W.E.B. Griffin: Victory and Honor

“Is that it?” the President asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have a nice flight, Colonel,” the President of the United States said.

He turned and, sipping his bourbon, walked out of the room.

357 Roonstrasse, Zehlendorf Berlin, Germany 1710 19 July 1945

“They’re in the garden, Colonel,” one of Tiny’s men said when Frade walked into the house.

Clete was afraid to ask just who that meant, and didn’t.

Then he saw Karl Boltitz, Siggie Stein, and Heinrich and Gerhard sitting at a small table. With Graf von Wachtstein.

Hansel’s back!

Thank you, God!

Frade announced: “Okay, everybody up. We have a plane to catch.”

“Says who?” Stein asked.

“Since you asked, says the President of the United States. Our orders are to hide in Argentina from the Secret Service until things settle down a little.”

“Why do I think he’s telling the truth?” von Wachtstein asked.

“Why is it you still have skin?”

“Because I am smarter than anyone thought I am.”

“How did you do in Bremen, Karl?”

“Pretty well, Clete,” Boltitz said. “So far as the subs are concerned, the sooner I get to Argentina the better.”

He looked at the boys, then back at Clete, and asked, “How much time do we have?”

“None. Let’s go.”

The men all stood.

Heinrich and Gerhard remained in their seats, their gazes glued to the table.

“You guys don’t want to go to Argentina and meet Uncle Siggie’s nice nun?” Clete asked.

The boys looked up at each other.

Then Heinrich looked at Clete and said, “Excuse me? We can go?”

“Of course you can go,” Frade said.

“Can you do that, Cletus?” von Wachtstein asked.

“What? Of course I can! I am the world’s greatest expert in smuggling Germans into Argentina. If you don’t believe me, just ask the secretary of the Treasury.”