Von und zu Aschenburg shook his head.
“One of Argentina’s great beauties found our man irresistible,” Cranz went on, pleased with himself. “Or was it the other way around, Peter?”
“Modesty obviously precludes my answering that question,” von Wachtstein said, then: “Herr Cranz, may I present Untersturmführer Schneider?”
Schneider clicked his heels and rendered yet another crisply perfect Nazi straight-arm salute. Cranz returned it casually.
“I understand you’re responsible for the diplomatic pouch—pouches— Schneider?”
“I have that privilege, Herr Obersturmbannführer.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said to Major von Wachtstein?” Cranz snapped. “Do not use my rank again!”
There was a moment’s silence, enough to give von Wachtstein time to think, That little sonofabitch is so scared of Cranz he can’t talk!
Cranz went on, unpleasantly: “Then why don’t you get them? I want to get to the embassy as quickly as possible.”
“Jawohl, meine Herr,” Schneider said, and saluted again. He hurried onto the Condor.
“What did you mean before, Peter, when you said you ‘had the duty’?” Cranz asked.
“The embassy protocol stipulates that the military attaché is next in line when the first secretary is not able to perform his duties,” von Wachtstein explained. “Gradny-Sawz is in Montevideo. I’m the acting military attaché.”
“What’s Gradny-Sawz doing in Montevideo?” Cranz asked.
“I have no idea.”
“And if Ambassador von Lutzenberger ordered him back here, right now, how long would that take?”
Von Wachtstein looked at his watch and then at the sky.
“If I left right now, as long as it would take to fly back and forth to Montevideo, ” he said. “That presumes the telephone lines are in, and that First Secretary Gradny-Sawz would be at the airport there when I arrived.”
“You have an aircraft immediately available?”
Von Wachtstein pointed to the hangar where the Storch was parked.
“This solution is possible?” Cranz asked.
“Possible, but not likely,” von Wachtstein said.
“Why not? The telephone lines might be out?”
“That, too. But what I was thinking is that the duties of the first secretary probably will keep him from getting to the airport in Carrasco in time for us to take off and make the return flight in daylight. And he does not like to fly at night.”
“But Ambassador Lutzenberger will have ordered him to return,” Cranz challenged.
“So what I think would likely happen,” von Wachtstein said, “after he couldn’t make it to the airport in time for me to fly him back here today, would be that he would say, ‘Now that it’s impossible to fly, the obvious thing to do is take the boat. That will get me to Buenos Aires earlier than I could flying with you in the morning.’ Actually, he’s not enthusiastic about flying in the Storch at all.”
“You’re not suggesting that First Secretary Gradny-Sawz is afraid of flying?” Cranz said.
“Perish the thought,” von Wachtstein said, his smile making it perfectly clear that that was exactly what he was suggesting. “If you have to see him right now, I could fly you over there.”
Cranz did not reply directly. Instead, he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud, “I have to see everybody, but not necessarily tonight. Generalmajor von Deitzberg is here?”
“No, sir. The Generalmajor and Sturmbannführer Raschner went with Gradny-Sawz to Montevideo.”
“Do you know why?”