And he had done so. And had kept his seat without getting bitten.
They had ridden out to Casa Numero Cincuenta y Dos, where Lieutenant Oscar Schultz, USNR--who of course had driven, not ridden, out there--had proudly shown Nervo how the radar functioned, and introduced the gendarme to the rest of the team.
And now Nervo and Frade were back at the big house, enjoying what Clete had described to Nervo as the sacred Texas tradition of "having a little sip to cut the dust of the trail."
After a short time, there was the sound of a vehicle approaching, and they watched Schultz drive up at the wheel of a Ford Model A pickup truck.
Nervo gestured toward Schultz, who wore full gaucho regalia.
"I'm having trouble believing that," Nervo said. "He never rides?"
"Never," Frade confirmed. "When he was a kid, he went on a pony ride, and when he got off, the pony stepped on his foot. He swore he would never get on anything with four legs again, and he hasn't."
"Hola, Jefe," Nervo called cheerfully, and waved.
Then he said: "That isn't the only thing I'm having trouble believing."
"Excuse me?"
"Wait until el Jefe 'dismounts,' " Nervo said, and reached for the bottle of scotch. "I want him to hear this."
Schultz climbed down from the pickup and came onto the verandah. He pulled up a wicker chair, reached for the bourbon, poured himself a steep drink, announced, "In my professional opinion as an officer of the Naval Service, the sun is over the yardarm," took a healthy sip, and then added, "Even down here in Gaucholand."
Clete chuckled and said, "You better tell General Nervo what you mean."
"Cletus, please, 'Santiago,' " Nervo said.
"Me too?" Schultz asked.
"Of course you too," Nervo said.
Why do I not think he's not just schmoozing us?
Why was I not surprised that Nervo and Schultz had immediately taken to each other?
We're the same kind of people?
I think deciding to come clean with Nervo and Martin was probably the smartest thing I've done in the last six months.
"Well, Santiago," Schultz began, "in the old days in the North Atlantic, on sailing ships, at about eleven o'clock in the morning, the sun would rise above the yardarm. That's that horizontal spar"--he demonstrated with his hands--"that's mounted on the mast."
Nervo nodded his understanding.
"Which meant," Schultz went on, "that the officers could go to the wardroom and have a little sip to give them the courage to face the rest of the day."
"Fascinating," Nervo said, chuckling. "May I say something about the way you're dressed, Jefe?"
"Of course," Schultz said, just a little warily.
"As one professional officer to another," Nervo said, "your gaucho costume is complete except for one small detail."
"What's that?"
"I was raised on an estancia in Patagonia," Nervo said. "And never can I remember a gaucho who did not have, very close by--"
"She's visiting her mother," Schultz interrupted, smiling knowingly. "She should be back sometime today."
Nervo literally convulsed; he stood up, spilled his drink, and then, laughing heartily, wrapped his arm around Schultz.
They're buddies, delighted with themselves!
When Nervo finally sat down and was pouring himself another drink, Frade said, "Santiago, tell Casanova what it is that you are also having a hard time believing."
Nervo pointed with his glass at one of the manager's houses, into which the Mollers and the Kortigs and their families had been taken. Clete knew that both Dorotea and Claudia were there "to help with the children" and also that there were enough peones discreetly watching the house to make sure everything remained under control.
"Something smells with those two," Nervo said.
Schultz met his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly.
That's interesting. What have I missed that these two see?
"Look, Cletus," Nervo said, as if he'd read his mind. "I'm a policeman. I'm not like you and Martin, into politics and espionage and all that. Just a simple policeman."
Like hell you're just a simple policeman. You didn't get to be Inspector General of the Gendarmeria by being simple.
What is he doing now? Schmoozing me?
"But . . . ?" Frade said.
"Like most old policemen, I have learned to know when people are lying. And those two are."
"About what?"
Nervo shrugged. "You tell me. What have they got to lie about?"
Clete shrugged.
"They're either not who they say they are," Schultz said, "or they're not telling you something, or both."
"What do you mean, they're not who they say they are?"
Now Schultz shrugged.
"Tell me about this Gehlen guy," Nervo said. "He must be pretty smart, would you say?"
Smart enough to run the Russian Intelligence branch of the Abwehr, and smart enough to deal with Allen Dulles.
Yeah, I'd say he has to be pretty smart.
"He'd have to be," Frade said, "wouldn't he?"
