“What do you mean?”
“Two things: Where all those pathetic ‘Spanish and Portuguese’ Jews are coming from—pathetic meaning undernourished, showing signs of abuse, and looking very frightened. And with numbers tattooed on their inner arms.” He pointed to his own arm. “We checked their passports. They’re valid.”
“You said two things,” Frade said.
“And the passage of large amounts of dollars and pounds sterling through Argentina and into Uruguay.”
Frade smiled knowingly. He said, “The operation is run by Himmler’s adjutant, SS-Brigadeführer Manfred von Deitzberg, who was recently in Argentina wearing the uniform of a Wehrmacht major general.”
“We knew that—that he was really SS—but never quite understood what he was doing in Argentina.”
“Looking for Galahad and protecting the ransoming operation.”
“From you?”
Frade nodded, and said, “But he really has nothing to worry about for the moment. President Roosevelt has decided that my shutting it down would have the effect of sending more Jews to the ovens or being worked—or starved—to death. So the plan is that we’ll deal with those bastards once the Germans have surrendered.”
“One of the problems you—the United States and England—have in Argentina, Cletus, is that very few people are willing to believe the Germans are capable of cruelty—mass murder—on that scale.”
“Yeah, I know,” Frade said, and went on: “My orders are to keep track of both Operation Phoenix and the ransoming money.”
“This is where you have to tell me about South American Airways. Alejandro Martín doesn’t believe much—in fact, anything—about the story you’ve given about why the U.S. suddenly is willing to provide us airplanes that Brazil—and other of your allies—would very much like to have.”
Delgano paused, chuckled, then went on: “But his philosophy is much like yours, Cletus: Let the bastards get away with whatever it is for now. We’ll deal with them later, and in the meantime we’ll have the airplanes.”
“And Gonzo Delgano is watching the bastards like a condor?”
Delgano smiled and nodded.
“The true story is pretty incredible,” Frade said. “You want to hear it anyway?”
Delgano nodded.
“You know who Colonel Charles Lindbergh is?”
Delgano’s face showed he found the question unnecessary to the point of being insulting.
“Well, Lindbergh went to Germany, where Göring gave him a medal, then Lindbergh came home and announced that the Luftwaffe was the most advanced . . .”
“You’re right,” Delgano said. “That story is so incredible that I don’t think you could have made it up. Really?”
Frade nodded. “That’s it. Believe it or not. Okay. Getting back to the Froggers.”
“Okay.”
“You want the short version or the long one?” Clete asked.
“Try the short one first.”
“The Froggers had three sons. Two of them were killed. Lieutenant Colonel Wilhelm Frogger was captured with General von Arnim when the Afrikakorps surrendered, and was taken to America. When I was gone—ostensibly getting my ATR check ride in a Lodestar—I actually flew a Constellation to the POW cage in Mississippi. I showed Frogger pictures of his parents with me and Len Fischer. I told him why his parents—at least his father—had fled the German embassy—”
“ ‘At least his father’?”
“La Señora Frogger is a dedicated Nazi. And, as such, too much of a zealot to believe that the Nazis would kill her and her husband without blinking an eye.”
Delgano’s face showed surprise, but he said nothing.
“Anyway, I told Frogger about Operation Phoenix—”
“And he believed you?”
Frade nodded. “And he’s willing to talk to his father about helping me keep track of the Operation Phoenix and ransoming money.”
“Two questions about that. First, why would he do that? Second, how could he do that from a prisoner camp in . . . where did you say? Mississippi?”
“He’s not in Mississippi,” Frade said.
Delgano considered that a moment, then an eyebrow went up. “Canoas?”
Frade nodded again.
“How did he get there?”
“In a Constellation.”
“The same one you flew to Mississippi to see him?”
“Yeah.”
“It doesn’t add up, Cletus. I don’t think you’re lying to me, but I’m sure you’re not telling me everything.”
Clete smiled. “I’m not and I’m not.”
“You’re going to have to tell me everything.”
“Tell me what doesn’t add up, and I’ll try.”
“Let’s go back to SAA’s insurance being canceled,” Delgano said. “Martín doesn’t believe that. He thinks it was arranged to give you a credible excuse to come to the United States. To see this Colonel Frogger?”
"It was.”
Delgano squinted his eyes. He looked a little mad . . . or maybe hurt.
“Your anger was very convincing,” he said. “I told Martín I believed you.”
“I didn’t know until we got to the Chateau Marmont. Graham was there.”
Delgano considered that, then asked, “Who arranged the scenario?”
“The man you met in Canoas. His name is Allen Dulles. He does in Europe what Graham does in the Western Hemisphere.”
“As important as keeping a track on the German money in Argentina may be to you, I don’t think it’s important enough for all of this. And I find it very hard to believe that a German lieutenant colonel is going to change sides simply because you have his parents.”
Frade didn’t reply for a long moment. Then he said, “Frogger had changed sides, to use your term, before I saw him. Before he was captured. I didn’t know this when I went to see him, and he was everything you’d expect an officer to be. He wouldn’t give me anything but his name and his rank and his service number.”
“What happened?”
“I really don’t want to tell you this, and after I do you will probably— almost certainly—wish I hadn’t told you.”
“We won’t know that, will we, until you do? So tell me.”
Frade made a grunt. “Okay. There is a plot involving a number of senior German officers to kill Hitler and end the war they know they have no chance of winning before more people are killed. Frogger has been part of it for some time. When it came out that we knew about it—”
“You told him?”
“It came out almost accidentally. He threw a name at me and saw on my face that I knew it.”
“That tells me, you know, that the Germans you’re working with in Buenos Aires—Galahad certainly, the ambassador maybe, and probably others—are involved in this assassination plot.”
“I don’t want to answer that, Gonzo.”
Delgano looked Frade in the eyes a long moment.
“You don’t have to, Cletus. And you’re right, my friend. My life would be a lot more comfortable from now on if I didn’t know about this.”
“If it gets out, a lot of good, decent officers are going to wind up with piano wire around their necks and hanging from butcher hooks.”
“And if it doesn’t get out, Hitler is assassinated.”
“That’s what we’re hoping for.”
It was another long moment before Delgano went on: “The rest of the scenario is that we fly to Canoas, then smuggle Frogger into the country. And I tell no one. Is that it?”
“That’s part of it. The other part is that we smuggle the Froggers out of Argentina into Brazil, where they will be seen boarding a British warship or airplane—that hasn’t been worked out completely yet—then smuggle them back into Argentina.”
“To call off the hunt for them in Argentina?”
Frade nodded.
“And you’re asking me to help you with this?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You realize that I am honor bound to tell Colonel Martín everything you’ve told me.”