“What did you say? Two million two hundred thousand? Why do I think you just made that figure up?”
“The aircraft are in the neighborhood of a hundred twenty-three thousand dollars U.S. each,” Humberto said. “And you’re going to need at least a dozen to get started, and fourteen would be better. . . .”
“Fourteen of them comes to about one and three-quarter million. Doubling that—to provide for spares, salaries, operating capital, et cetera, in our preliminary planning—comes to a little less than three and a half million. Sixty percent of that, to ensure your control, comes to the two-million-two figure I mentioned.”
“Why fourteen airplanes?”
“Aeropostal has a dozen,” Duarte said.
“Where’s the other forty percent coming from?”
“Claudia and I will take twelve-point-five each, and the bank the remaining fifteen percent. As I said, my board of directors feels it’s a sound investment.”
“When did they decide that?”
“I should have said, ‘The board will feel that it’s a sound investment after I have a chance to tell them about it.’ ”
“And when is this all going to take place?”
“Claudia’s going to give a small, sort of family-only dinner tomorrow night, if Colonel Perón can find the time. If not, the next night. We can sign everything at the dinner.”
“I don’t know how long it’ll take me to come up with that kind of money.”
“The bank regards you as a good credit risk.”
“You’re amazing, Humberto.”
“How kind of you to say so. Shall we walk over to the Jockey Club?’
[THREE]
El Palomar Airfield Buenos Aires, Argentina 1605 12 July 1943
“El Palomar, Lufthansa Six Zero Two,” came over the speakers in the El Palomar tower.
The call was faint, and in German. The latter posed no problems—just about all the tower operators spoke German—but the faintness of the call did.
The operators hurriedly put on headsets. One of them went to the radio rack to see if he could better tune in the caller. Another leaned over a shelf and spoke—in German—into a microphone.
“Lufthansa Six Zero Two, this is El Palomar.”
There was no answer, so the operator tried again, and again got no answer.
There was another call to the tower.
“El Palomar, Lufthansa Six Zero Two. El Palomar, Lufthansa Six Zero Two.”
Everybody knew what was happening; it had happened several times before. The Siemens radio transmitters aboard the Lufthansa airplane had greater range than did the radios in the tower. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but that’s the way it was.
It produced mixed feelings in both of them, embarrassment that their tower had terribly mediocre communications equipment, and vicarious pride as Germano-Argentines in the really superb German equipment aboard the Lufthansa aircraft.
One of the operators picked up a telephone and dialed a number from memory.
It was answered, in Spanish, on the third ring.
“Embassy of the German Reich.”
“Let me speak to the duty officer, please,” the tower operator said in Spanish.
An interior phone rang three times before it was answered in Spanish.
“Consular section. Consul Schneider speaking.”
The tower operator switched to German.
“Herr Untersturmführer, here is Kurt Schumer at El Palomar.”
Untersturmführer Johan Schneider also switched to German.
“How can I help you, Herr Schumer?”
“We just had a radio call from Lufthansa Six Zero Two, Herr Untersturmführer. ”
“And?”
“We can hear him, Herr Untersturmführer, but he cannot hear us, which suggests he is some distance away.”
“We have had no word of an incoming Condor,” Schneider said.
Schumer didn’t reply.
“Which, of course,” Schneider went on, “does not mean that a Condor is not on its way here. Thank you, Herr Schumer. I shall take the necessary steps.”
“My pleasure, Herr Untersturmführer.”
“Heil Hitler!” Schneider barked, and broke the connection.
There was, of course, a protocol spelled out in great detail in the embassy of the German Reich for a situation like this. At the moment, it wasn’t working very well.
Untersturmführer Schneider, who was listed on the embassy’s manning chart as an assistant consul, was a member of the Sicherheitsdienst (the Security Service, known by its acronym, SD) of the Sicherheitspolizei (the Security Police, known by its acronym, SIPO), which in turn was part of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt (the Reich Security Central Office, known by its acronym, RHSA) of the Allgemeine-SS. The SS itself was divided into two parts, the other being the Waffen-SS, which was military in nature.
Untersturmführer Schneider was very much aware that he was the senior SS officer presently assigned to the embassy of the Reich in Buenos Aires. This was pretty heady stuff for an untersturmführer, which was the SS rank corresponding to second lieutenant.
