramos replied.

"I'm going to stop it right here, Manuel," Clete said. "We don't want to drown the president."

"Especially not now," Ramos said.

"Why 'especially not now'?"

"Cletus, El Presidente didn't come out here with the band of the Second Cavalry to welcome us home. He came out to rub Brazil's nose in SAA's mud. We now have a transoceanic airline, and the Brazilians don't."

"If I knew you were so smart, Manuel, I would have let you land."