The Honor of Spies

"But you knew I was here?"

Peron closed the door to the apartment.

"Cranz told me you were coming, and how," Peron said. "And also that von Gradny-Sawz had told him he'd bought you a car and that you had driven out to San Martin de los Andes to see our friend Schmidt. What was that all about?"

"You're always one step ahead of me, aren't you, Juan Domingo?"

"I try to stay that way."

"Never travel by submarine, Juan Domingo. I am still recovering."

"What was that all about?" Peron asked. "Why didn't you fly on the Condor? Why all the secrecy?"

"So far as the submarine is concerned, the Fuhrer himself wanted to know if that transport system will actually work if needed. . . ."

"Things don't seem to be going very well in the war, do they?"

"As a senior officer, I cannot agree with you. That would constitute defeatist talk. As a friend, in confidence between us, that's an understatement. You heard the Americans are in Naples?"

Peron nodded.

"And things aren't going too well in the east either," von Deitzberg said. "Anyway, I was the guinea pig to check out transportation by submarine. It was a long, long voyage."

"And driving all the way to San Martin de los Andes to see Schmidt?"

"Well, there were two reasons for that. The first was that I wanted to check on our Operation Phoenix properties out there. . . ."

"And the second?"

"Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler himself told me to do something nice for you, and Schmidt has been working on that for me."

"What would doing something nice for me entail, exactly?" Peron asked suspiciously.

"The Reichsfuhrer wants you to know how much we appreciate all that you have done for us," von Deitzberg said.

"And?"

"How about a nine-room villa on two hundred and fifty hectares on the shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi in Bariloche? Does that sound nice to you?"

"It sounds like something I would have a hard time explaining."

"We'll talk about it. Believe me, Juan Domingo, it can all be handled with the greatest discretion."

"Discretion is very important," Peron said. "And speaking of which, there's someone I want you to meet. And here discretion is really the watchword."

Peron put his index finger below his left eye, closed the right eye, and then pulled down the loose flesh below his left eye.

He pulled the door open and waved von Deitzberg into the apartment.

Von Deitzberg thought: What's this? I am about to be introduced to his latest conquest from the cradle?

Peron gestured at a line of liquor bottles.

"A little of that Johnnie Walker would go down nicely, thank you very much," von Deitzberg said.

Peron made the drinks, and as he was handing one to von Deitzberg a not-unattractive blond woman walked into the room and smiled a little uneasily at them.

This one's not thirteen! She has to be at least eighteen.

Eighteen, hell! She's twenty-four, twenty-five, trying to look like she's eighteen.

Who the hell is she?

"Evita," Peron said, "say hello to my good friend Manfred."

"It is always a pleasure to meet any acquaintance of el Coronel," the young blonde said.

"I am enchanted, senorita," von Deitzberg said.

"I didn't catch the name, senor," Evita said.

"My name is Jorge Schenck, senorita."

"I thought el Coronel just said your name is Manfred," Evita said.

"What this is, my dear," Peron explained, "is state business. That's not his real name, and you've never seen him."

"Oh!" Evita said. "It's like that, is it?"

Peron repeated the earlier gesture, this time closing his left eye and pulling the skin below the right eye down with his finger.

"Might one guess that you're not a Porteno, Senor Schenck?"

"Only if you call me Jorge," von Deitzberg said. "Actually, I live in Rio Negro. Outside Bariloche. I'm what they call an 'ethnic German.' I'm a German who now calls Argentina his home."

"And what, if one may inquire, do you do in Bariloche?"

She talks very strangely, stiltedly formal. What the hell is that all about?

"Well, I have a number of business interests--May I call you Evita, senorita?"

"Of course you may, Jorge."

"I'm glad you raised the question, Evita. Among my interests is real estate. I've come to see Juan Domingo about a property in which I think he will be interested."

"What's that all about?" Evita asked.

"Well, as I'm sure you can appreciate, Evita, a man in Juan Domingo's position here in Buenos Aires is always in the public eye. Sometimes that's bothersome."

"Absolutely," Peron agreed. "Just between us and the wallpaper, just before you came, Manfred, I was explaining to Evita . . . again, I have to say . . . why we have to be careful where we are seen together. I have a number of enemies."

"You also have a lot of friends, including this one, Juan Domingo," von Deitzberg said. "And all of us are sympathetic to your problem."