He picked up the filing card, looked at it for a long moment-there is ab-solutely no way Dieter could memorize all this; he'll have to carry it with him and hope he doesn't find himself searched by the Gestapo before he can burn it or swallow it-and then put it in his pocket and picked up the Buenos Aires Herald.
He had just settled himself comfortably-pulled down his necktie and rested his crossed feet on an open desk drawer-when Standartenf?hrer Josef Goltz, in civilian clothing, walked in without knocking.
Peter immediately began to untangle his feet and rise.
"Oh, keep your seat, von Wachtstein," Goltz said.
"How may I be of service, Herr Standartenf?hrer?" Peter asked, getting to his feet anyway.
"I just dropped in to ask you your plans for the day," Goltz said.
"Nothing specific, Herr Standartenf?hrer, until four this afternoon, when I will take the diplomatic pouches out to El Palomar and give them to the Condor pilot."
"Curiosity prompts me to ask if you always begin your duty day by reading the English newspaper."
"The English newspaper, Herr Standartenf?hrer, and La Nacion and La Prensa and..." He pointed to the newspapers and magazines G?nther had laid on his desk. "I go through them to find information of interest to Oberst Gr?ner."
"Of course, I should have thought of that. What have the English to say to-day?"
"That they have achieved glorious victories on all fronts, Herr Standarten-f?hrer."
"Oh, really?"
"The war will be over sometime next month, Herr Standartenf?hrer, and we will lose. If one is to believe the Herald."
"I suppose that is to be expected," Goltz said, smiling. "Do you ever find anything-anything you can believe-that is of interest?"
"Every once in while, Herr Standartenf?hrer, there is something. Most of-ten in the personals, oddly enough. The assignment of Anglo-Argentines to var-ious British units, for example, which often furnishes the location of the unit. I believe Oberst Gr?ner forwards them to the Abwehr for the use of their Order of Battle people."
"The Condor is leaving... when?"
"Probably at about six, or a little later."
"When we left Berlin, we left very early in the morning."
"Did you?"
"I'm curious why the Condor is leaving at nightfall. Why not early this morning? Or tomorrow morning?"
"In this case, Herr Standartenf?hrer-and I don't know this-I would think it is so they can fly off the coast of Brazil in the hours of darkness."
"Why is that?"
"The Brazilians now have Maritime Reconnaissance aircraft, Herr Standartenf?hrer. They are looking for our submarines, but they would be pleased to come across the Condor."
"Could they shoot it down?"
"It's unlikely. The Condor is faster than the Brazilian aircraft-they're us-in
g Catalinas, American Navy aircraft-but under the right circumstances-"
"The 'right' circumstances, or the 'wrong' ones?"
"I suppose, Herr Standartenf?hrer, that I was thinking as a fighter pilot. I am trained to shoot planes down, not avoid a confrontation."
"Yes, of course you were," Goltz said with a smile. "The reason I asked for your schedule, von Wachtstein, is that I promised your father to have a little chat with you-you are apparently not much of a letter writer..."
"I'm afraid not, Herr Standartenf?hrer."