“I want to have our baby here, darling. I want to wash him in there, where your mother washed you, and change his nappy with your nappies.”
He tried to ask, “How can you be sure the baby’s a him?”
But only three words came out before he lost his voice, and his chest heaved, and he realized he was crying.
Dorotea went to him, held him against her breast, and stroked his hair.
[FOUR]
Office of the Deputy Director for Western
Hemisphere Op
erations
Office of Strategic Services
National Institutes of Health Building
Washington, D.C.
0720 15 August 1943
A second lieutenant of the U.S. Army Signal Corps was sitting in one of the chairs in the outer office when Colonel A. F. Graham, uncommonly in uniform, came to work—as usual, before his secretary had gotten there.
Lieutenant Leonard Fischer stood and more or less came to attention. He was holding a sturdy leather briefcase. Graham saw that he was attached to the briefcase with a handcuff and chain, and that one of the lower pockets of his uniform blouse sagged—as if, for example, it held a Colt Model 1911A1 .45 ACP pistol.
“Good morning, Fischer,” Graham said as he waved the young officer ahead of him into his office. “Dare I hope we have heard from Gaucholand?”
“Yes, sir,” Fischer said, and held up the briefcase.
“And?”
“That Marine has landed, sir, and the situation is well in hand.”
Graham smiled at him, waved him into a chair, and waited for him to detach the briefcase and unlock it. He took from it a manila envelope, stamped TOP SECRET in several places in large red letters, then got up and walked to Graham’s desk and handed it to him.
“I would offer you a cup of coffee, Len, but I don’t think there is any.”
“Not a problem, sir.”
Graham tore open the envelope, took two sheets of paper from it, and started to read from them.
From previous messages, Graham knew that BIS was Gonzalo Delgano, the Bureau of Interior Security man assigned to watch Frade and South American Airways; that Galahad (the courageous knight on the white horse) was Major von Wachtstein; that JohnPaul was Kapitän zur See Boltitz (after naval hero John Paul Jones); and that Tío Hank was Frade’s Uncle Humberto Duarte, managing director of the Banco de Inglaterra y Argentina.
If Tío Hank’s going to confirm Grape history—that Frogger is a South African winegrower—that means Frade probably told him what’s going on. I don’t know if that was smart or not.
But it’s his call. I am sitting behind a desk in Washington.
Why do I think Cletus had more than a little grape when he wrote this? Because that’s the code name he gave Colonel Frogger?
The question was answered in the next several paragraphs.
Graham knew the Tourists were the Froggers, Tío Juan was Juan Domingo Perón, Sidekick was Suboficial Mayor Rodríguez, and Beermug was Staff Sergeant Stein.
How in hell will he keep what must have been a hell of a firefight and six dead Germans from coming out?
Jedgar, from J. Edgar Hoover, was el Coronel Martín of the BIS.