Gradny-Sawz chuckled; von Wachtstein smiled. Von Deitzberg did neither.
Is that an indication I was supposed to cringe at your appearance, von Deitzberg?
“Standartenführer Raschner is my deputy,” von Deitzberg said, and von Lutzenberger offered his hand—but said nothing—to Raschner.
“You understand, Herr Generalmajor, why I was unable to meet you at the airport, or entertain you myself last night?
“Gradny-Sawz said something about a diplomatic reception?”
“At the Swedish Embassy,” von Lutzenberger said. “My absence would have been conspicuous.”
“Why is that?” von Deitzberg asked.
“It was the first reception—the first by a neutral power—since the unfortunate demise of Oberst Frade, the coup d’état, and the incident at Samborombón Bay. The entire diplomatic corps was waiting—rather shamelessly—to see the interaction between myself and the officials of General Rawson’s—El Presidente Rawson’s—new government.”
Von Löwzer chuckled. “And that was?” he asked.
“Following a pro forma handshake between el Presidente and myself, I became invisible to the Argentines.”
“Which you think signifies…?” Von Löwzer pursued.
“The Argentines obviously wished to make it clear to me, and everyone in the diplomatic community, that they—el Presidente Rawson in particular; he and Frade were good friends—don’t consider the deaths of Oberst Grüner and Standartenführer Goltz as payment in full for the assassination of Oberst Frade.”
“‘Everyone’?” von Löwzer asked. “Are you suggesting that everyone in the diplomatic community is conversant with the details of both incidents?”
Von Lutzenberger nodded. “No one believes that Oberst Frade was murdered in the course of a robbery, and everyone knows what happed to Grüner and Goltz.”
“What does ‘everyone’ think happened to Grüner and Goltz at Samborombón Bay?” Von Deitzberg asked.
“That when they attempted to land equipment—shortwave radios, and other items, intended to facilitate the repatriation of the Graf Spee officers—from the Océano Pacífico, Frade’s son was waiting for them, and revenged the murder of his father.”
“How did our intention to repatriate the Graf Spee officers become known?” von Deitzberg asked, surprised.
“I told, in t
he strictest confidence, my friend the Spanish ambassador—”
“You did what?” von Deitzberg interrupted, incredulously.
“—in absolute confidence that within hours Oberst Martín of the Bureau of Internal Security would hear what we were doing at Samborombón Bay,” von Lutzenberger finished, somewhat coldly.
“And who gave you the authority to do this?” von Deitzberg demanded.
Von Lutzenberger waved his hand at Gradny-Sawz, von Wachtstein, and Raschner. “If you gentlemen will excuse us,” he ordered. “Herr Minister von Löwzer and the Generalmajor and I would like a word in private.”
Gradny-Sawz—whose face showed his surprise and concern—and von Wachtstein and Raschner left the office.
Von Lutzenberger looked at von Deitzberg.
“You were about to tell me who gave you the authority to reveal—” von Deitzberg said.
“Pardon me, Herr Generalmajor,” von Lutzenberger said, holding up his hand to interrupt him.
Von Deitzberg glowered at him.
“Perhaps I can save us all some time,” von Lutzenberger said. He turned to von Löwzer. “Friedrich, are you here to tell me that I am being recalled to Berlin for consultation? Or, perhaps, that you are replacing me ‘temporarily’ until this matter is resolved?”
“No,” von Löwzer said, obviously surprised at the question. “Where did you get an idea like that?”