“Churchill thinks—and he’s probably right—that he’s going to be more trouble than he’s worth. But the President made it clear he would be very unhappy indeed if de Gaulle had any kind of an accident.
“And the third thing decided—the only decision made public—was that we are going to demand the unconditional surrender of Germany, Italy, and Japan. I personally thought that was a bad idea, as there is a chance that if General von Wachtstein and von Stauffenberg succeed in removing Hitler, an armistice could quickly be agreed upon. But that question was decided in Churchill’s favor.
“That’s bad, because it will extend the war, especially insofar as the Japanese are concerned. The Italians, if there weren’t so many German troops in Italy, would surrender tomorrow morning. The Germans will hang on as long as possible, but ultimately, they will surrender unconditionally.
“And what
“I hope so.”
“The moment the Germans surrender, our ambassador will call upon the Argentine foreign minister, present him with a detailed list of all German property in Argentina—which you will have prepared, to include bank account numbers, descriptions of real estate, et cetera—and inform him that we’re taking possession of it.
“The Argentine government may not like it, but it’s a well-established principle of international law, and it really would be unwise of them to defy that law. I rather doubt they will. Nations, like people, tend to try to curry favor with whoever has just won a fight.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“That your only comment?”
“What I’m thinking is that I’m in way over my head. Why don’t they send somebody to Argentina who has experience and knows what he’s doing?”
“Ask yourself that,” Dulles said.
“Because he wouldn’t have my contacts.”
“And because he would be more carefully watched than you are.”
“They’re watching me pretty carefully right now, as a matter of fact.”
“What have you done to cause that?”
“They suspect I had something to do with the disappearance of the commercial attaché of the German embassy and his wife. On the way up here, Delgano, who is ostensibly my chief pilot but who is—and he knows I know—a BIS agent, said he wouldn’t be surprised if I had them in my suitcase.”
“I don’t quite understand. You had something to do—”
“They showed up at Milton Leibermann’s door and said they wanted to ‘surrender’—”
“And Leibermann is?”
“The FBI guy in Buenos Aires.”
“The FBI chap in Berne seems to think I am invisible,” Dulles said.
“Leibermann is a good guy. We work well together. Anyway, he brought them out to the estancia, and we’re hiding them until somebody tells me what to do with them.”
“On your estancia?”
“On another one I’d never heard of ten days ago. They’re safe.”
“And Leibermann has reported this to the ambassador? And/or the FBI?”
Frade shook his head.
“Why did they . . . ‘surrender’?”
“They wanted Leibermann to get them to Brazil so they could be interned. Leibermann thinks, and I agree, that they were afraid to go back to Germany because von Deitzberg or Cranz—Frogger’s replacement, actually an SS-OBERSTURMBANNFÜHRER—HAVE not been able to identify von Wachtstein as the spy and are going to hang it on Frogger.”
“This man’s name is Frogger?”
“Wilhelm Frogger. His son and namesake—he had three sons; two got themselves killed—is an oberstleutnant who got himself captured with the Afrikakorps. He’s now in a POW camp in the States.”
“They’ve probably got him in Camp Clinton,” Dulles said, almost to himself.
“Excuse me?”
“This chap in the Afrikakorps?”
“Yeah. I think so. Do tank officers wear big black berets?”
Dulles nodded.
“Then he was—is—a tank officer,” Frade said. “What’s Camp Clinton?”
“A POW camp in Mississippi. We sent a lot of Afrikakorps officers there— including, significantly, General von Arnim. It’s where we plan to hold all German general officers and the more important staff officers.”
Frade’s face showed he had no idea who General von Arnim was.
“Hans von Arnim,” Dulles explained. “He took over the Afrikakorps from Erwin Rommel. He surrendered what was left of it when Tunisia fell. In early May.” He paused and chuckled. “Starchy chap. About so tall”—he held his hand out to indicate a short height—“with a Hitlerian mustache and a large—forgive me—Semitic nose.”
“You know him?” Frade asked in surprise.
“I went to Tunisia to see him. I’m afraid I got nowhere with him.”
Dulles paused thoughtfully again, then asked, “You didn’t report this to Colonel Graham?”
“I sent him half a dozen messages and never got a reply. So I guessed he was out of Washington, and I didn’t want somebody else reading about Frogger if Graham wasn’t there.”
“What are you doing with these people now?”
