The Honor of Spies

And Frade had thought that they had plenty of time for the aerial tour. While there was no question in his mind that Martin would eventually show up at Jorge Frade in response to Schultz's call, he was equally convinced that Martin would not be there when the Cub landed, if for no other reason than to impress on Cletus that the head of the Bureau of Internal Security did not dance to Don Cletus Frade's whistle.

This assumption proved to be wrong.

As he got closer to the passenger terminal building, he saw that el Coronel Martin indeed was waiting for him, and in uniform. Martin was standing beside another uniformed officer, whom Clete recognized after a moment as General Nervo. His military-style uniform was brown. They were standing beside a black 1941 Buick Roadmaster.

"That's General Nervo, Don Cletus," Father Pedro said.

"We've met," Clete replied. "Well, what we'll do now is get you a ride into town."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Clete said at the passenger terminal building.

Martin and then Nervo embraced Clete cordially.

For the moment, I am a good guy. That may change in the next two or three minutes.

"Not a problem," Martin said. "The general and I were here anyway. Your friend had a reservation on the eleven-thirty flight from Montevideo. Santiago had never seen him, and I thought this would give him the chance."

"What did you think?" Clete asked.

"He missed the flight," Martin said. "And changed his reservation until tomorrow."

"This is Father Silva, General," Clete said.

"I know the Father," Nervo said. "And aren't you lucky to have Don Cletus fly you to Buenos Aires, Father? And spare you the return trip with Father Kurt at the wheel?"

Okay. As if I needed proof, Nervo, as well as Martin, knows just about everything that happens on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.

"Yes, it was very kind of Don Cletus," Father Silva said.

"Cletus, in the Gendarmeria," Nervo said, "they say that if Father Kurt wasn't the president's confessor, he would have lost his driving license years ago. Have you ever ridden with him?"

Frade shook his head.

"Don't! He thinks that Packard of his has two speeds, fast and faster. And they know that the more he's had to drink, the faster he drives. The Gendarmes along Route Two call him 'Padre Loco.'"

"Oh, I can't believe that's true!" Father Silva said loyally.

"Would I lie to a priest?" Nervo asked righteously.

Martin took pity on the priest.

"He's pulling your leg, Father," he said. "Can we give you a lift into town? We're headed for Plaza San Martin."

"That would be very kind," Silva said. "I'm going to the cathedral."

"Right on our way," Martin said.

"I need ten, fifteen minutes of your time, maybe a little more," Clete said. "Father, would you mind waiting?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why don't you go in the passenger terminal and have a cup of coffee while the general, the colonel, and I take a little walk?"

They walked across the tarmac toward one of the Constellations, the Ciudad de Buenos Aires. It was being prepared for its flight to Lisbon the next day; mechanics and technicians swarmed all over it.

About halfway, Cletus touched Martin's arm, a signal for him to stop.

Martin looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you going to tell us why you're flying a Jesuit priest around?" Nervo asked.

"Well, he's getting me National Identity booklets for two SS men and their wives and children, and the sooner he can do that, the better."

"Somehow, I don't think that's your odd sense of humor at work," Martin said.

"So that's who was in that Little Sisters of the Poor bus," Nervo said. "What's this all about? Who are these people? Where did they come from?"

I can't--I don't want to, and I can't--play any more games with these two. It is now truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth time.

"They were on the plane from Lisbon," Clete said.

"And you knew about that?" Martin said.

"I knew they were probably going to be on the plane. I didn't know for sure, and I didn't know who they were, until Father Welner brought them to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo."

"Who are they?" Nervo asked.

"One of them is an SS major, the other an SS sergeant major. . . ."

"Traveling as priests, nuns, and orphans on Vatican passports," Nervo said bitterly. "Sonofabitch! I knew something smelled when I saw the Papal Nuncio at the airport!"

"What's this all about, Cletus?" Martin asked.