“Sinking the Reine de la Mer proved that we know what they were doing, know the identity of the ships that are violating Argentine neutrality, and are prepared to send submarines—or whatever else it takes—into the Río de la Plata to stop it. Argentineans, no matter how much they dislike Americans or love Der Führer, do not want naval battles in the Río de la Plata. Somebody high up in the government has told the Germans to do their submarine replenishment somewhere else. And that’s what they’re doing. They send supply U-boats from Europe and they rendezvous on the high seas.”
He waited a moment, and after Duarte nodded his understanding, went on: “I know—but they don’t know I know—that my aircraft mechanic, his name is Carlos Olivo, works for Martín. So Martín knows that every time our radar picks up something interesting, a ship we don’t know about, I get in the Lodestar and fly out over the muddy waters of the Río de la Plata and have a look at it. If it’s suspicious, Martín gets an ‘anonymous’ call. Martín knows where it comes from. I keep my people on the estancia, and Martín doesn’t come onto the estancia looking for them or the radar, or ask where I’ve been in the Lodestar.”
“You seem pretty sure of all this,” Duarte said.
“I am. Now, while I have no idea why President Roosevelt wants an airline down here—”
“Roosevelt? That’s where this idea comes from?”
Frade nodded. “There’s all sorts of possibilities, one being that he wants to stick it to Juan Trippe of Panagra, but I just don’t know. Anyway, it has nothing to do with what I’m doing for the OSS. I’ll see to that.
“Martín, being Martín, will suspect otherwise. I would, in his shoes. So what I have to do is convince him that I’m as pure as the driven snow. To that end, the pilots of this airline will be Argentine. The whole operation, except for maintenance supervisors and some American airline pilots who will come down here to train the pilots and maintenance people and set it up, will be Argentine. And the cherry on the cake will be that my Tío Juan will be one of the investors and play an active role. I don’t know if he’ll be suspicious or not.”
“You can count on it that he will, Cletus.”
“Then good. Let him snoop wherever he wants to. There will be nothing for him to find, because there will be nothing.”
“You said you want Perón to be one of the investors.”
“Right.”
“Before we get to who the others might be, where is Perón going to get the money to invest? He doesn’t have anything but his army pay.”
“The Anglo-Argentine Bank is going to loan it to him. When I talk to the sonofabitch, I’m going to tell him that I’m absolutely confident that the Anglo-Argentine Bank would be delighted to loan an important man, such as himself, whatever he needed for this business venture.”
“The board won’t like that,” Duarte said. “Where’s the collateral?”
“You’ve just been telling me how wise I would be to be nice to the sonofabitch, that he’s destined to become really important. Tell the board the same thing.”
“If you’re going to be in business with him, it might be a good idea for you to stop referring to him as ‘the sonofabitch.’ ”
“Yes or no? If necessary, I’ll guarantee his loan, but I’d rather he thought I had nothing to do with it. And that Martín learned that, too.”
Duarte didn’t reply directly. “And the other investors?”
“Why do I think you’re not slobbering at the mouth to get a piece of my get-rich-quick scheme?”
“Because I’m a banker, and I recognize a risky venture when I see one. Who else, Cletus?”
“My father-in-law, for one. Señora Carzino-Cormano, for another, and possibly even—I don’t know if she has any money—Señora Alicia Carzino-Cormano de von Wachtstein.”
“Alicia? Because of her husband?”
“How could I possibly be doing something anti-German with my airline if the wife of Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein is a major investor? I suspect the Germans would tell him to get as close to it as he could.”
“But not with the money we hope the German embassy doesn’t know about?”
Frade shook his head.
“Not with that money, no,” he said. “I don’t care who the investors will be so long as I hold sixty percent. I need fifty-one percent for control, and the other nine because I don’t want something unexpected to happen that will cut my piece below fifty-one percent.”
Duarte looked at him for a long moment.
“Cletus, you are very much like your father,” he said. “Remembering your father showing up in the Third Floor Lounge drunk as an owl and in full gaucho regalia—which happened more than once—I was not surprised to see you there, in cowboy boots and tie-less. But I confess I am surprised a little to see that you also have his business acumen. You’ve given this airline idea a good deal of thought, haven’t you?”
Frade nodded, then said, “Does that mean you’re not dismissing the idea out of hand as lunatic?”
“Actually, it seems like a pretty good idea. I’ll have to ask some questions, and give it some thought, of course.”
“Of course. Thank you, Humberto.”
[FOUR]
The Office of the Reichsführer-SS Berlin, Germany 2255 7 July 1943
“You wished to see me, Herr Reichsprotektor?” Obersturmbannführer Karl Cranz asked as he entered the office of Heinrich Himmler.
Cranz was a good-looking, blond, fair-skinned man in his early thirties.
“I wished to see you an hour and a half ago,” Himmler said.
“I regret that Sturmscharführer Neidler had trouble finding me in the air raid shelter, Herr Reichsprotektor.”
Sturmscharführer (Sergeant Major) Neidler was Himmler’s de facto private secretary. He rarely left Himmler’s side. That he had been sent to find Cranz had told Cranz there was absolutely no question that Himmler wanted to see him.
“You were not at home?”
“I took my wife to the opera, Herr Reichsprotektor. Neidler knew where I was.”
Himmler waved him into a chair.
“While you were at the opera, Cranz, Admiral Canaris came to see me. He would have liked to have had a word with you, but as you said, Sturmscharführer Neidler apparently had difficulty locating you, and the admiral could not wait.”
“Whenever you are through with me, Herr Reichsprotektor, I will go to see the admiral and offer my most sincere apologies.”
Himmler did not respond to that.
“Canaris had two things on his mind, Cranz. First was that there had been a radio message from the Ciudad de Cádiz. Two words: ‘Smooth seas.’ ”
“Well, that’s good news, Herr Reichsprotektor.”
“Meaning the special cargo is already aboard U-405.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The second thing Canaris wanted to tell me was that he had a talk a few days ago with Parteileiter Bormann. Bormann told him that a couple of things had been decided. First, that Gradny-Sawz would be the man charged with enlisting Oberst Perón in the plans we have for him, and second, on the recommendation of Brigadeführer von Deitzberg, that Korvettenkapitän Boltitz will become the naval attaché of our embassy in Buenos Aires, whose additional duties will be threefold: supervising the execution of Operation Phoenix, keeping an eye on Gradny-Sawz, and finding the traitor—or possibly the spy—in the embassy.”
Himmler looked at Cranz as if expecting a reply, and when none was forthcoming, said, “Comments, Cranz?”
“Sir, the Herr Reichsprotektor did not tell me he had made those decisions. ”
“I didn’t tell you that I had because I hadn’t. Parteileiter Bormann apparently has taken it upon himself to make them for me and Admiral Canaris. And in the case of Boltitz, acting on the recommendation of Brigadeführer von Deitzberg, who was presumably speaking for me.”