The Honor of Spies

Niedermeyer put his index finger before his lips and looked quickly at the water closet stalls--all of which were empty.

He threw out his arm in the Nazi salute.

"Heil Hitler!" he said, and then, "May the oberstleutnant respectfully suggest that the SS-brigadefuhrer attend to his personal business first?"

Von Deitzberg smiled.

"Good idea," he said.

He stepped to the urinal wall, unzipped his trousers, and started to attend to his personal business.

SS-Brigadefuhrer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg turned his head to look at Oberstleutnant Niedermeyer just in time to see the muzzle of the barrel of Niedermeyer's Ballester-Molina Pistola Automatica Calibre .45 before it fired.

Von Deitzberg slumped to the floor, leaving a tracing of brain tissue and blood on the urinal's tiles. The stream of water caused first the blood to start sliding down the tiles, and then the smaller pieces of brain tissue.

Niedermeyer quickly examined his clothing to see if he had been splattered with either. He had not been. He looked down at von Deitzberg, said, "God forgive me," returned the pistol to the small of his back, and calmly walked out of the men's room.

My ears are ringing from the noise of that gun firing in there. My hearing has been impaired.

I will have to remember to speak softly. Deaf people speak loudly.

He walked to the table and sat down.

"I heard what sounded like a shot," Alvarez said.

"Father," Kortig said softly, "if it looks as if I am about to be arrested, I will have to take my own life; otherwise many good men and their families will die."

[TWELVE]

Casa Montagna

Estancia Don Guillermo

Km 40.4, Provincial Route 60

Mendoza Province, Argentina

1705 16 October 1943

Clete set the Cub down with landing roll to spare on the first try. The pilot of the Cub following him decided to go around twice before finally coming in for a landing.

"He's not as skilled as you are," President Rawson said.

"What he is is smarter than I am," Clete replied. "He didn't bring it in until he was sure he could."

Captain Madison R. Sawyer III walked up to them. He was wearing an olive-drab shirt with the silver railroad tracks of his rank and the crossed sabers of cavalry pinned to the collar points. He had a Thompson slung from his shoulder.

"Well, look what you brought home," he said, and only then recognized the president of the Argentine Republic. He saluted.

"General Rawson, this is Captain Sawyer," Clete said.

"How do you do, Capitan?"

"Sir," Sawyer said, then: "Major, may I have a word in private?"

"Anything you have to say to me, Captain, you may say in the presence of the president."

"Yes, sir. Sir, maybe you better come with me."

The body had been laid on and under a blanket outside one of the small outbuildings.

"Please tell me this is not one of ours," Clete said.

"There is one of ours, sir, but he's inside on the bed."

Sawyer pulled off the blanket.

The eyes of the corpse were open. His face showed what could have been surprise. His coveralls had been unbuttoned, exposing the blood-soaked black SS uniform underneath. On his chest were his identity tags and his identity card.

"Close his eyes, for Christ's sake," Clete snapped.

Sawyer looked at him in horror.

Clete leaned and closed the corpse's eyelids, then pulled the blanket over the body.

"Okay, what happened?" Frade asked.

"There were about six of them running around the vineyard. One of them shot one of our guys. Stein and Enrico were running around down there, heard the shot, and went looking.

"Before Stein could stop him, Rodriguez blew this one away with his Thompson. We have the rest of them, including a hauptsturmfuhrer who says he's under the protection of Colonel Schmidt."

"Now, that's interesting," Rawson said. "Where is he? Are they?"

"Over there, sir. In the woodshed," Sawyer said, and pointed.

General Nervo came walking quickly to them.

"What's this?"

Clete said, "It's a dead SS trooper, who killed one of my men. There're six more--"

"Including an officer, General Nervo," Rawson interrupted, "who says he is under the protection of el Coronel Schmidt."

"--over there in the woodshed," Clete finished.

"Who killed this one?"

"Rodriguez," Clete said.

Nervo leaned over the body and pulled down the blanket.

"Why is the ID on his chest?" he asked.

"That was Rodriguez's idea. He said that when they killed the ones at Tandil, they took their pictures with their IDs before they buried them."

"Would you mind going over that again for me, please, Capitan?" the president asked courteously.

"Yes, sir. Well, when Peron and Schmidt and the SS guys tried to kill the Froggers at Don Cletus's house in Tandil--"

"You knew of this, General Nervo?" Rawson interrupted.

"Yes, sir."