And is he saying, by not saying that, he has Ambassador von Lutzenberger in his pocket?
“Apparently, von Lutzenberger has not yet found the propitious moment to make the gift,” Canaris said. “And in the meantime, the airplane has proven useful, has it not?”
“Yes, Sir,” Peter said. “It’s been very useful.”
“And if you accommodate Gradny-Sawz again, sparing him a two-times-two-day—how much is that, four?—trip by train and auto, perhaps the next time the weather will be such that we’ll have some better photographs.”
“I’ll try, Herr Admiral,” Peter said. “And I now know the buildings where the officers are being housed.”
“What is your assessment of their morale? Are they to a man anxious to return to active service?”
Peter opened his mouth to reply. But before he could speak, Canaris held up his hand to silence him.
“When I ask you a question, von Wachtstein,” Canaris said, “I want to hear the first thing that comes to your mind, rather than what you think you should say.”
“Jawohl, Herr Admiral,” Peter said. “I would suggest that most of them are like me. While we recognize our duty as serving officers, living in Argentina doesn’t offer much to complain about.”
“That’s what I want,” Canaris said. “The truth.”
He looked at Karl and then back at Peter. “The investigation of the Samborombón Bay incident can’t be concluded until Boltitz and Cranz speak with Kapitän de Banderano,” Canaris went on. “And, of course, until we hear from von Deitzberg in Buenos Aires. Which means you will have a few days on your hands here. What are your plans?”
“I’d hoped to see my father, Sir.”
“Well, perhaps that can be worked out,” Canaris said. He turned to Boltitz. “I’d like a few minutes with you, Boltitz.”
“Of course,” Karl said.
Canaris stood up.
Peter and Karl immediately rose.
Canaris put out his hand to Peter. “It is always a privilege to meet a holder of the Knight’s Cross,” he said.
“It has been my privilege, Herr Admiral,” Peter said, and clicked his heels as he curtly bowed his head.
“If you do see your father, please give him my compliments; I get to see very little of him these days.”
“Of course, Herr Admiral,” Peter said.
Canaris nodded at Peter, then marched out of the bar, followed by Boltitz and von und zu Waching—who neither spoke nor offered his hand.
The Admiral’s Horch was parked in front of the hotel. There was the sound of solemn organ music—funeral music, Karl thought—from the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church a few yards away. Canaris motioned for Boltitz to get in front beside the driver. Von und zu Waching sat in the back, followed by Canaris.
“I don’t want him going to Wolfsschanze,” Canaris said.
“Jawohl, Admiral,” von und zu Waching said.
“Interesting young man, Boltitz,” Canaris said. “An honest one, I think. Possibly because of his heritage. I would be very distressed to learn that he has been lining his pockets by taking thirty gold coins from the enemy.”
He means more than he said. What didn’t he say?
“Herr Admiral, I have the feeling that he is honest.”
“I’m disappointed to hear you say that, Boltitz,” Canaris said. “
In our business, we can afford to trust no one. Or practically no one.”
Then he made an impatient gesture with his hand, a signal that he had said all he was going to say.