The Honor Of Spies - The Honor of Spies Part 62
Library

The Honor of Spies Part 62

"Thank you, Claudia," Father Welner said.

"You didn't really think I was going to leave, did you?" Claudia asked. "You know me better than that, Father!"

Frade said: "The fewer people who know about this, Claudia, the better."

"You didn't have to tell me that," she snapped. "My God!"

"Sorry," Clete said.

"So, what happens now?" Claudia asked. "How can I help?"

"Well, as soon as Sister Whatshername and Enrico get back with the clothes, we're going to fly to Casa Montagna."

"Sister Maria Encarnacion," Sister Maria Isabel corrected him icily.

Welner began: "Cletus, I'm certainly not trying to tell you what to do, or how to do it . . ."

"But?"

"Wouldn't it be better to wait until after we get your guests' papers in order?" He turned to Claudia and explained, "Father Pedro has an understanding and discreet friend in the Interior Ministry who's going to provide National Identity booklets for Cletus's guests."

"You better wait until that's done," Claudia agreed, "before you go to Mendoza."

Was that an order, Claudia? It sure sounded like one.

Claudia looked at Father Silva. "How long is that going to take, Father Pedro?"

"About twelve hours after I give my friend the photographs," the priest said. "I have a camera, but I think we should wait until we have the proper clothing."

"Clete?" Schultz asked.

He might as well have popped to attention and said, "Sir, permission to speak?"

Frade motioned for him to go on.

"What kind of photos do we need, Father?"

The priest answered by taking a National Identity booklet from his pocket and showed it to him.

"For women," the priest said, "there is the Libreta Civica. A little smaller, but you get the idea. My friend will provide both."

"In other words, all that's holding us up is the regular clothes?" Schultz asked.

"That and the names to go on the documents," Father Welner said.

"Dorotea," Schultz said, "we can come up with clothes--good enough for ID pictures--for the men. Can you get some clothing for the women and the kids?"

"Not a problem," Dorotea said.

"You have any preference for your new names, Strubel?" Frade asked.

"I think it would be best if we used the Spanish translation of the Christian names," Strubel replied immediately. "And Strubel, if you have no objection, could become Moller, and Niedermeyer, Kortig. Similarly, I would suggest retaining the dates of birth. I am presuming we will all have been born here in Argentina."

He just didn't pull that out of thin air. He's given it some thought.

Why not? He's a professional.

One who probably is looking down his professional nose at this American amateur.

I'm going to have to stay one step ahead of this guy.

And why didn't I think of that before?

"That's fine with me," Clete said.

"And we'll need a sheet for a background, Dorotea," Schultz said.

"And when the pictures have been taken," Clete said, "I'll fly Father Pedro to Buenos Aires in one of the Piper Cubs."

"Is that necessary?" Welner asked.

"The sooner we get the identifications, the sooner I can get everybody out of here," Frade replied.

"Yes, of course," Welner agreed. "Father, if Don Cletus flies you to Buenos Aires, when do you think you could have the identity cards ready?"

"Either late tonight, Father, or first thing in the morning."

"If you can bring the identity cards and meet me at Jorge Frade at, say, nine o'clock, I'll make a, quote, fuel stop, unquote, in the Lodestar on our way to Mendoza."

The priest nodded.

"I'll be there."

It took less time than Clete thought it would--about forty-five minutes--to complete the photography. Rodriguez and the nun had not returned from their clothes-buying expedition.

When the last picture had been taken, Clete motioned for O'Sullivan and Schultz to follow him from the temporary studio in the library out into the foyer.

He closed the door, then asked, "You know how to get in touch with Colonel Martin, right?"

"I know how to get in touch with his sergeant major, a guy named Jose Cortina."

"Good enough. Cortina's really a lieutenant colonel," Clete said. "And he's Martin's deputy. Call him and tell him I'm on my way to Jorge Frade and need to see Martin, really need to see him. Ask him to meet me at the airport. And if at all possible, have General Nervo there, too."

"Cortina's a light colonel?" Schultz asked rhetorically. "Who's General Nervo?"

"He runs the Gendarmeria Nacional."

"One of these days you are going to tell me what the hell's going on, right?"

"Just as soon as I get back from Buenos Aires."

The door from the library opened and Strubel--now Moller--came out. He was wearing a shirt and trousers Schultz had liberated from Rodriguez's wardrobe. They were much too large for him. Clothespins still in place at the back of the collar and on the rear of the suit jacket made them fit well enough for the camera.

