"Yes, Sir. I'll have to take a side window out for the best results."
"But you can use the camera in the Lockheed?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Be prepared to do so."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"You're dismissed, Captain."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
Graham waited until he had left the room and then turned to Mr. Ralph Stevenson, the Cultural Attach? of the Embassy of the United States of America in Montevideo, Uruguay.
"I want to ask you an off-the-record question, Ralph," he said, "which I promise you I will never remember asking. If I weren't here, and because of the three team chiefs we have down here, you're the only one who comes close to being what a team chief should be, you were faced with making the decision, what would you do?".
"Decision about what?"
"'Let's give Frade the benefit of the doubt a moment. Let's say his source is good. Early tomorrow, the Germans will attempt to smuggle into Argentina a large sum of moneyI have trouble with that one-hundred-million-dollar figure, but let's say a very large sum of money. Five million. Ten million. This money we know has been stolen in some despicable way from Jews in Germany. Not only that, but it will be used to purchase safe houses foran infrastructure designed to give sanctuary toany number of characters for whom skinning alive is too good. What do we do about that? Try to prevent them from smuggling it in? Try to grab the money? If we do that, we are probably also going to interfere with Lindbergh. Lindbergh is filthy, but on the other hand, people otherwise doomed to be shot in the head or gassed or starved to death, including, of course, women and children, are getting out of the camps. The third option is to do nothing, let them bring the money into the country and try to keep an eye on what happens to it, in the hope that when the war is over we can make things right."
"I'd rather not answer that question, Colonel," Stevenson said immediately.
"Answer it. What would you do in my shoes?"
Stevenson met Graham's eyes for a moment, then shrugged.
"Let it in," he said. "Try to keep an eye on it. Spend whatever it takes to have enough FBI accountants and whatever else is needed to follow the money trail sent down here. Otherwise the people in the camps won't get out. Isn't life worth more than money?"
Graham didn't reply directly.
"This conversation never took place," he said. "You're welcome to stick around, of course, Ralph. But if you want to return to Montevideo . . ."
"I think I'll wait and see what happens tomorrow morning," Stevenson said.
"In that case, good night, Ralph," Graham said. "Sleep well."
Graham walked with him to the door and then turned to face Milton Leibermann.
"That makes it two to one, doesn't it?" Leibermann said.
"Maybe three to one. But I have other thoughts. If we grabbed this money, wouldn't it let them know we're onto them?"
"To what end?"
"It might make them consider that this sanctuary nonsense is a dream," Graham said.
"I'm not sure it is," Leibermann said. "Money talks, to coin a phrase."
"Could you follow the money trail Stevenson talked about?"
"Yes and no. Yes, if I had enough people, and we couldthe U.S. government couldput sufficient pressure on the government of Argentinaon all the governments down hereto let us into their banking records. I don't think either is likely."
"So your objection to grabbing the money is based on this filthy scheme saving some lives?"
"Yeah. But I'm not sure if that's Milton Leibermann, Philosopher, talking, or Milton Leibermann, Jew."
"That doesn't make it two to one, Milton. It makes it one for letting the money in because it saves lives; one for letting it in because things can be made right laterwhich is unlikely; and one for grabbing the money and letting the bastards know we know what they're up to."
"I still count that two to one for letting it in," Leibermann said. "So what are you going to do about Frade?"
"You mean about Galahad and Cavalry?"
Leibermann nodded.
"Galahad is obviously the Luftwaffe pilot. The confirmation of that we got tonight. Frade leaves the room to see the Carzino-Cormano girl. He comes back three minutes after seeing her with the location of the Oceano Pacifico and the information that the Germans are going to smuggle the money ashore in the morning, and where they're going to land it. And you tell me she is running around with a Luftwaffe pilotwhat's his name?"
"Hans-Peter von Wachtstein."
". . . named von Wachtstein."
"Yeah," Leibermann agreed.
"Von Wachtstein tipped Frade that they were going to try to kill him, and Frade figures he owes him his life. He doesn't want to give me his name becausewith good reason, I'm sorry to sayhe doesn't trust Donovan, and figures if the OSS was willing to consider him expendable, they wouldn't hesitate to use von Wachtstein to manipulate his father, which is likely to get von Wachtstein, pere etfils, killed. You heard that couldn't-look-himself-in-the-mirror business."
Leibermann shrugged, clearly meaning he agreed with the identification.
"And Cavalry?"
"I'm not sure about Cavalry. One moment I think it's the BIS guy, Martin, and the next moment I think, really think, that it's Rawson. He and Frade's father were great buddies. . . ."
"So were Frade's father and el Coronel Juan Domingo Per?n."
"Rawson obviously trusts Frade enough to let him get close to the coup d?tat, not to mention letting him fly him around during the revolution. And who but somebody like Rawson would have the authority to let Frade land his airplane at Santo Tome?"
"Martin," Leibermann said. "Either at Rawson's bidding, or on his own authority."
"Bringing me back to square one," Graham said. "Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."
"So what happens if you take a chanceyou understand Frade is not going to identify either one of them, don't you?"
"You'll notice I didn't stand him at attention and order him to tell me," Graham said.
"So what happens if you take a chance and tell Donovan what you think, that Galahad is von Wachtstein . . ."
"I know von Wachtstein is Galahad."
". . . and Cavalry is Rawson. Or Martin. And Frade finds out about it?"
"You tell me."
"You know what I really think? That it would be the first time in history that a Marine major with the Navy Cross told you 'fuck you all, I quit.'"
"You really think he'd do that? That would be desertion in time of war. That would mean he could never go back home."
"Where's home. Alejandro? Down here he's a great-grandson of Pueyrred?n, which is like being the great-grandson of Washington or Jefferson. And this is all his. . . ." Leibermann gestured around the library. "And, very important, he's going to marry that gorgeous blond."
"He's an honorable man. He swore an oath as a Marine officer," Graham argued.
"He's an honorable man with a clear conscience. He didn't get all those medals running away from the Japanese. And he came down here and did his Marine officer's duty afterhe found out the OSS considered him expendableand nearly got himself killed lighting up the Reine de la Mer so the sub could torpedo it."
"It would still be desertion. Maybe even treason."
"Yeah. And none of the usual things that happen to deserters in time of war would happen to him. Even if you could get him back to the States to try him and I don't see how you could; among other things, the Argentines consider him a citizeneven if you did, do you really want to try for desertion or treason a man who won the Navy Cross? You couldn't keep it out of the papers. And his grandfather would hire a half-dozen U.S. Senators to defend him. The whole story would come out."