“Which is?”
“On the one hand, Hauptmann Duarte was the only son of Humberto Valdez Duarte, the banker. Under those circumstances, one would think that as First Secretary, I would deal with the family, as I did when we learned of Captain Duarte’s tragic death. On the other hand, Captain Jorge Duarte’s mother—Beatrice Frade de Duarte—is the sister of Oberst Jorge Guillermo Frade; I think it reasonable to presume he was named for him. Under those circumstances, considering Frade’s importance, perhaps Grüner would be the man to handle things.”
Ambassador von Lutzenberger focused on Gradny-Sawz’s motives in raising the question, rather than on the question itself, the answer to which seemed self-evident. The more important an indigenous official was, the more senior the Embassy official should be. In the diplomatic hierarchy, a first secretary was far senior to a military attaché.
And Gradny-Sawz certainly knew this.
So why was he raising the question? In terms of real power, so far as von Lutzenberger was concerned, the two were about equal, and thus equally dangerous. In addition to being his man in Argentina, Grüner was a close personal friend of Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, the head of the Abwehr. One did not cross Canaris, or his friends, without good reason.
Gradny-Sawz’s influence, above and beyond that which went with his rank in the Foreign Ministry, came from his early and close ties to the inner circle of the Nazi party. The National Socialists had been desperate early on for the support of the aristocracy. It lent them, they believed, a respectability they would otherwise not have had. Gradny-Sawz’s early support of the Nazis had been a clever career move. He had nothing, really, to lose by announcing his conviction that Adolf Hitler and his National Socialists were the one hope of das deutsche Volk, and that Austria should “return” to the German fatherland.
He could have been discharged from the Austrian Foreign Ministry, of course—and certainly should have been—for bad judgment, or disloyalty. But he was only a minor functionary at the time, and he didn’t need a job. The Gradny-Sawz estates in Hungary were extensive; and in those days he had dual citizenship; he might even have been able to buy his way into the Hungarian Foreign Service.
But he bet on the right horse. The National Socialists came to power; and in 1938 Austria became Ostmark. And the Nazis rewarded their friends: Gradny-Sawz was “absorbed” into the German Foreign Ministry and assigned to the Embassy in Paris as Third Secretary for Commercial Affairs. In 1941, he was assigned to Buenos Aires as First Secretary.
A colleague in the Foreign Ministry took von Lutzenberger aside during a visit to Buenos Aires and warned him that Gradny-Sawz had friends at the highest levels in the Sicherheitsdienst—the German Secret Service—and it could be presumed that he was reporting to them whenever Embassy personnel—the Ambassador included—strayed from his notion of the correct National Socialist path.
Gradny-Sawz reveled in high-level social intercourse.
Ordinarily, Die grosse Wienerwurst would be doing whatever he could to make sure Grüner did not usurp this privilege. He would not be asking me whether I think Grüner should be brought into the matter. The question then becomes, why?
Because he is afraid that something is going to go wrong. What, I have no idea, for what can possibly go wrong with a funeral, however grotesquely medieval it will be here in Catholic Argentina?
Perhaps he is concerned that he will somehow offend Colonel Frade. Or a member of his family. And he wants to see that Grüner is the one who will be in hot water if it does. Or else he wants to be able to say, if something goes wrong, that I ordered him to deal with the Duartes and/or Colonel Frade.
Gradny-Sawz, I know, belongs to the School of Diplomatic Practice that holds that one cannot endanger one’s diplomatic career if one avoids any situation of conflict, however unimportant.
“Quite right, Gradny-Sawz,” the ambassador said. “It is a delicate matter. Give me the details, and I will contact Frade myself. Have him to lunch, perhaps. And then I will decide which of you should carry out our role in Hauptmann Duarte’s funeral.”
He could tell from the look on Gradny-Sawz’s face that that was not the response he was looking for.
What did you want me to say? What are you after?
“While I have you both here,” Ambassador von Lutzenberger said. “It seems that three American—North American—nationals, employed by the Radio Corporation of America, have disappeared. This has been reported to the Argentinean authorities, specifically to the police commander of the Distrito Federal.”
(The Federal District, somewhat similar in character to the District of Columbia, lies within the Province of Buenos Aires, and includes the city of Buenos Aires.)
“Oh, really?” Gradny-Sawz said, somewhat smugly.
“It is being bandied about that certain individuals connected with our embassy have knowledge of this matter. These allegations have also come to the attention of the Federal Police.”
“I heard the same story,” Gradny-Sawz said. “In fact, I have the feeling that the Americans will not be heard from again.”
“Tell me what rumors you have heard,” the Ambassador said.
“Your Excellency will understand that these are only rumors,” Grad
ny-Sawz said, visibly enjoying himself, “for I, of course, have no personal information about this incident.”
“What did you hear, Anton?” the Ambassador pursued, hoping that neither impatience nor disgust was evident in his voice.
“I heard, Your Excellency, that these three Yankees were suspected of certain activities involving neutral shipping—”
“Suspected by the Argentine authorities, you mean?” von Lutzenberger interrupted.
“Yes, Sir. They were suspected of attempting to interfere with neutral shipping, specifically with a Swedish merchant vessel, the Sundsvall, which was anchored in the Bahía Samborombón while conducting repairs to one of its engines.”
(The Río de la Plata, which empties into the South Atlantic Ocean, separates Argentina from Uruguay. The mouth of the river, which is defined as a line between Punta Norte del Cabo San Antonio, Argentina, and Punta del Este, Uruguay, is approximately 160 miles wide. The Bay of Samborombón lies just inside this line.)