"May I have a private word with you, Major Frade?" he asked politely.

"I already told Herr Kortig, Herr Moller, never to use my rank. Please don't do so again. And anything you have to say to me can be said before my men."

Moller considered that and nodded.

"Presumably, you have a means to communicate with either Colonel Graham or Herr Dulles?"

Clete nodded.

"I have a message that I would like to send to either, for transmission to Colonel Gehlen."

"We can arrange that," Clete said. "But Gehlen's another name I don't want used here. Any suggestions, Herr Moller?"

"I never gave that any thought," Moller confessed after a moment.

"Who's Colonel Gehlen?" Schultz asked.

"He runs Russian intelligence for the German General Staff; he's Herr Moller's boss. I'll tell you all about that, too, when I get back from Buenos Aires."

"The first Russian thing that comes to my mind is 'Samovar,'" O'Sullivan offered. "You know, that big tea kettle?"

"Too close," Clete said. "But there's nothing wrong with 'Teapot.' Make it 'Big Teapot' for Gehlen, 'Teapot' for Herr Moller."

"And the other one?" O'Sullivan asked.

"Teacup," Schultz said, smiling.

"Done," Clete said.

"Let's have your message, Herr Teapot," Clete said, smiling. "Just as soon as I get back from Buenos Aires, I'll be in touch with Washington; I'll include your message."

Moller was not amused.

He handed Clete a sheet of paper on which was written a series of characters in five-character blocks. It looked like gibberish, but Clete immediately recognized it for what it was: an encoded message.

"Three things, Herr Moller," Frade said coldly. "One, you are not going to send any messages in code to anybody. I don't want you reporting to Big Teapot anything that you or Teacup might hear or see here unless I know what it is. Two, you will give El Jefe your codebook just as soon as you can. Don't even think of trying to either hide or destroy it . . ."

"This was not my understanding of how things were to be done," Moller said.

"Three, if I learn that you or anyone else has tried to send a message to anyone without my knowledge, I'll have you shot."

Moller looked at him with cold eyes but didn't reply.

"Do we understand each other?" Clete asked.

Moller nodded. "But there is one thing I think you should understand, Herr Frade: Despite the circumstances, I consider myself and Kortig to be soldiers obeying the orders we have been given. Not traitors."

"Consider yourself anything you want to," Clete said. "Just as long as you don't endanger in any way anything I'm doing here."

Again Moller didn't reply.

"But now you've made me curious," Clete went on. "I don't know what Colonel Gehlen has told you about my . . . friends . . . in the German Embassy, but in any event, you'll soon figure out by yourself that I have people in there. What about them? Are they traitors, in your opinion?"

"If they swore the same oath of personal allegiance to Adolf Hitler that I did, the answer is self-evident."

"Then we seem to be agreed to disagree; I consider them to be the opposite: patriots. The bottom line is--"

"Excuse me? 'The bottom line'?"

"What matters," said Clete, "is that when you and I have a disagreement, I win. And if you're unwilling to go along with my winning, I'll have you shot. Now, go get the codebook for El Jefe. We'll talk some more later." He motioned to O'Sullivan with his finger. "Go with him, Jerry. Don't let him out of your sight. And don't hesitate to shoot him if you think that's called for."

"Yes, sir," O'Sullivan said, and motioned for Moller to go back into the library.

When the door was closed, Schultz said thoughtfully, "You meant that about shooting him. It wasn't a bullshit threat."

"I don't know how much . . . what name did we give him? . . . Kortig picked up from what was said when Claudia arrived, or how much he'll tell Moller, but we have to assume the worst. And if the choice is between Peter's life and this Nazi sonofabitch's . . ."

"There is no choice," Schultz agreed. "Well, there's one good thing."

"What?"

"That guy is smart, Clete. But he doesn't have any balls. He's not going to call your bluff."

"You don't think so?"

"It doesn't come out often like it did just now, but when it does, it's really impressive."

"What doesn't come out often?"

"With all possible respect, Major, sir, the major is a stainless-steel hard-ass. And that really got through to Moller. Hell, it even got to me; I was already wondering: What happens to the wives and kids when Clete blows this sonofabitch away? "

"Let's see if we can keep that from happening," Clete said. "Okay, go get Father Pedro. And then call Cortina and tell him about having Martin and Nervo at the airport."

[THREE].

Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade

Moron, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina