First off was a tall, well-dressed, good-looking, sharp-featured man in his middle forties. A moment later-still holding his diplomatic passport impor-tantly in his hand-he marched through the gate in the fence, made directly for von Wachtstein, and greeted him somewhat abruptly: "You are?"
"Major von Wachtstein," Peter replied.
"Oh, yes," the man said, his tone suggesting that he was very familiar with just who Peter was and where he fitted into the hierarchy. "In my luggage, I have a letter and a small package for you from your father."
"Oh, really? How good of you, Herr."
"Standartenf?hrer Josef Goltz at your service, Major," Goltz said with a smile.
Major von Wachtstein came to attention and clicked his heels.
"Excuse me, Herr Standartenf?hrer," he said. "I had no way of knowing who you are."
"My movement here was of course classified," Goltz said. "No offense was taken, Major."
"The Herr Standartenf?hrer is very kind," Peter replied.
A very tall, well-
dressed, olive-skinned man with prominent features walked through the gate and joined them.
"Colonel, this is Major von Wachtstein, of our embassy," Goltz said.
"I have the pleasure of the Major's acquaintance," the tall man said, offer-ing Peter his hand.
"What a pleasure to see you again, Colonel Per¢n," Peter said, saluting- the old-style, fingers-to-the-temple salute, now officially out of favor-and then shaking the Colonel's hand.
"And have you found here what I said you would find, Major?"
"What you told me, mi Coronel, was an understatement," Peter said, in ab-solute sincerity.
"I told this young man," Per¢n chuckled, "that it would not surprise me if he found our young women extraordinary, and that the reverse might also be true."
"Is that so?" Goltz said with a somewhat strained smile, then looked at Pe-ter and added, "I had rather expected First Secretary Gradny-Sawz to meet me," Goltz said. "We are old friends."
"I'm sure that the First Secretary did not know you were on the plane, Herr Standartenf?hrer," Peter said.
"But if not Gradny-Sawz, then Oberst Gr?ner," Goltz said.
That did not surprise Peter, who knew that Military Attach‚ Gr?ner was, in fact, in the service not only of the Abwehr (the Intelligence Department of Ger-man Armed Forces High Command) but the Sicherheitsdienst as well. Gr?ner himself had actually confided this to von Wachtstein, and he had also been warned about it by Ambassador Manfred Alois Graf von Lutzenberger.
Military Attach‚s are always intelligence officers, although the diplomatic community invariably pretends this is not the case. Gr?ner's role as SD officer for the Embassy was thus a covert role within a covert role. It was one more manifestation of the Through the Looking Glass land of National Socialism that Peter von Wachtstein had only recently come to understand and loathe.
As a soldier, the scion of an ancient family of Pomeranian warriors, he found it a strange mixture of the comical and deadly. It was literally suicidal to criticize any facet of it.
"The Oberst was charged by First Secretary Gradny-Sawz with handling the Herr Standartenf?hrer's arrival," Peter said. "He thought that I could safely be entrusted with meeting the unidentified very important personage arriving on the Condor, while he saw that your hotel accommodations were both suit-able and ready for you."
Goltz looked at him coldly for a moment.
"I presume you have a car, von Wachtstein? I have offered Colonel Per¢n a ride."
"Oberst Gr?ner's car and driver are at your service, Herr Standartenf?hrer."
"I can call, and have someone come meet me," Per¢n said.
"Don't be silly. I knew the embassy would send a car for me. Where am I going, von Wachtstein?"
"A suite has been taken for you at the Alvear Palace Hotel, Herr Stan-dartenf?hrer. Oberst Gr?ner will be there waiting for you."