W. IV - Honor Bound 05 - The Honor of Spies

He was wearing a tweed suit that von Gradny-Sawz thought was "cut on the English style" and didn't look much like what came to mind when thinking of someone who was Argentina's senior intelligence--and, for that matter, counterintelligence--officer.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting, el Coronel?"

Martin rose and offered von Gradny-Sawz his hand.

"Actually, I came a bit early. How are you, Mister Secretary?"

"I thought we'd agreed you weren't to call me that?"

"At the time, we agreed you wouldn't call me 'Coronel.' "

"Touche, Alejandro," von Gradny-Sawz said. "Shall I go out and come back in and do it right?"

"Sit down, Anton, and as soon as we decide which of our governments is paying for our lunch, we'll have a look at the wine list."

Von Gradny-Sawz managed to slide onto the opposing bench, and he reached for the red-leather-bound wine list.

"Before we allow the subject to get in the way of our lunch, Anton," Martin said, "I regret that I have been unable to turn up any trace of Senor Frogger. Or Senora Frogger."

"They seem to have simply fallen off the edge of the earth, haven't they?" von Gradny-Sawz said. "But now that we have talked business, diplomatic protocol gives me no choice in the matter. Our luncheon is on the Foreign Ministry of the German Reich."

"I will not argue with diplomatic protocol," Martin said. "And since I know nothing of German wines, I'm happy to bow to your expertise."

"Have you thought of what you would like to eat?"

"They do a marvelous sauerbraten here."

"Yes, they do," von Gradny-Sawz agreed cheerfully. "And that would call for a red." He looked up from the wine list, smiled happily at Martin, and announced, "And here it is!"

He pointed. Martin looked.

"That's Argentine," Martin said.

"Yes, I know," von Gradny-Sawz said. "And since, with all modesty, I am something of an expert on German wines--which range from the tolerable to the undrinkable--I will confess--trusting in your discretion--that I never drink them unless it is my diplomatic duty to do so."

Martin smiled at him but didn't reply.

"Hungarian wines are marvelous," von Gradny-Sawz began, interrupting himself when a waiter appeared. Then, switching to German, he ordered: "Be so good, Herr Ober, as to bring us a bottle of the Don Guillermo Cabernet Sauvignon 1939 if you have it. If not, 1941."

"Jawohl, Exzellenz."

"And then make sure there is another; I suspect it may be necessary."

"Jawohl, Exzellenz."

The waiter bowed and backed away from the table.

"An ethnic German, I would suppose," von Gradny-Sawz said, switching back to Spanish. "What is it they say about converts to Roman Catholicism? 'They become more Papist than the Pope.' I suspect we are being served by a devout follower of the Fuhrer."

Martin chuckled.

"Where was I? Oh. Hungarian wines. They really are wonderful. Something else the Bolsheviks are going to wind up with. Including a vineyard that's been in my family since the Romans."

"That sounds as if you think the Allies are going to win the war," Martin said carefully.

"As a loyal German, I of course have absolute faith in the ultimate Final Victory."

Martin smiled and shook his head. Von Gradny-Sawz smiled back.

"Changing the subject," Martin said, "I know something about that Don Guillermo Cabernet I suspect you don't."

"The initial pressing is by the bare feet of nubile virgins?"

"The 'Don Guillermo' makes reference to Don Guillermo Frade, granduncle of the present owner, Don Cletus Frade. He established the vineyard in Mendoza."

"And now it's in the hands of an American! War is really hell, isn't it, Alejandro?"

"Yes, I think it is," Martin said seriously. "But speaking of the war, may I ask you a question, friend to friend?"

"Certainly."

"What's going on with Mussolini? What was that all about?"

"You saw the story in La Nacion ?"

"And we heard from our embassy in Berlin that the newspapers there reported that after his brilliant rescue he's on his way to see Hitler."

"King Victor Emmanuel had him confined in a ski resort not far from Rome in the Gran Sasso. Lovely place; I often skied there. The Campo Imperatore Hotel. He was in the hands of the Carabinieri. The only way to get to the hotel is by cable car. It was therefore believed his rescue was impossible. Even if his rescuers parachuted onto the mountaintop, or landed there in gliders, which is what they ultimately did, Mussolini could be shot by the Carabinieri rather than waiting for the trial the king planned for him after the Americans take Italy. The king was determined that Il Duce should not be freed to attempt to resume control of the government."

"I saw that the Allies have landed . . ."

"At Anzio," von Gradny-Sawz confirmed. "And Italy has surrendered unconditionally to the Allies. The Wehrmacht is in the process of disarming the Italian army."

The waiter appeared with two bottles of Don Guillermo Cabernet Sauvignon, apologized for not having the 1939, but reported that he had a bottle of both 1938 and 1937, and hoped His Excellency would approve.

They went through the opening, tasting, and pouring ritual.

They ordered sauerbraten mit Kartoffelknodel und sauerkraut .

They raised their glasses.

"To good friends, good food, and good wine," Martin offered.

"In the best of all possible worlds, a Hungarian Bikaver, as red as the blood of a bull, but failing that, this magnificent Don Guillermo," von Gradny-Sawz responded.

They sipped, swallowed, and smiled.

"So what was the purpose of rescuing Il Duce?" Martin asked.

"I'm sure the Fuhrer had his reasons. Our Fuhrer doesn't always explain his decisions, but we are all agreed that he is virtually incapable of making a mistake."

Martin did not reply.

"According to the story our commercial counselor, Senor Cranz, got from some friends of his in Germany," von Gradny-Sawz went on, "what the SS did--and I think this was brilliant--was kidnap a senior Carabinieri officer, a colonel or a general, I didn't get his name. They loaded him on one of the gliders and took him to the hotel. Under a flag of truce, the senior SS officer present--most of the attackers were parachutists, but this was an SS captain named Skorzeny--went to the senior Carabinieri officer and told him he had a choice. Either release Mussolini and no one would be hurt, or shoot Mussolini, whereupon the SS would shoot the Carabinieri colonel and then all the Carabinieri.

"Il Duce was released. Not a shot was fired. A Storch and a pilot were waiting nearby . . ." He waited to see on Martin's face that he knew what a Storch was, then went on: "Then Captain Skorzeny squeezed Il Duce and himself into the plane and flew to Rome."

Martin said: "I thought the Storch--you have one at the embassy, right?"

Von Gradny-Sawz nodded.

"--was a two-place airplane?"

"I wondered about that, too," von Gradny-Sawz said. "But I have found it wise never to question Herr Cranz about any detail of an SS operation."

"I understand," Martin said.

"Herr Cranz was inspired by the kidnapping," von Gradny-Sawz said.

"Excuse me?"

The waiter appeared with their sauerbraten mit Kartoffelknodel und sauerkraut.

"In Germany, you understand, Alejandro, where they don't have your magnificent Argentine beef, the meat sometimes has the consistency of shoe leather. I don't find that a problem. I love the sauce. If I were facing execution, I think I would request for my last meal the Kartoffelknodel and the sauce, hold the sauerbraten. And, of course, a bottle of Bikaver and some hard-crusted bread."

Martin chuckled.

"You were saying something about Senor Cranz being inspired by the ki dnapping?"