“So what I think would likely happen,” von Wachtstein said, “after he couldn’t make it to the airport in time for me to fly him back here today, would be that he would say, ‘Now that it’s impossible to fly, the obvious thing to do is take the boat. That will get me to Buenos Aires earlier than I could flying with you in the morning.’ Actually, he’s not enthusiastic about flying in the Storch at all.”
“You’re not suggesting that First Secretary Gradny-Sawz is afraid of flying?” Cranz said.
“Perish the thought,” von Wachtstein said, his smile making it perfectly clear that that was exactly what he was suggesting. “If you have to see him right now, I could fly you over there.”
Cranz did not reply directly. Instead, he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud, “I have to see everybody, but not necessarily tonight. Generalmajor von Deitzberg is here?”
“No, sir. The Generalmajor and Sturmbannführer Raschner went with Gradny-Sawz to Montevideo.”
“Do you know why?”
“No, sir.”
“Peter, if the ambassador should send for them, how would they return?”
“By the boat.”
“Tell me about that.”
“There is an eleven P.M. boat from Montevideo to Buenos Aires. It’s usually an eight- or nine-hour ride. There’re cabins on the boat, and a bar and a nice restaurant.”
“I can see where First Secretary Gradny-Sawz would prefer that to flying in that little airplane,” Cranz said, then added, “And Boltitz? Where is he?”
“Also in Montevideo. If Ambassador Lutzenberger hadn’t told me how much he needs me to help run the embassy, I would think that no one likes me.”
Cranz laughed. He put his arm around von Wachtstein’s shoulder.
“I like you, Hansel,” he said. “And Oberst von und zu Aschenburg likes you. Isn’t that so, Herr Oberst?”
“Can I have some time to think about that?” von und zu Aschenburg said.
Cranz laughed again.
“I can see why you’re friends,” he said. “Well, then, let’s go to the embassy. I can report to Ambassador Lutzenberger and see what he thinks is the best way to get everyone together.”
Cranz looked impatiently at the door of the Condor.
“What’s taking him so long?”
[FOUR]
The Embassy of the German Reich Avenue Córdoba Buenos Aires, Argentina 1735 12 July 1943
“Where did you meet Herr Cranz, Hansel?” Dieter von und zu Aschenburg asked after von Wachtstein had led him into his office and waved him into a chair.
“Charming man, isn’t he?” von Wachtstein said, pointing to the light fixture on the ceiling and then at the telephones on his desk.
Von und zu Aschenburg nodded his understanding.
“I met him when I was in Germany,” von Wachtstein said.
“You mean recently?” von und zu Aschenburg asked. He looked around the room, then motioned for von Wachtstein to come close.
“In May,” von Wachtstein said.
“I didn’t know you’d been in Germany, Peter.”
“Oh, yes.”
Von und zu Aschenburg handed him a thick, airmail-weight envelope and mouthed the words
Peter took the envelope and mouthed,
“Doing what?” von und zu Aschenburg asked, as von Wachtstein walked across the room and sat behind his desk.
“Apropos of absolutely nothing, have you heard that there is a new Messerschmitt with a new kind of engine?”
“When I’m not an airline pilot, I’m a Luftwaffe officer. General Galland was kind enough to show me what he’s doing in Augsburg. Unfortunately, I was unable to convince my superiors that I could make a greater contribution to the final victory with a squadron of Me-262s than I am flying a transport back and forth here.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” von Wachtstein said. “I was in Augsburg and had just passed my check ride in the Me-262 when I was sent back here.”
Von und zu Aschenburg looked at him, asking with his eyes if that was the truth, rather than having been said for the benefit of the hidden microphones. Von Wachtstein nodded.
“That’s unusual. Why? What are you doing here that’s so important?” He stopped himself, then went on. “I should not have asked that.”
“What’s more than a little embarrassing, Dieter, is the reason I was sent back.”
“Which you cannot tell me for reasons of security?” It was more a statement for the recorder than a question.
“Which I don’t want to go any further than this room.”
Von und zu Aschenburg nodded his understanding.
“I was about to become a father.”
“So they got you out of Germany to keep you from an unsuitable marriage? One that would embarrass the Luftwaffe?”
“I was,
“I don’t understand.”
“When the lady who is now my wife learned that she was in the family way, she went to her priest, a Jesuit named Welner. He went to Colonel Juan Domingo Perón—”
“Who’s he?”
“One of the more important colonels. And the least important colonels in Argentina, I’ve learned, are at least as important as one of our Generalmajors. Tío Juan Domingo, as my wife calls Colonel Perón, is ‘special assistant’ to General Ramírez, the president. I’d say that he’s the second or third most powerful man in Argentina.”
“And?”
