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"A very long flight, Herr Oberst," Goltz said, returning the salute. The two men shook hands and unabashedly examined each other.

They were of equal rank. Tonight, of course, at dinner at the Ambassador's residence, Standartenf?hrer Goltz would have the place of honor, and be seated at the head table next to the Ambassador and across from the Ambassador's wife. Ordinarily, although he was senior in grade by almost two years to Gr?ner, he would be seated far below him at a formal dinner table. Protocol, which for some reason had always fascinated Gr?ner, held that branch of service was the first consideration, then the rank of the individual.

In terms of protocol, the Army was the senior service, followed by the Navy, the Air Force, and then the SS. This was a source of annoyance to many members of the SS. Since their mission was the protection of National Socialism and the F?hrer himself, they felt that the SS should be the senior service, and that SS officers should not be relegated to a distant corner of an official table. None of the other services agreed, of course.

Gr?ner had come to understand and appreciate the necessity for protocol and to understand why it rankled the SS. Many senior SS officers had never worked their way up through the ranks, and that situation was getting worse. To curry favor with—or ensure the loyalty of—high-ranking bureaucrats and even prominent doctors, lawyers, and businessmen, these people were being given honorary officer's rank in the Allgemeine SS. This carried with it the privilege of wearing the black SS uniform and the cap adorned with death's-head.

At a formal dinner, serving SS officers had precedence over honorary officers. So everyone at a dinner could look down the table and see who was a serving SS officer, and who was a bureaucrat or businessman dressed up like one.

Gr?ner found a certain justice in the dictates of protocol, and had taken pleasure that every time the SS wanted the system changed, it had been frustrated by those who wanted it left as it was.

Goltz had at least once been a serving officer. Although they had never seen each other before, Gr?ner knew a good deal about him. In the same out-of-normal-channels envelope in which he had notified him of the identity of the SS liaison officer who would visit Argentina, Admiral Canaris had included a copy of Goltz's Abwehr dossier.

Gr?ner had learned that Standartenf?hrer Josef Luther Goltz was a Hessian, born in 1897 in Giessen, forty miles north of Frankfurt an der Main. He was called up with his class of eighteen-year-olds in 1915, and served four months in the trenches on the Western Front with the 219th Infanterie Regiment. While recuperating in Weisbaden from wounds, he was awarded the Iron Cross Second Class, as well as selected for Officer Training School.

On graduation he was posted to the Sixteenth "List" Bavarian Infanterie Reserve Regiment—in which Corporal Adolf Hitler won the Iron Cross First Class—and served in it until the Armistice in November 1918. During that time he was wounded twice again, promoted Captain, and also awarded the Iron Cross First Class.

Obviously,Gr?ner thought as he read the dossier, if Lieutenant or Captain Goltz encountered Corporal Hitler in the trenches, he treated him well, or he would not be a Standartenf?hrer.

Immediately demobilized after the Armistice of 1918, Goltz returned briefly to school, but after less than a year at Munich University, he dropped out. He then found employment driving a streetcar for the City of Munich. And in 1921, he joined the Sturmabteilungen (the SA, the private army of the Nazi party, commonly called the "Brown Shirts," commanded by Ernst Rohm) of the just-renamed (from "German Workers' Party") Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Workers' Party).

Gr?ner remembered this now, seeing the "Long Service" Nazi party pin in Goltz's lapel.

In 1924. Goltz left Civil Service to work full-time for the Nazi party. And in 1929, he left both the SA and the employ of the Nazi party to reenter government service, this time as a policeman. In 1933, he was commissioned into the SS as a Hauptsturmf?hrer, the equivalent of a captain. His promotions thereafter came rapidly.

After reading Goltz's dossier, Gr?ner decided that Goltz was an obviously bright, well-connected, and thus dangerous man. Looking at his face now, he saw nothing to change that opinion.

"I think you'll be comfortable here," Gr?ner said, gesturing around the suite.

"I'm sure I will be," Goltz said. "At what time, if you know, would it be convenient for me to present my respects to the Ambassador?"

"The Ambassador requests the pleasure of your company at dinner at the residence . . ."

"How kind of him."

". . . at eightp.m. Following this, the Ambassador suggests that you join the official party which will go to the Edificio Libertador to pay our respects to the late Oberst Jorge Guillermo Frade."

Goltz's face now showed interest.

"Oh, really?"

"G?nther, would you wait in the corridor, please?" Gr?ner ordered.

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst," G?nther said, came to attention, clicked his heels the way he had seen Major von Wachtstein do, and left the room.

"Oberst Frade," Gr?ner said, pausing to light a cigarette, "a prominent Argentine, was tragically murdered during a robbery attempt three days ago."

"So I've heard," Goltz said. "Murdered by robbers, you said?"

"Yes. They were quickly detected by the Buenos Aires Provincial Police, and died in a gun battle during an attempt to arrest them."

"That question was one of the matters I had wished to discuss with you, Herr Oberst," Goltz said. "There was some question—"

"I must temper my desire to immediately comply with my orders," Gr?ner said, aware of the direction Goltz was taking him, "as I am sure you will understand, Herr Standartenf?hrer, with other considerations."

"There are those in Berlin who felt you questioned that decision, Herr Oberst."

"Both the Ambassador and I felt that it was unnecessary, Herr Standartenf?hrer, and perhaps even unwise. I cannot, of course, speak for the Ambassador, but I still feel that way. A moot question, anyway. Oberst Frade is no longer with us."

"The thinking in Berlin—of your superiors and mine—to which I was privy, was that the solution ordered would not only have the obvious benefit of making sure Oberst Frade was not in a position to cause Argentina to declare war on Germany, it would also make the point that the enemies of Germany, no matter how highly placed, are not immune to German retribution."

Gr?ner did not reply.

"You question the wisdom of that decision, Herr Oberst?"

"I never question my orders, Herr Standartenf?hrer. But I consider it my duty to advise my superiors of my best judgment on any issue before them."

"Of course. And your candor, as well as your professionalism, Herr Oberst, is both admired and respected in Berlin. But in this case, certainly you are willing to concede that you were . . . what shall I say . . . that you erred on the side of caution?"

"Time will tell, of course, Herr Standartenf?hrer."

"What if I told you that Oberst Juan Domingo Per?n was on the Condor with me?"

Gr?ner shrugged.

"We can, I presume, credibly deny that we were in any way involved in Oberst Frade's tragic death at the hands of robbers?"

"With the assassins dead, there is no way that any connection with us can be proved, Herr Standartenf?hrer. Credibly denied, yes. But that is not quite the same thing."