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Von Deitzberg turned to the man who was now standing beside von Tresmarck, visibly uncomfortable with the introduction of the pistol.

“You must be Ramón,” von Deitzberg said. “Did you two have a pleasant time in Paraguay, Ramón?”

“Who are you?” Ramón asked.

“You may call me señor,” von Deitzberg said. “Both of you may call me señor. Answer my question, Ramón!”

“Tell him,” von Tresmarck said softly.

“We had quite a nice time, thank you,” Ramón said.

“Did Sturmbannführer von Tresmarck tell you that he was under orders not to leave Uruguay—not even to go to Argentina, much less to Paraguay—without specific permission?”

Inge von Tresmarck came into the sitting room. It was evident to her husband that she was wearing nothing under her bathrobe. She walked to von Deitzberg and sat beside him on the couch.

She’s obviously fucking von Deitzberg.

Well, why not? She was one of the whores in the Hotel Am Zoo and the Adlon. She’d fuck an elephant to save her skin!

“No, he didn’t.”

Von Tresmarck began: “Herr Brigadeführer, I went to Paraguay—”

With a sudden swift motion, von Deitzberg tossed the pistol from his left hand to his right, grabbed the grip, and fired a round into the bookcase beside von Tresmarck and Ramón.

The noise in the confined area was deafening, as von Deitzberg knew it would be. He had also fired enough pistols to know that a 9mm bullet would not go far through a line of books on a shelf. And he knew that when most people hear a gunshot, they decide it is the sound of an automobile engine backfiring.

This time, Inge said, “Scheisse!”

“I would really prefer not to shoot you, Werner,” von Deitzberg said. “But the next time you use my rank or my name, or try to lie to me, I will.”

Everyone—Inge included—was now looking at von Deitzberg with terror in their eyes.

“And if I have to shoot you, it will be necessary for me to shoot Ramón, too. Many times, especially in the face, so that it will look like a lovers’ quarrel, something both the German Embassy and the Uruguayan government will want to quickly cover up.”

He let that sink in.

“You were about to tell me what you were doing in Paraguay, Werner,” he went on finally.

Von Tresmarck, visibly nervous, launched into an elaborate explanation of the trip, saying that he had grown afraid that questions would be asked about all the property he’d already bought in Uruguay, and that Ramón, a business-man, had suggested that they begin making investments in Paraguay.

Von Deitzberg let him finish.

“Ramón,” von Deitzberg then said, “I’m afraid that Werner also forgot that he was under orders not to share any detail of the confidential special fund with anyone. You understand, of course, how your acquiring that knowledge has reduced your chances of staying alive?”

“I have to go to the toilet,” Ramón stammered.

“Certainly,” von Deitzberg said. “But hurry back. And don’t think of running away. Hauptsturmführer Forster is sitting in his car outside. Werner, tell Ramón who Hauptsturmführer Forster is.”

“He’s with the Geheime Staatspolizei,” von Tresmarck said.

“Do you know what the Geheime Staatspolizei is, Ramón?” von Deitzberg asked.

“Please, I have to go to the toilet right now,” Ramón said.

“The Secret State Police. He is under orders to shoot anyone he sees leaving this house without my permission.”

“I understand,” Ramón said. “May I go?”