"And he knows about Valkyrie, right?"
Frade sipped his drink, then nodded. "Yeah. Knows about--and is involved in--Valkyrie."
"Which makes a simple policeman like me think Gehlen doesn't think Adolf Hitler is God's sword against the Antichrist, and believes the best thing for Germany is to kill the bastard. Or am I wrong?"
"I think you're absolutely right," Clete said.
"So why did he send Moller?"
"I don't know where you're going," Clete admitted.
"Moller was not lying when he told me I should understand that he considers himself a serving officer who has taken a personal oath of allegiance to Hitler," Nervo said.
"And he made a point of telling you that. And he made a point of telling me that earlier today when we first met," Clete thought aloud. "So what?"
"And this guy comes as a trusted assistant to Gehlen?" Nervo said. "That smells, Cletus."
"What are you suggesting?" Clete asked.
"Well, I'm just a simple policeman, Cletus. But that phone call I made when we first came here, right after we landed?"
"What about it?"
"I told Subinspector General Nolasco to send two of my people to Santa Rosa--that's just about in the middle of the pampas--with orders not to come back until they have the cattle robbers--"
"Rustlers," Clete corrected him without thinking.
Nervo gave him a dirty look, then went on: "--operating down there in handcuffs. They're good people, Cletus, but they like Nazis and don't like Americans, and I didn't want them around to be curious about you and Alejandro and me suddenly becoming good friends. And talking about it."
"You think Gehlen sent Moller here to get rid of him?"
"Maybe to do both things," Nervo said. "To set things up to bring the rest of the Abwehr Ost people here, and to get him out of the way while he works on Valkyrie. But you're the intelligence officer. What do I know?"
What do you know? You knew about Valkyrie, didn't you?
And you didn't have to search your memory very hard to come up with Abwehr Ost, did you?
"You said before that both Moller and Kortig were lying. What's Kortig lying about?"
Schultz now spoke up. "Well, for one thing, I don't think he's really a sergeant major."
Frade looked at him without replying.
Schultz went on: "Clete, I'm certainly no intelligence officer. I spent all my life, from the time I was sixteen until a couple of months ago, as an enlisted sailor. But a lot--most--of that time I was a chief petty officer, and I know another senior noncommissioned officer when I see one, and Kortig ain't one. I have the gut feeling he's the OIC."
"You'll recall, el Jefe," Frade challenged, "that I had to tell you that Jose Cortina, Martin's sergeant major, is really a lieutenant colonel."
Schultz didn't back down.
"I've never seen Cortina, Clete. All I did was talk to him on the telephone--and only a couple of times. If I'd have seen him, he wouldn't be able to pull that sergeant major bullshit on me."
" 'OIC'?" Nervo asked.
" 'Officer-in-Charge.' Or maybe 'Officer-in-Command,' " Clete furnished.
Nervo nodded his agreement and said: "That would make some sense."
"So you think Moller knows?" Clete asked.
"Sure he does," Nervo said.
Schultz nodded his agreement.
"What would all that be about?" Clete asked. "And spare me that I'm Just an Old Chief and Simple Policeman crap."
"If you're watching Moller, you're probably not going to be watching Kortig. Or at least as closely," Schultz said. "If Kortig has another mission, one you don't know about . . ."
"Do you think either one of them knows about Valkyrie?" Clete asked.
"I don't know about Moller," Nervo said. "But I'll bet Kortig does. Gehlen may have sent him here to make sure Moller--if he doesn't already know about Valkyrie--doesn't find out; or if he does, that he doesn't blow the whistle on Valkyrie to the German Embassy or von Deitzberg. You told me Kortig didn't seem all that surprised to hear that von Deitzberg is here."
Schultz was nodding. "Clete, I think you have to find out what the fuck these two Krauts are really up to."
"Yeah," Frade said. He pushed himself out of his chair. "And the sooner the better."
Nervo stood. Clete waited until he had drained his glass, then said, "Tell me, Simple Policeman. In the Gendarmeria, how would you do this? By pulling fingernails?"
Nervo looked at him stonefaced.
"Actually," the inspector general then said, "I've found the best method is to drag people across the pampas behind a horse for fifteen minutes before beginning the interrogation."
[TWO].
Approaching El Plumerillo Airfield
Mendoza, Mendoza Province, Argentina
1410 3 October 1943