He’s the goddamned ambassador, the senior German officer. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s hired some of the local thugs to kidnap Mallín, much less ask my permission.
If he succeeds, Berlin will think he’s a genius, the man who got the Froggers back when I failed to do that.
And he will tell everyone the reason he took it upon himself to deal with the situation was because neither I nor Raschner could.
And because we also failed to eliminate that goddamned American, Frade.
If we’ve proven we’re not smart enough to eliminate Frade, why should he have turned to us to carry out an operation requiring the skill and finesse of an experienced diplomat?
And he doesn’t care whether or not Frade makes good on his threat to give the photographs of Perón with the SS in Tandil to the press. Or that map von Deitzberg gave Perón.
God, that was stupid of von Deitzberg!
Actually, von Lutzenberger probably hopes that happens. Then not only does SS-Obersturmbannführer Cranz look like an incompetent moron, but so does SS-Brigadeführer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg.
And it won’t matter that we can explain what happened to Himmler. Even if Himmler believes us, we still will have committed the worst sin of all—making the SS look stupid in the eyes of the Führer. And that the Reichsführer will not forgive.
And if von Lutzenberger’s kidnapping operation fails—that goddamned Frade has his private army guarding Mallín; and they have proved they know what they’re doing—all he has to do is back off and pretend he knows nothing about it.
Hinting, of course, that SS-Obersturmbannführer Cranz may know something about it.
“Cranz and Raschner were more than a little embarrassed that they had no idea the Froggers were going to desert.”
Is anybody in this with him?
Certainly not von Gradny-Sawz. Von Lutzenberger doesn’t think the Wienerwurst can be trusted any further than I do.
Von Wachtstein?
Probably not. Although he could be useful in knowing where and when Mallín would be someplace.
Boltitz?
Now, that makes a little sense. He’s close to Canaris, and I have never trusted that sonofabitch. Or sailors in general.
So what do I do now?
“Were there any other problems, Cranz?” von Lutzenberger asked again.
“Excuse me, Exzellenz, I was lost in thought,” Cranz confessed, smiling. “No, Exzellenz, there were not. I have communicated with Oberst Schmidt and set up the rendezvous points for tomorrow. All that remains to be done is for Raschner and me to be on the beach of Samborombón Bay at half past four tomorrow morning. And, of course, for von Gradny-Sawz to be prepared to drive Brigadeführer von Deitzberg here once he is safely ashore.”
He turned to von Gradny-Sawz and smiled. “Gradny-Sawz, could I impose on you again to drive me down there? Let Raschner ride in the truck with our Günther tomorrow.”
“Of course,” von Gradny-Sawz said. “Pick you up at midnight?”
“I would really appreciate it,” Cranz said.
“My pleasure,” von Gradny-Sawz said.
[SIX]
Aboard U-405
South Latitude 36.05, West Longitude 57.17
Samborombón Bay, River Plate Estuary
0430 28 September 1943