When von Wachtstein had been ordered back to Argentina, he thought he had seen the last of Cranz. And now here Cranz was in Argentina, where he was liable to find out not only that von Wachtstein was the man responsible for letting the enemy know what had been about to happen at Samborombón Bay but that Boltitz and Ambassador von Lutzenberger were also actively engaged in treason against the Führer and his Thousand-Year Reich.
Cranz was traveling on a diplomatic passport, so there were virtually no immigration or customs formalities.
Cranz smiled at the Argentine official who returned his passport, saluted, then, smiling even more broadly, walked up to Schneider and von Wachtstein.
Schneider gave another stiff-armed Nazi salute. Cranz ignored it and put out his hand to von Wachtstein.
“I am flattered that you could tear yourself away from your bride to meet me, Peter,” he said.
“Well, for one thing, Herr Obersturmbannführer, I didn’t know you were coming,” von Wachtstein said.
Schneider assumed an even more rigid posture, as befitting a junior SS officer in the presence of a senior one.
“Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” Cranz said. “And, Peter, I have been seconded to the foreign ministry. It would be best if you forgot my SS rank for the time being.”
“Yes, sir,” von Wachtstein said, then turned to von und zu Aschenburg. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Herr Oberst.”
“You are only saying that, Hansel, because I am no longer your commanding officer.”
“The Herr Oberst is absolutely correct,” von Wachtstein said.
Cranz laughed delightedly.
“But I must tell you both,” von Wachtstein said, “that I met you because I have the duty. If I did not, Schneider here would have been your welcoming committee. But all that aside, welcome to Argentina.”
Von und zu Aschenburg thought
“What’s this about a bride, Hansel?” he asked.
“You hadn’t heard about that?” Cranz put in.
Von und zu Aschenburg shook his head.
“One of Argentina’s great beauties found our man irresistible,” Cranz went on, pleased with himself. “Or was it the other way around, Peter?”
“Modesty obviously precludes my answering that question,” von Wachtstein said, then: “Herr Cranz, may I present Untersturmführer Schneider?”
Schneider clicked his heels and rendered yet another crisply perfect Nazi straight-arm salute. Cranz returned it casually.
“I understand you’re responsible for the diplomatic pouch—
“I have that privilege, Herr Obersturmbannführer.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said to Major von Wachtstein?” Cranz snapped. “Do not use my rank again!”
There was a moment’s silence, enough to give von Wachtstein time to think,
Cranz went on, unpleasantly: “Then why don’t you get them? I want to get to the embassy as quickly as possible.”
“What did you mean before, Peter, when you said you ‘had the duty’?” Cranz asked.
“The embassy protocol stipulates that the military attaché is next in line when the first secretary is not able to perform his duties,” von Wachtstein explained. “Gradny-Sawz is in Montevideo. I’m the acting military attaché.”
“What’s Gradny-Sawz doing in Montevideo?” Cranz asked.
“I have no idea.”
“And if Ambassador von Lutzenberger ordered him back here, right now, how long would that take?”
Von Wachtstein looked at his watch and then at the sky.
“If I left right now, as long as it would take to fly back and forth to Montevideo, ” he said. “That presumes the telephone lines are in, and that First Secretary Gradny-Sawz would be at the airport there when I arrived.”
“You have an aircraft immediately available?”
Von Wachtstein pointed to the hangar where the Storch was parked.
“This solution is possible?” Cranz asked.
“Possible, but not likely,” von Wachtstein said.
“Why not? The telephone lines might be out?”
“That, too. But what I was thinking is that the duties of the first secretary probably will keep him from getting to the airport in Carrasco in time for us to take off and make the return flight in daylight. And he does not like to fly at night.”
“But Ambassador Lutzenberger will have ordered him to return,” Cranz challenged.
