Death and Honor полностью

For a moment, Frade thought of ordering Stein to take her purse, but one look at Stein’s face showed that the last thing he wanted to do was snatch a purse from someone—Nazi bitch or not—who looked like a grandmother.

Frade took four quick steps to Frau Frogger and snatched the purse from her hands. He found the zipper, opened it, turned the purse upside down, and started to shake the contents onto the floor.

When he glanced at her, he saw pure hate in her eyes.

Frade looked at the pile of miscellany from a woman’s purse and saw a silver-framed photograph. He bent over and picked it up.

It was of three nice-looking young men, all wearing Wehrmacht uniforms. It was fairly obvious these were the Frogger children. The oldest of them was wearing a large floppy beret, and from some recess of his mind he recalled that German armed forces wore berets. He had no idea what ranks they held—as a matter of fact, he wasn’t even positive that they were all officers.

For an intelligence officer, Frade, you have enormous voids in your professional knowledge.

“Please give that back to me,” Frau Frogger said, not at all belligerently.

He looked at her, resisted the temptation to hand her the photograph, and instead carried it out of the room, knowing he was going only where Rodolfo Gómez had led the man.

The door led to the kitchen. Frogger, carrying two large leather suitcases, was walking across it. Frade motioned for him to stop. He held the photo out to him.

“These are?”

“My childr—our sons.”

“And they are where?”

“Two have been killed in the war. The third is in the United States.”

“In the United States?”

“Wilhelm, this one”—he pointed at the man wearing the oversized floppy beret—“was captured while serving with the Afrikakorps.”

“His name is Wilhelm Frogger?”

Frogger nodded. “Oberstleutnant Wilhelm Frogger.”

“He is young to be a lieutenant colonel,” Frade said.

“If you will excuse me, Herr Oberst, you look young to hold your rank.”

Well, he swallowed that colonel bullshit. Or he’s pretending he did.

Okay, where do I go from here?

Jesus, I wish I had had more time to talk to Milton!

Milton said they deserted because they didn’t want to go back to Germany.

Okay. Let’s go with that.

“Mr. Leibermann tells me that you want to be interned in Brazil.”

“That is correct.”

“I’m the only person who can get you into Brazil, and right now I can see no reason why I should do that.”

Frogger’s eyes widened, but he didn’t reply.

“Actually, Leibermann made a mistake in bringing you to me.”

“We have surrendered,” Frogger said.

“What you have done is desert your post at the embassy and put yourselves into the hands of a man whose father was assassinated on the orders of the German embassy.”

“But we have surrendered,” Frogger repeated. “We wish to be granted political asylum in Brazil.”

“Then you should have gone to the Brazilians. You didn’t.”

“I am prepared to cooperate,” Frogger said.

“Meaning what?”

“I have information which would be of value to you.”

“Information about Operation Phoenix, for example?”

“Excuse me?”

“Operation Phoenix.”

“I don’t know the term. I’m sorry.”

“Then you are either stupid or a liar, probably both. Stupid, certainly, for thinking you could come and expect help to desert your post, with nothing to offer us.”

“I have information . . .”

“But not about Operation Phoenix?”

“I know nothing about any Operation Phoenix.”

“You are lucky you brought your wife with you,” Frade said. “Otherwise, you would already be in an unmarked grave on the pampas. I don’t like to kill women unless I have to.”

“Then simply return us to Buenos Aires.”

“My God, you are stupid, aren’t you? You’ve already seen too much to be allowed to remain alive.”

He gestured with his hands, indicating Frogger should carry the suitcases into the living room. Gómez went next, then Frade followed them in.

“Open them and dump them on the floor,” Frade then ordered coldly.

“Those are our personal possessions!” Frau Frogger complained indignantly.

“Dump them on the floor,” Frade repeated.

When that had been done, he spotted the photo album, went to it, and picked it up. He flipped through it, then tossed it atop the pile of clothing and personal items.

In Spanish, he ordered Gómez to put “these swine” into the house-keeper’s room.

“If they look like they’re even trying to get away, shoot them,” Frade ordered, “put them in a hole in the pampas, pour gasoline on them, then set them afire and leave them for the buzzards.”

“I have information—”

“Shut your mouth, you slimy bastard!”

Staff Sergeant Stein met Frade’s eyes but said nothing.

“You ever watch cop movies, Siggie?” Frade asked when Gómez had led the Froggers away.

Stein nodded. “Sometimes.”