Cranz and Boltitz had shown up a week later in Augsburg. Cranz was in charge of the elaborate funerals of Oberst Grüner and Standartenführer Goltz. By then, von Wachtstein had decided that while the SS officer was far more charming than the naval officer, he was also the most dangerous.
When von Wachtstein had been ordered back to Argentina, he thought he had seen the last of Cranz. And now here Cranz was in Argentina, where he was liable to find out not only that von Wachtstein was the man responsible for letting the enemy know what had been about to happen at Samborombón Bay but that Boltitz and Ambassador von Lutzenberger were also actively engaged in treason against the Führer and his Thousand-Year Reich.
Cranz was traveling on a diplomatic passport, so there were virtually no immigration or customs formalities.
Cranz smiled at the Argentine official who returned his passport, saluted, then, smiling even more broadly, walked up to Schneider and von Wachtstein.
Schneider gave another stiff-armed Nazi salute. Cranz ignored it and put out his hand to von Wachtstein.
“I am flattered that you could tear yourself away from your bride to meet me, Peter,” he said.
“Well, for one thing, Herr Obersturmbannführer, I didn’t know you were coming,” von Wachtstein said.
Schneider assumed an even more rigid posture, as befitting a junior SS officer in the presence of a senior one.
“Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” Cranz said. “And, Peter, I have been seconded to the foreign ministry. It would be best if you forgot my SS rank for the time being.”
“Yes, sir,” von Wachtstein said, then turned to von und zu Aschenburg. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Herr Oberst.”
“You are only saying that, Hansel, because I am no longer your commanding officer.”
“The Herr Oberst is absolutely correct,” von Wachtstein said.
Cranz laughed delightedly.
“But I must tell you both,” von Wachtstein said, “that I met you because I have the duty. If I did not, Schneider here would have been your welcoming committee. But all that aside, welcome to Argentina.”
Von und zu Aschenburg thought: Well, why am I surprised that the charming Herr Cranz is actually Obersturmbannführer Cranz? He showed up at Tempelhof in an SS Mercedes.
But why isn’t Hansel awed by the Herr Obersturmbannführer?
Is that stupidity, or on purpose?
“What’s this about a bride, Hansel?” he asked.
“You hadn’t heard about that?” Cranz put in.
Von und zu Aschenburg shook his head.
“One of Argentina’s great beauties found our man irresistible,” Cranz went on, pleased with himself. “Or was it the other way around, Peter?”
“Modesty obviously precludes my answering that question,” von Wachtstein said, then: “Herr Cranz, may I present Untersturmführer Schneider?”
Schneider clicked his heels and rendered yet another crisply perfect Nazi straight-arm salute. Cranz returned it casually.
“I understand you’re responsible for the diplomatic pouch—pouches— Schneider?”
“I have that privilege, Herr Obersturmbannführer.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said to Major von Wachtstein?” Cranz snapped. “Do not use my rank again!”
There was a moment’s silence, enough to give von Wachtstein time to think, That little sonofabitch is so scared of Cranz he can’t talk!
Cranz went on, unpleasantly: “Then why don’t you get them? I want to get to the embassy as quickly as possible.”
“Jawohl, meine Herr,” Schneider said, and saluted again. He hurried onto the Condor.
“What did you mean before, Peter, when you said you ‘had the duty’?” Cranz asked.
“The embassy protocol stipulates that the military attaché is next in line when the first secretary is not able to perform his duties,” von Wachtstein explained. “Gradny-Sawz is in Montevideo. I’m the acting military attaché.”
“What’s Gradny-Sawz doing in Montevideo?” Cranz asked.
“I have no idea.”
“And if Ambassador von Lutzenberger ordered him back here, right now, how long would that take?”
Von Wachtstein looked at his watch and then at the sky.
“If I left right now, as long as it would take to fly back and forth to Montevideo, ” he said. “That presumes the telephone lines are in, and that First Secretary Gradny-Sawz would be at the airport there when I arrived.”
“You have an aircraft immediately available?”
Von Wachtstein pointed to the hangar where the Storch was parked.
“This solution is possible?” Cranz asked.
“Possible, but not likely,” von Wachtstein said.
“Why not? The telephone lines might be out?”
“That, too. But what I was thinking is that the duties of the first secretary probably will keep him from getting to the airport in Carrasco in time for us to take off and make the return flight in daylight. And he does not like to fly at night.”
“But Ambassador Lutzenberger will have ordered him to return,” Cranz challenged.
“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.