"Oh, yes. Many times. When he hung my Knight's Cross on me, he told me I was the future of Germany. Fascinating man. Charming. Spend ten minutes in his presence, and you'd volunteer to follow him into Hell. Which is, of course, what has happened to a lot of people. They have done just that."
"The Commander in Chief of the Luftwaffe didn't find you attractive, Pe-ter? Or did he?"
Peter smiled. "I'm sure he did. Why not? I'm a handsome fellow."
"Jesus!"
"My father is on the OKW staff," Peter said, turning serious. "Making ad-vances to me might have had consequences. Goring, and others like him, gen-erally leave the aristocracy and the officer class alone. They have thousands of others to choose from."
"If this guy, Goltz, is connected to Bormann and... what was the other one's name?"
"Himmler," Peter said, his tone making it clear he found it odd Clete could not remember the name. "I take your point. Between those two, anything could be arranged in Germany. But why? They all have more money than they know what to do with. What would they do with more money if they had it?"
"Buy property in Argentina," Clete said. "Wait a minute...."
Peter looked at him curiously.
"Why would they want to buy property here?" Clete asked. "Think about it."
Peter looked at him without comprehension.
"You tell me," he said, finally.
"Why are you buying property here?"
"So that something can be salvaged from the ashes," Peter said.
"You just said your F?hrer is no fool. Maybe he's figured out he's already lost the war and is looking for a place to go when it's over."
Peter considered that.
"If he wanted to do that-just for the sake of argument-he'd simply send money to von Lutzenberger and tell him to buy property."
"There would be a record of that," Clete said. "Roosevelt and Churchill called for unconditional surrender at the Casablanca Conference. We would find the records of something like that, declare that it was property of the for-mer German government, and therefore belonged to us."
Peter considered that a long moment.
"I'm not
saying that's impossible, but it's hard to believe."
"I find it hard to believe that the Commander in Chief of the Luftwaffe is a drug addict and a faggot who goes around seducing his pilots dressed up like Robin Hood."
Peter looked at him again for a long moment, and Clete saw acceptance come into his eyes.
"I'll see what I can find out."
"If I'm right, that means that you and Uncle Humberto will have to be damned careful to make sure what you're doing here isn't lumped together with the Nazi property."
"I'll see what I can find out," Peter repeated.
"When are you going back?"
"Tonight," Peter said. "Von Lutzenberger said Goltz will probably want to go to Uruguay first thing Monday morning. I told you he wants me to fly him over in the Storch.
"When are you coming back?"
"Maybe the same day. But I'd bet no later than Tuesday."