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“And there are other examples of your father’s ruthlessness. But those should suffice.

“We have a saying in Spanish—and, if I’m not mistaken, there’s one in German as well—to the effect that the apple never drops far from the tree. . . .”

Willi nodded.

“‘Der Apfel fällt nicht weit vom Stamm,’” he quoted softly. “I thought that’s what this was going to be about.”

“And now that you know, Señor Grüner, your reaction?”

“I hope you didn’t expect me to apologize for my father. I didn’t order the assassination of Cletus’s father, or hire anyone to kill Cletus. He was an SS-SD officer. I think he saw what he did as his duty. I think—and I don’t offer this as an extenuation for his behavior, but possibly an explanation for it—that that obscene personal oath of loyalty to Adolf Hitler had a lot to do with it.”

When Martín didn’t reply immediately, Grüner asked, “Do you know what I’m talking about, General? That holy oath of personal loyalty?”

Martín nodded. “Didn’t you yourself take it?”

“Hansel and I took it, and so did Dieter”—he nodded toward von und zu Aschenburg—“when we were with the Condor Legion in Spain. Hansel and I thought it was one more example of Nazi nonsense.”

He paused.

“I never knew,” he went on, his tone suggesting that he wondered why he had never considered it, “and he certainly never said anything about it, how Dieter, who was then our squadron commander, thought about it.”

It was more a question than a statement, and von und zu Aschenburg answered it.

“I was ordered, General, as squadron commander, to administer that oath to those under my command. It never entered my mind to refuse that order. But I never felt bound by it.”

“I did,” von Dattenberg said. “It wasn’t until I came here that I realized it was, as somebody just said, obscene.”

“Willi,” Boltitz said, “as a U-boat commander, did you ever surface and machine-gun the sailors in the lifeboats of vessels you had just sunk?”

“You know better than that, Karl!” von Dattenberg said.

“The first time either of us, as honorable officers, refused to do that, we broke o

ur holy oath of personal loyalty to the Führer. . . .”

“I really would like to have a lengthy discussion about this subject,” Martín said. “But we’re pressed for time and have to deal with the basic questions.”

“Which are?” Cletus Marcus Howell said, admitting his confusion.

“Will Señor Grüner be willing to risk his life in the service of the Argentine Republic? His new country—”

“Doing what, General?” Willi asked.

“Anything we ask you,” Martín said.

“Yes,” Grüner said.

“Why?”

It took Grüner a long time to put his thoughts into words.

“Because it’s the only country I have, and I don’t want it taken over by either Nazis or Communists.”

“That’s not the answer I expected,” Martín said.

“What did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t that. Now the second question. And this one is for you, Cletus, as both the son of your father and as Lieutenant Colonel Frade of the OSS: Can we trust him, the son of the man who ordered the killing of your father?”