The Honor Of Spies - The Honor of Spies Part 39
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The Honor of Spies Part 39

"It's an Argentine aircraft," Ambassador von Lutzenberger said.

Cranz glared at him for a moment. Then he admitted, "Good point. Which means he's likely to order its destruction without the services of the Luftwaffe. In other words: here, by us."

"Well, then, I guess that's what we're going to have to do," von Gradny-Sawz said solemnly. "Destroy it here, on the ground."

Cranz glowered at him for a long moment but in the end did not reply directly. Instead, he turned to von Wachtstein.

"What I'm having trouble understanding, Major von Wachtstein, is why the arrival of this airplane, this whole business of Argentina getting an aircraft capable of flying across the Atlantic Ocean, came as such a surprise to you."

"I'm not sure I understand the question, Herr Cranz," von Wachtstein replied.

"Your mother-in-law is a member of the board of directors of South American Airways, is she not?"

"Yes, sir, she is, but--"

Cranz shut him off with a raised hand.

"And Herr Duarte, whose son died a hero at Stalingrad, and who is reliably reported--by Ambassador von Lutzenberger, now that I think about it--to have said he has come to look upon you as a son, is also a member of that board, is he not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you heard nothing of this at all from either of them? Is that what you're saying?"

"The first I heard anything at all about what happened yesterday was when Senor Duarte telephoned me to say that something was going on at the airport--SAA's private airport, Aeropuerto Jorge Frade--at five o'clock. Duarte had no idea what, but said that Senor Frade had suggested I be invited."

"Senor Frade suggested to Senor Duarte that you be invited?"

"That's what I was told, sir."

"That was very courteous of him," Cranz said sarcastically.

"I think he wanted to rub my nose in it, Herr Cranz."

"Excuse me?"

"When Frade returned from California, after getting the SAA pilots their certificates, or licenses, or whatever they had to have to get insurance, Senora de Carzino-Cormano gave a dinner--a supper, to be precise--at Estancia Santa Catalina. Frade made a point of telling me that he had seen the Constellation aircraft at the Lockheed factory."

"Why would he want to do that?" von Gradny-Sawz asked.

"I think it was to annoy my sister-in-law."

"I was there," Boltitz said, smiling. "Senorita Isabela de Carzino-Cormano is--how do I say this?--a great admirer of Lufthansa Kapitan Dieter von und zu Aschenburg. As soon as Frade began extolling the merits of the Constellation, Senorita Isabela leapt to defend the Condor. She called upon von Wachtstein for support, and, ever the gentleman, von Wachtstein did so.

"I don't think I understand," Cranz said.

"When Frade said the Constellation flew at so many kph, von Wachtstein assured everyone that the Condor was fifty kph faster; when Frade said the Constellation could fly at ten thousand meters, von Wachtstein said the Condor routinely flew at twelve thousand meters . . ."

"Everyone at the table had seen the Condor, Herr Cranz," von Wachtstein said. "No one had seen even a picture of the Constellation."

"Von Wachtstein made Frade look the fool," Boltitz said. "No one believed him."

"As well they shouldn't have. Americans are notorious for their boasting," von Gradny-Sawz offered.

"Unfortunately, Gradny-Sawz," Boltitz said, "the Constellation is everything Frade said it was. And when Frade saw the chance to get his revenge on von Wachtstein, he took it."

"Which, of course, he may now have, on reflection, regretted," von Wachtstein said. "Once I was invited out there, he could hardly tell me not to take photographs."

Cranz, who had not looked at von Wachtstein's photographs before, now went to von Lutzenberger's desk and picked up one of the stacks. He went through it carefully, then picked up the second stack and examined each of them.

"I now see what you mean, von Wachtstein," he said. "I thought I was going to see--how shall I put this?--postcard views of that airplane, like those in the press. Your photographs are of technical features, parts of the airplane. I can see where they would be of great value to an aeronautical engineer."

"That's what I intended to do, Herr Cranz."

"If what I just said sounded something like an apology, von Wachtstein . . ."

"No apology is necessary, Herr Cranz, and none was expected, sir."

"An apology is called for, and you may consider that one has been offered."

"I can only repeat, sir, that no apology is necessary."

"Indulge me, von Wachtstein. Accept my apology."

"Yes, sir."

"When is the next Condor flight due here?" Cranz asked.

"Either tomorrow or the day after," Boltitz said.

"And will return to Germany when?"

"If weather permits, they usually leave as soon as they can after forty-eight hours."

"Between now and then," Cranz said to von Wachtstein, "you--and Loche--will be up to your ears in those chemicals you spoke of. I want four copies of each photograph--in addition to the sets you have already made."

