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[FIVE]

Apartment 4-C

1044 Calle Talcahuano

Buenos Aires, Argentina

0020 21 October 1945

“Very well,” Ludwig Mannhoffer said into the telephone receiver. “Now get back to the airport and see what else might develop. Call me at whatever hour if something significant, I repeat, significant happens. Otherwise, call me about half past eight.”

He broke the connection then, put the receiver in its base, and turned to Körtig.

“Gerhard, I think we can now get some sleep. I think, based on that last report, that everything of interest to us at Aeropuerto Coronel Frade has happened.”

“Specifically?”

“Well, the convoy with the Storch left several hours ago—we knew that. Kramer just reported that the three aircraft—the big Lockheed—”

“The Constellation?” Körtig asked.

“The four-engine Constellation,” Mannhoffer confirmed, “and the two smaller—two-engine—Lockheeds, the red Lodestar and a South American Airways Lodestar, have all taken off, all fully loaded.”

“Tell me about the red Lodestar. What’s that all about?”

“There’s a story going around—I don’t know how true it is—that it was a gift from the American President, Roosevelt, to Oberst Frade. Anyway, now it’s Oberstleutnant Frade’s personal airplane.”

“It must be nice to be rich enough to have your own personal airliner,” Körtig said.

“Well, if we can conclude the deal about the uranium oxide, I think you could consider getting your own airliner.”

“That’s an interesting thought, indeed,” Körtig said, then asked, “We don’t really know where these airplanes are headed, do we?”

“We know the Lodestars are going to Mendoza. The Constellation may be headed for Brazil or the United States—its passengers include all the women and children. They may be being taken out of Argentina for their protection. But I think it, too, is headed to Mendoza. That mountaintop fortress of his is as good a place to protect people as one can find.”

“Why did he build a mountaintop fortress, do you suppose?”

“Now, understand I’m getting this second- and thirdhand. Oberst Klausberger, who now commands the Tenth Mountain Regiment, told me that Oberst Schmidt, who commanded the regiment before Frade shot him—”

“Frade’s father, or the one we’re dealing with?”

“Ours. Klausberger told me that Schmidt told him it didn’t start out to be a fortress. The original house was built by an uncle of Oberst Frade as sort of a love nest to go with the vineyard. His name was Guillermo Frade. The place and the vineyard are known as Estancia Don Guillermo. It’s great wine, incidentally. The Don Guillermo Cabernet Sauvignon is marvelous! Anyway, Guillermo was apparently a hell of a gambler. He almost lost the estancia betting on the wrong horse. His father got him out of trouble, but took the estancia and the house across from the racetrack away from him and gave it to his other son—‘our’ Frade’s father. He had just married and so built a magnificent house on the mountain. Then she died, and he never went back. But the place was used to stage that coup d’état in 1942. They cached arms there, held secret meetings, that sort of thing. Frade was then commanding the Húsares de Pueyrredón and he put them to work fortifying the place. He went so far as to blast a runway out of the mountain that those little American planes—Cubs?—could use.”

“Piper Cubs. They can’t hold a candle to a Storch of course, but the Americans used them successfully to direct artillery fire, that sort of thing.”

“That’s the plane he built a runway for. Then, after Oberst Grüner sent the colonel to whatever Valhalla the Argentines use, and the son took over, he fortified and expanded the place even more. He’s got all of General Gehlen’s people living up there now.”

“What are we going to do about Gehlen?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we’re finished crossing the one we’re on,” Mannhoffer said. “Anyway, Klausberger told me Schmidt told him that he had reconnoitered the place with the idea of taking it and maybe killing Frade in the process. Schmidt decided it couldn’t be taken without an unacceptable loss of troops.”

“Then how are we going to eliminate Frade and the traitors?”

“It’s forty kilometers from the airport to the estancia. Most of that is curving roads through the foothills of the Andes. We find out when one of their little convoys is carrying Frade and at least two of the others to or from the airport, and we shoot up the convoy from such point as you select in the next couple of days with Oberst Klausberger’s expert assistance.

“Which means I suggest we go to bed. Your train to San Martín de los Andes leaves the Retiro station at five past eight. And you don’t want to oversleep and miss it, do you?”

“No, I really don’t. I have to tell you, Ludwig, I’m actually looking forward to this operation.”