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Both had been in San Carlos de Bariloche for the same purpose, to acquire real estate to house Germans for whom the Fatherland was about to be no longer hospitable. Von Deitzberg had come secretly by submarine to Argentina to implement OPERATION PHOENIX, which would see the senior Nazi leadership find sanctuary in Argentina, and start the process by which National Socialism would rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes of the Thousand-Year Reich.

The SS had no idea of the deal struck between General Gehlen and Allen W. Dulles, and if von Deitzberg learned of it, everyone connected with Abwehr Ost still in Germany and Russia—and most of its personnel were still there in the spring of 1943—would be arrested, tortured, and executed.

Niedermeyer the next day told Clete of the encounter, and that he had taken the only action appropriate to the situation: He had used the Ballester-Molina .45 to eliminate SS-Brigadeführer von Deitzberg. He said he was sure he was “gone” as he had shot him twice in the face. And, no, he added, the police were not looking for him.

“Like you, Colonel,” Niedermeyer had said, “I’m a professional.”

After that, Clete had felt much safer in trusting Niedermeyer and had turned over to him just about all of the responsibility for dealing with both the Good Gehlens and the Nazi Gehlens. And when Niedermeyer asked to borrow three-quarters of a million dollars to purchase the estancia he had seen near San Carlos de Bariloche, Clete handed him packages of crisp new one-hundred-dollar bills two days later.

Clete had also dipped into “the money in the safe” for other purposes. For example, he had built the building everyone called The BOQ with it, and used it to fortify the mountaintop, and paid and equipped his private army of ex–Húsares de Pueyrredón. They, after all, were working for the OSS, not for Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.

—

“Now that everyone knows everybody else,” Frade said, “with your kind permission I will continue. Was all that protection at the airport and that convoy here necessary? All those Thompsons scared the hell out of the women.”

“This woman was curious, my darling,” Dorotea said, “not on the edge of hysteria.”

“Okay. Then it scared hell out of me,” Clete said. “Was it necessary?”

“We’ve been under increased surveillance, Clete . . .” Major Ashton began.

“By whom?”

“Well, the only way we can learn that is by asking them,” Niedermeyer said. “And if we do that, they’ll know we know they’re snooping. We thought we’d ask you first before we grab—or dispose of—one or more of them.”

“We suspect, of course,” Frogger said, “that it’s people from the Tenth Mountain. And, letting my imagination run wild, I thought there was at least a possibility that whoever it is might be thinking of attacking our people while they’re on the road between here and the airport.”

“I can’t imagine who they might want to do that to,” Clete said sarcastically. He turned to Captain Garcia. “Alfredo, how angry do you think General Martín would be if he heard I told these people you’re actually Teniente Coronel Garcia and the Number Three at BIS?”

“Livid,” Garcia said, shaking his head and smiling.

“Then I guess I’d better not tell them, huh? We know none of them can keep a secret. So tell me, Captain Garcia, what you would do about these people who are spying on us with an eye to ambushing us?”

“First, I would find out who they are,” Garcia said.

“And how would you do that?”

“I’d arrange for the Gendarmería Nacional to make a r

andom patrol where they were last seen. The gendarmería can question the Ejército—the Policía Federal can’t.”

“And you have acquaintances in the gendarmerie, right?”

“Don Cletus, I’d rather wait until the general gets here,” Garcia said.

“Martín is coming here?” Niedermeyer asked, surprised. “I’d have thought he’d be in the hospital.”

“There’s an SAA Lodestar with Martín and a bunch of his BIS people en route here now,” Frade said. “He had some things to take care of in Buenos Aires. And von Wachtstein is bringing with him Boltitz, von Dattenberg—”

“Willi von Dattenberg?” Niedermeyer said.

Frade nodded, and went on: “And as many of my people who can fit in my Lodestar. One or both of them should be landing within the next thirty minutes or so. So we can wait, Alfredo, until he gets here before we call the gendarmes.”

“The gendarmes are going to be far more receptive to a request from General Martín than they would be to one from Captain Garcia,” Garcia said.

“Understood,” Frade said.

“Whatever is going on seems very interesting,” Niedermeyer said. “Starting with why is von Dattenberg coming here? I would have thought he’d be confined somewhere, or at the very least have been interned with the Graf Spee survivors at Villa General Belgrano.”