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“So, what do I do? Go to Washington, knock on Morgenthau’s door, and say, ‘I understand you’re looking for me’?”

“The military attaché in Buenos Aires, whom I believe you know, has told the Secret Service that he also believes you have been involved with helping Nazis get to Argentina. He also told them that you have received large amounts of money—more than six million dollars—from Colonel Graham, which you have refused to discuss with him, and that he suspects this is somehow connected with finding refuge for Nazis in Argentina. These charges are to be investigated by Naval Intelligence.”

“Jesus H. Christ!”

“The military attaché, his name is Flowers—”

“Richmond C. Flowers. I know the miserable bastard’s name.”

“—as the OSS station chief in Buenos Aires will be ordered by Director Donovan to present you with orders issued by the Navy Department to board the next U.S. Navy vessel calling at Buenos Aires—it will be a destroyer, the USS Bartram Greene, due to arrive in Buenos Aires June ninth—for transport to the Naval Air Station at Pensacola, Florida, where the charges laid against you will be investigated to determine if a court-martial is appropriate.”

“How the hell do you know all that?”

“While you will indeed be hanging in the wind, Colonel Frade, you will not be entirely alone.”

“That’s pretty fucking cryptic. It sounds like you don’t entirely trust me.”

“This is one of those situations where the less you know about friends of the OSS, the safer it will be for them.”

“What about Donovan? What does he know about Gehlen?”

“Dulles and/or Graham is going to have to tell him, if one of them hasn’t already.”

“The destroyer ride is to kill time, right?”

“Every hour I have to hide Gehlen and his people, the better,” Mattingly said. “By the way, the general has been arrested by the CIC and is currently undergoing interrogation. Just as soon as I can tear myself away from the duties here, I will go to Oberusel and interrogate Gehlen myself. Slowly and thoroughly.”

“And the reason you’re in Berlin, not in that castle, is because you need permission—and a reason—to come to Berlin, and the Secret Service doesn’t want to come out and say they want to come to Berlin to interrogate you—the head of the OSS—about the OSS helping Nazis to get to Argentina?”

“Oh, you can be clever, can’t you, Colonel Frade?”

[ONE]

Executive Officers’ Quarters USS Bartram Greene DD-201 River Plate Estuary, Argentina 1900 12 June 1945

There came a knock at the stateroom door. Lieutenant Colonel Cletus H. Frade, USMC, who was lying on the bunk, called, “Come!”

A very tall, very thin, ascetic-looking lieutenant commander opened the door and entered the stateroom.

Frade put down his copy of that day’s Buenos Aires Herald and looked at him.

The visitor said evenly, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Colonel, but I believe naval courtesy requires that all naval personnel come to attention when the captain of a man-o’-war enters a living space, even when said captain is junior.”

Frade chuckled and pushed himself off the bunk.

“Until just now, Commander, I didn’t know you were the captain.”

“I have that honor, sir. My name is R. G. Prentiss, and I am the captain.”

Frade nodded.

Captain Prentiss said: “Colonel, we have a somewhat awkward situation here. I have been ordered by COMMATL—”

“By who?”

“Commander Atlantic,” Captain Prentiss furnished, “has ordered the Greene to transport you to NAS Pensacola. Colonel Flowers has informed me that you are the subject of an investigation by Naval Intelligence. Is that your understanding of the situation?”

“That pretty much sums it up.”