"Yes, sir."

"Three sets of these will go to Berlin on the Condor," Cranz announced. "One for General Galland and the second for Reichsmarschall Goring and the third for Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler."

"May I suggest a fourth set, Herr Cranz, for Canaris?" Boltitz said.

"Why not?" Cranz replied. "Make five sets, von Wachtstein."

"Yes, sir."

"Let me confess that I am being political," Cranz said. "I think we would all agree that the only officer who will do something useful with them is General Galland. Well, perhaps Canaris can find something useful in them. The Reichsmarschall gets a set because he would be uncomfortable if the Fuhrer asks him about this airplane and he knew little or nothing about it. And the Reichsfuhrer gets a set because I think when the Fuhrer orders the destruction of this aircraft, he is going to turn again to the SS. If the SS could so successfully liberate Il Duce . . .

"If that is the case, the Reichsfuhrer will lay that responsibility on me. When that happens--and I confidently predict it will--I am, we are, going to be ready. We will have plans prepared to destroy all three of this aircraft, on the ground or in the air.

"Our assistant attache for air is obviously the best-qualified person to do this. The task is herewith assigned to him. Sturmbannfuhrer . . . excuse me, Deputy Commercial Counselor Raschner will lend his talents to the operation, which I of course will supervise.

"Has anyone any comments?"

No one had.

IX.

[ONE].

Office of the Assistant Military Attache for Air

The Embassy of the German Reich

Avenida Cordoba

Buenos Aires, Argentina

1130 24 September 1943

Commercial Attache Karl Cranz pushed open the door to Assistant Military Attache for Air Major Hans-Peter von Wachtstein's office without knocking.

He found Kapitan Dieter von und zu Aschenburg sitting on a small couch and holding a cup of coffee. Von Wachtstein was sitting at his desk, his feet resting on an open lower desk drawer.

"Aschenburg, Untersturmfuhrer Schneider tells me you have one of the diplomatic pouches," he accused without any preliminaries.

"I did have one of them," von und zu Aschenburg said evenly. "Actually, I had all of them. I gave all but one to your untersturmfuhrer."

"You can give it to me," Cranz said. "Right now."

"I can't do that. Ambassador von Lutzenberger has it."

"The ambassador has it?" Cranz asked dubiously.

"Would you like to see the acknowledgment of receipt he signed?"

Cranz nodded.

Von und zu Aschenburg produced a small printed form and showed it to him.

Cranz examined it carefully. He then said, "The standard procedure here is that SS-Untersturmfuhrer Schneider takes possession of all diplomatic pouches at the airport."

"I'm just a simple servant of the state, Herr Cranz," von und zu Aschenburg said on the edge of sarcasm. "When an obersturmbannfuhrer wearing the cuff band of the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler comes into my cockpit at Tempelhof, takes one of the pouches--there were a half-dozen--and tells me that this one is from Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler and that I am to give it personally to Ambassador von Lutzenberger--and to no one else--I try very hard to do just that. I didn't think I needed give your untersturmfuhrer an explanation. I just told him not to worry, I had it."

As if a switch had been thrown, Cranz's arrogant annoyance was suddenly replaced with smiling charm.

He handed the receipt back to von und zu Aschenburg with a smile.

"I'm glad you didn't give an explanation invoking the Reichsfuhrer to Schneider. He probably would have pissed his pants." He smiled again, then went on, "I didn't mean to jump on you, Aschenburg. But we have been expecting that pouch from Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler, and when it wasn't among the others . . . Well, you understand."

"Not a problem," von und zu Aschenburg said. "I understand."

"Nevertheless, I apologize."

Von und zu Aschenburg made an It's unnecessary gesture.

"We expected you yesterday," Cranz said. "Something went wrong?"

"Headwinds," von und zu Aschenburg said.

"Pardon me?"

"When we shot our position just before the fuel gauges indicated half remaining, we weren't nearly as far across the Atlantic as we should have been. I turned back. And tried again last night."

"Would you explain what you just said? 'Shot our position'? What does that mean?"

"Did you ever notice, on the Condor, that there is a sort of plastic bubble on the fuselage? Just over the rear of the flight deck?"

"No," Cranz said with a chuckle. "I confess I haven't."

"Are you really interested in all this, Herr Cranz? Any of it?"

"Fascinated."

"Okay. In exactly the same way as the master of a ship shoots the stars with a sextant . . ."

The door opened again. This time it was Fraulein Ingeborg Hassell, von Lutzenberger's secretary.

"The ambassador would like to see you, Herr Cranz."