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Martín said: “One thought that occurred to me is that if there was an important Nazi—or Nazis, plural—who wished to spare themselves a long and hazardous trip on a submarine to come here . . .”

“They could come in the comfort that SAA offers to all its passengers?” Clete finished for him.

“It’s a thought,” Martín said.

“Bernardo, did you hear the rumor that Hitler did not kill himself and his wife, but was flown out of Berlin in a Fieseler Storch?”

“Delgano mentioned that he’d heard that,” Martín said. “Do you believe it?”

“No, I don’t. But this thought of yours makes sense.”

“Are you going to try to see General Gehlen while you’re in Germany?” Martín asked, and then, before Clete could answer, went on: “Maybe he would have some thoughts on all this.”

“No one seems to know where he is, but I’m going to try to find him.”

“To what end?”

“I’ll play that card when someone deals it,” Clete said. “We made a deal with him. Nobody’s told me the deal is off.”

“Bring him here?”

“If that’s the only option to keep him out of the hands of the Russians.”

“He’d have a Vatican passport?”

“The others traveled that way.”

“Clete,” Delgano said, “Peralta just showed up; looks like he’s headed here.”

Captain Mario Peralta was a member of the second crew. If he had had any questions about First Officers von Wachtstein and Boltitz replacing the SAA pilots originally scheduled for the flight, Clete hadn’t heard about them. That suggested to Clete that Peralta was taking his orders from Gonzalo Delgano both as an SAA pilot and as somebody else who also worked covertly for Martín.

“It would appear that your mission of mercy and compassion is ready to go,” Martín said.

“You told me one time you had a man in Berlin,” Frade said.

Martín nodded.

“José Ruiz,” he said. “We were at the Academy together.”

“He’s the military attaché?”

“The financial counselor,” Martín said.

“And he’ll be coming back with us?”

Martín nodded again.

“He might be useful,” Frade said.

“So I told Gonzalo,” Martín said. “Anything else I can do?”

“As a matter of fact,” Frade said, and handed him the briefcase he’d gotten from Colonel Flowers. “I forgot to leave my wife her allowance. Would you get this to her, please?”

Martín took the briefcase. It was much heavier than he expected.

“What’s in here besides her allowance—bricks?”

“Nothing. I’m probably more generous to my wife than you are to yours.”