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“He was also a businessman. He owned the Porzellan Manufaktur Allach, which manufactured not only what one might expect, but also porcelain busts of Adolf Hitler, which good Germans were expected to buy at a stiff price and display on their mantelpieces. The factory was next to the Dachau concentration camp, which provided its labor force.”

“Jesus Christ!” Cronley muttered.

“At the risk of repeating myself, Super Spook, you ain’t heard nothing yet,” Cohen said. “Diebitsch also designed the gold Totenkopfring that Himmler awarded to SS officers and enlisted men who somehow pleased him. I think it was the SS equivalent of our Army Commendation Medal, as they were passed out by the tens of thousands.

“In 1938, at Himmler’s order, the Totenkopfrings of SS personnel who had died—the custom was to take the rings from the corpses of the deceased just before burial, so they could be suitably framed and proudly displayed by the family next to the bust of Hitler—were ordered to be sent to Wewelsburg and stored in a ceremonial chest. This was to symbolize the deceased’s perpetual membership in the SS-Order. There were approximately twelve thousand such rings. My men have so far been unable to find them.”

“Your men?” Hessinger asked.

“My men, Friedrich,” Cohen confirmed. “The ones who ran you off. They are now the custodians of Wewelsburg.”

“And what, I have to ask, does military government think about that?” Cronley asked. “The CIC detachment in charge of protecting the Tribunal taking over Castle Wewelsburg two hundred odd miles away?”

“They are curious and I suspect displeased. But so far General Greene has been able to keep the situation under control,” Cohen replied. “As I said, the rings are gold. Twelve thousand rings represent a lot of gold.

“One scenario is that as soon as the rings got to Wewelsburg, they were melted down and turned, so to speak, into pocket money for Himmler and friends. The upper ranks of the SS were filled with crooks. Reinhard Heydrich, for example, was cashiered from the Navy for conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. And then there’s that business of ransoming Jews from concentration camps.”

“What?” Ziegler asked.

“Super Spook, since you know about that, you have the floor,” Cohen said. “Until I return from the restroom.”

“What if I have to go, too?”

“You will have to control your bladder until I return. Rank hath its privileges.”

When the bathroom door was closed, Ziegler asked, “Boss, what was he talking about?”

“SS officers, or people working for the SS, would go to rich Jews in London, or New York, wherever, and tell them for a price Uncle Max and family could be taken from Dachau or some other concentration camp and moved to Argentina.”

“How did they manage to do that?”

“I got this from El Jefe and Cletus Frade,” Cronley said. “What happened was Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein, the acting military attaché at the German embassy in Buenos Aires—”

“Von Wachtstein? The SAA pilot we saw in Berlin when we were getting Mattingly back?” Ziegler asked incredulously.

“One and the same. Hansel tipped Cletus—the OSS—when a German submarine was going to show up at Samborombón Bay south of Buenos Aires carrying some people—SS types—they wanted to smuggle into Argentina, plus chests full of English pounds, Swiss francs, dollars, and gold and jewels.

“It was part of Operation Phoenix, building a sanctuary for high-level Nazis. The plan was that if Germany lost, they would make their way to Argentina, wait until things cooled down, and then rise—phoenixlike—from the ashes of the Third Reich.

“Anyway, when the sub arrived, Clete, and a bunch of gauchos from his estancia, all ex-soldiers, were waiting for it. They grabbed the sub and everybody around. The prisoners were then interrogated. By us and by an Argentine officer, Bernardo Martín, who ran—still runs—BIS, the Argentine OSS and FBI combined.

“Cutting to the chase, the SS guys quickly started to sing like canaries.”

“Really? They caved right away?” Ziegler asked.

“Apparently, after watching one of their number being dragged feetfirst across the pampas behind a gaucho on a horse,” Cronley explained, “they became cooperative. The BIS has interesting interrogation techniques.

“Anyway, they fessed up all the details of Operation Phoenix, plus all the details of the ransom operation.

“The way that worked was once the ransom had been paid, a couple of mid-level—the equivalent of field-grade officers—SS officers would go to a concentration camp and tell the SS commandant that they had come for prisoners So and So, who were to be interrogated in Berlin.

“They would then take them to Spain, where they would be loaded on neutral ships bound for Argentina.”

“So the OSS was able to shut down the scam?” Ziegler asked.

“No. The decision about what to do about it went all the way to the top, to President Roosevelt. Roosevelt decided that if we shut it down, all the Jews in the concentration camps would end up in the ovens. Thousands of them. So it ran until the end of the war.”

“Jesus,” Ziegler said. “What happened to all the Phoenix money on the sub?”