Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

“Hauptmann Grüner had not been informed that his father had been killed, Sir. Von Wachtstein had to tell him. I would have been uncomfortable in that circumstance. And, in my opinion, I felt that von Wachtstein was made more uncomfortable because he wasn’t injured or killed at Samborombón and Oberst Grüner was.”

Canaris nodded but said nothing.

“Herr Admiral, Hauptmann Grüner told us both—and Generalleutnant von Wachtstein—that he is under orders not to reveal his present assignment to anyone. He let slip that he’s going to Augsburg.”

Canaris looked at von und zu Waching and nodded his head.

“Messerschmitt has developed a new fighter for the Luftwaffe,” von und zu Waching said. “They call it the ME-262. It is propellerless, and supposedly capable of speeds approaching nine hundred kilometers per hour. When it is operational, the Führer expects it will remove the Allied bomber fleet from our skies. Adolf Galland has been charged with its final testing and making it operational. Hauptmann Grüner has been selected by Galland as one of his pilots.”*

“In Augsburg?” Boltitz asked, then asked the question that had sprung to his mind, “Nine hundred kilometers per hour?”

“Sounds incredible, doesn’t it?” Canaris said. “One should never underestimate German engineering genius. Or the genius of Reichsmarschall Göring.”

He looked at Boltitz for a moment, then went on:

“Galland is a friend of mine,” he said. “Despite the press of his duties, I am sure that he will feel Grüner can be spared long enough to participate in the funeral of his father. And I’m sure that von Wachtstein would like to be there, to pay his last respects to Oberst Grüner. Perhaps it might be wise for you to plan to leave for Argentina immediately afterward. It might be possible for you and von Wachtstein to travel together.”

“Jawohl, Herr Admiral.”

“What are the von Wachtsteins’ plans?”

“They are going to Pomerania, Herr Admiral. Generalleutnant von Wachtstein mentioned something about going to see a friend of theirs, an Oberstleutnant von Stauffenberg, who is in a hospital in Munich.”

“The families are old friends,” Canaris said. “Von Stauffenberg was severely wounded in Africa.”

“What would the Herr Admiral have me do?” Boltitz asked.

“Just what you are doing now, Boltitz,” Canaris said.

“Jawohl, Herr Admiral.”

What I’m really going to have to do, Karl Boltitz thought, is remember this conversation as carefully as I can, and then hope I can guess what he really means by what he has not said.

XIV

[ONE]

4730 Avenida Libertador

Buenos Aires

1215 11 May 1943

El Coronel Juan Domingo Perón, fresh from a shower and wearing a blue silk robe, was sitting on the bed in the topfloor master bedroom of the mansion across from the Hipódrome Argentino. There he consulted a small leather-bound address book and found the number he was looking for.

He dialed all the digits but one, laid the address book on the bedside table, adjusted the pillows of the bed against the headboard, and, swinging his legs up onto the bed, arranged himself comfortably against the pillows.

He dialed the last number. It was answered on the second ring.

“Coronel Martín.”

“Juan Domingo Perón. Buenas tardes, Alejandro.”

“Buenas tardes, mi Coronel. How may I help you?”

Perón chuckled. “You’re going to have to remember, Alejandro, that you are now a coronel yourself, and that protocol permits coronels to address one another by their Christian names.”

“That’s very gracious of you, Juan Domingo,” Martín replied. “But may I suggest, with all possible respect, that there is a vast difference between a coronel so junior that the shellac is still on his insignia, and a very senior coronel who is also the Special Assistant to the Minister for War?”