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

"He asked, hopefully," Dorotea said. "Relax, my darling. No, I'm not coming. This is Argentina. Women are not welcome in serious meetings between men. What I'm going to do is give you a few minutes and then go down the back stairs and eavesdrop from the pantry."

"With or without your clothes?"

"Go!"

There were nine men in the library when Clete walked in trailed by Enrico Rodriguez. One of them was Antonio LaValle, who had been el Coronel Jorge Frade's butler and whom Clete had not expected to see; he normally reigned over the staff of the big house on Coronel Diaz.

La Valle--following the English custom, he was called by his surname--was tending bar. Everyone in the library held a drink in his hand.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Clete announced.

He recognized only Coronel Alejandro Martin and Capitan Roberto Lauffer, who was aide-de-camp to El Presidente, General Arturo Rawson. But one of the younger men and a tall, ruddy-faced man wearing the uniform of an infantry colonel looked familiar. He couldn't come up with names, but he remembered now that the younger man was Martin's driver.

I really don't know how to handle this.

I can hug Lauffer. We became close during the Operation Blue coup d'etat.

But what about Martin? Does he want these other people--and who the hell are they?--to think we're pals?

To hell with it!

He went to Lauffer, said "Roberto," and hugged him and made kissing gestures. Then he went to Martin, said "Alejandro, we're going to have to stop meeting like this," and hugged him but did not make a kissing gesture. Then he turned to Martin's driver.

"I'm Cletus Frade," he said, offering his hand. "I know your face, but I can't come up with a name."

"Sargento Lascano, Don Cletus."

"Actually, Major Frade," Martin said, "he is Suboficial Mayor Lascano. Manuel does for me what Enrico did for your father."

"You mean he carries you home when you've been at the bottle?" Clete asked innocently.

The infantry colonel laughed.

"Major Frade has your number, old boy," he said in a crisp British accent.

Martin shook his head and went on: "It is more practical for our purposes to have him known as 'Sargento,' as it is for you to have people think you are simply Don Cletus."

Clete nodded but didn't say anything.

"Similarly, it is more convenient for el Teniente Coronel Jose Cortina, who is my deputy"--a stocky, middle-aged man walked up to Frade and shook his hand--"to be thought of as Suboficial Mayor Cortina."

Then the other stocky, middle-aged man in the library walked up to Frade and offered his hand.

"My name is Nervo, Major. I am a policeman."

"Actually," Martin said, "my good friend Inspector General Santiago Nervo is the chief of the Gendarmeria Nacional."

Another man put out his hand. "I am Subinspector General Pedro Nolasco, Major. General Nervo's deputy."

The infantry colonel brought up the rear of the line.

"Edmundo Wattersly," he said, crushing Clete's hand. "We've met, but I rather doubt you'll remember."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't."

"At your wedding. And of course during your father's funeral. Your dad and I were at the academy together, and then again at the Kreigschule. He used to call me his 'conduit to Berchtesgaden.' "

What the hell does that mean?

Clete nodded, then announced, "We have about half an hour until dinner--"

"We didn't invite ourselves to dinner . . ." Martin interrupted.

"--so may I suggest we get started with whatever this is?" Clete went on.

Martin finished, ". . . but I'm sure we all appreciate your hospitality."

"Dinner will be at nine, Don Cletus," Antonio La Valle said. "I'm afraid it will be simple."

"I'm sure it will be fine, La Valle," Clete said. "And that will be all, thank you. We can make our own drinks."

"Cletus," Wattersly said. "You don't mind me calling you that, do you?"

"Not at all."

"If you don't mind, Cletus, may Antonio stay? I've always found that useful."

"Excuse me?" Frade said.

"Your dad and I formed the habit, when we were planning Operation Blue, of having La Valle and Enrico around. They were our human stenographers, so to speak. Between them, they remember everything, and that way, there's no stenographer's pad left lying about, don't you know, to fall into the wrong hands."

Clete glanced at La Valle and then at Enrico, who nodded.

"Please stay, La Valle," Clete said, then added, "I would very much like a drink."

A moment later, La Valle extended one to him on a small silver tray.

"Gentlemen, if I may?" Martin asked, looked around, and then turned to Frade and began: "The night el Senor von Deitzberg came ashore from U- 405--on September twenty-eighth, three days ago--Nervo, Nolasco, Lauffer, and I met to discuss our options. Among the things decided--since we are agreed on what has to be done--was that we should meet regularly to share information. That first meeting was held yesterday at lunch between Lauffer and Nervo at the Circulo Militar. Lauffer and Nervo concluded that there were two additional people who should be involved, el Coronel Wattersly and yourself.

"I concurred. I got in contact with Edmundo, then I met you when you landed at Jorge Frade today. Let me be frank, Cletus. While el Coronel Wattersly fully agrees that you should be part of this, Inspector General Nervo is more than a little nervous. . . ."

"The question in my mind, Don Cletus," General Nervo said, "is where do your loyalties lie? Are you an Argentine or a Norteamericano?"

Clete met Nervo's eyes for a long moment.

What the hell. When in doubt, tell the truth!

"To tell you the truth, which you probably won't like, General, I'm both. I'm a serving officer of the United States Marine Corps--"

"And the Office of Strategic Services," Nervo interjected.

"--attached to the Office of Strategic Services. I am also legally an Argentine and the son--"

"Of an Argentine hero who was murdered by the Nazis," Wattersly said. "And someone who risked his life--for Argentina--during Operation Blue. That should satisfy you, Santiago."

Nervo grunted, gave Wattersly a dirty look, grunted again, and then said: "Don Cletus warned I probably wouldn't like his answer. I don't. But I like it a hell of a lot more than if he had said--as I expected him to--'Not to worry, I'm an Argentine. Trust me.' " He paused. "Okay. Let's get on with this."

"Let me ask you, Santiago," Martin said. "Do you--and you, Nolasco--believe what I told you of the disgusting operation in which Jews are permitted to buy their relatives freedom from German concentration camps--from German poison gas?"

Both men nodded.

"Cletus, is this man von Deitzberg in charge of that?" Martin asked. "Is that what he's doing here?"

"That's two questions. So far as I know, he's the highest-ranking SS officer involved--and it's an SS operation. I don't know if Himmler is involved. I wouldn't be surprised, but I don't know. As to what von Deitzberg's doing here, I'm sure both Operation Phoenix and the ransoming operation are involved, but there's more, I'm sure. I just don't know what."

"That brings us to Herr von Gradny-Sawz, the first secretary of the German Embassy," Martin said. "He is their liaison man with BIS in regard to the missing Froggers."

"And to the Gendarmeria Nacional," Nervo said. "You have them, Major Frade, right?"

Clete didn't reply.

"More than likely in one of two places," Nervo went on. "Either on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo or--this is my gut feeling--at Estancia Don Guillermo in Mendoza. Specifically at your house--what's it called?--Casa Montagna -- in the mountains . "

That wasn't a question. Not only does he know, but he was giving me the opportunity to lie about it.