Loche fancied himself a loyal German, honored to make whatever contri-bution he could to the furtherance of German Nationalism as defined by Der F?hrer Adolf Hitler. He was thus deeply appreciative of the generosity of an important man like Standartenf?hrer Josef Goltz of the SS-SD, manifested in Goltz's offer to send G?nther to Stuttgart. It never entered his mind that Goltz could entertain an ulterior motive.
Peter's contempt for Herr Gustav Loche grew at first, as the idiot prattled on and on while the Coronel Gasparo moved down the shoreline of the River Plate into the ever-widening mouth of the estuary; but gradually, the contempt turned to pity.
They weren't bad people, he realized, simply stupid. The father obviously loved the son and presumably had Christian morals. For instance, even though it was financially difficult for him-as he proudly informed Peter-he saw to it that G?nther had a Catholic education under the good Jesuit fathers in San Car-los de Bariloche, as opposed to the free, secular education offered by the gov-ernment.
It therefore followed, Peter reasoned, that Gustav Loche would be outraged if he became aware that the Nazis were rounding up human beings in Russia and forcing them to dig pits, and then standing them on the edge of those pits and shooting them in such a way that their dead and dying bodies fell back into them... not to mention gassing women and children by the thousands.
But Loche was unable to accept that anything like this was possible. He regarded as Anglo-American propaganda the stories about concentration camps and death squads and the rest of it that had begun to appear in newspapers and on the radio, ludicrous tales the Allies designed to keep the world in the hands of the Jews from whom the F?hrer intended to rescue it.
Thus it would simply be beyond Gustav Loche's ability to comprehend that the benevolent Standartenf?hrer Goltz was involved in a scheme wherein peo-ple who had done nothing to harm Germany (yet were nevertheless being starved to death-or awaiting murder-in Nazi extermination camps) could, on payment of a sum of money, be released. Much less could he realize that the money raised was to be used to buy sanctuary for high-level Nazis so they would escape being called to account for their monstrous crimes when the war was lost.
Neither could Loche believe that the so correct Oberst Gr?ner and the so charming Gradny-Sawz could also be involved in such a fantastically evil un-dertaking.
Loche saw himself simply as a good, patriotic German doing all he could for the Thousand Year Reich. Of course, in its gratitude for his loyalty, the Thousand Year Reich was going to advance him the money to expand his busi-ness, acquire an estancia, and send his beloved son to the Fatherland to further his education.
To his surprise, Peter found with little difficulty the mouth of the harbor at Magdalena, and then the pier of the fisherman-Lothar Steuben, another good, loyal, expatriate German who was going to charter his boat to Oberst Gr?ner. By then Peter had decided that while Loche and his son could not really be held accountable for what they were doing, Standartenf?hrer Goltz-and by exten-sion, all Nazis-could. And there was no longer any question in his mind whether what he would do next was honorable or not.
The problem then beca
me how.
Steuben, a large sunburned man, was a second-generation Argentinian whose family came from near Hamburg. If anything he was more obsequious than Gustav Loche.
He conducted everyone to his small but comfortable home overlooking the harbor. There his wife had laid out coffee and pastry. After introductions-she was a stout woman with blond hair braided and coiled at her ears and she was holding a child on each hip, which made her look like one of the oil paintings Hitler had commissioned to honor Fertile German Womanhood-she shyly in-quired if the Herr Baron happened to like sauerbraten, which is what she had prepared for supper. He told her he did.
Despite his promise to contact Peter by six, there was no word from Gr?ner. And there was none by seven, or by eight. By the time the sauerbraten was eaten, Peter began to wonder whether something had gone wrong.
Maybe the Americans decided the smartest thing to do was sink the Oceano Pacifico before she got into Argentine waters? The Spanish would howl in out-rage, but what could they actually do about it9 Send another division to the Eastern Front? Bomb Washington, D.C. ?
At 8:25, the telephone rang.
"Herr Baron Major," Steuben said, handing the telephone to Peter. "It is Herr Oberst Gr?ner."
Peter took the telephone and said one word: "Yes?"
"I doubt if it would do any good, Peter," Gr?ner said. "But when we get off the line, why don't you see if you can't at least ask him to consider the possi-bility that sometimes people listen to other people's telephone calls?"
"I'll certainly do that."
"He has a map," Gr?ner said. "Tell him to bring it to you."
"One moment," Peter said, covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and asked Steuben for "the map."
"Apparently what you asked for is being stored under the bed," Peter re-ported. "But I am promised it will appear momentarily."
"Ach, Gott! How was your ride down there? Get plenty of fresh air? Your mount didn't throw you?"
"Actually it was very pleasant. The horses ran well, and G?nther was only slightly sick to his stomach. He hasn't had much chance to do much riding."
Steuben appeared with a map, a sheet of paper, and a freshly sharpened pencil.
Without explanation, Gr?ner gave a list of letters and numbers, which Pe-ter wrote down. He then compared these with the map, the markings on which had been changed.
"That make sense to you, Peter?" Gr?ner asked.
Obviously, he had been given the position where the Comerciante del Oceano Pacifico had been ordered to drop anchor in Samboromb¢n Bay.
"Yes."