EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, BOLTITZ WILL TRANSMIT A DAILY REPORT TO ADMIRAL CANARIS OF PROGRESS BEING MADE.
THIS MESSAGE WILL BE ACKNOWLEDGED IMMEDIATELY ON RECEIPT.
HEIL HITLER!
MARTIN BORMANN
PARTEILEITER
CONCUR
WILHELM CANARIS
VIZEADMIRAL
MANFRED VON DEITZBERG
SS-BRIGADEFÜHRER
Von Lutzenberger, shaking his head, folded the sheets of paper and put them back into the letter-sized envelope. This he absently tried to put into his suit jacket. But he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket; he was in his uniform, and it had no pockets. He ultimately learned that there were hip pockets on the uniform trousers, though none deep enough to take the white envelope without it first being folded.
This he did. He thought he would give the manila envelope to Schneider to take back to the embassy and destroy. Then he decided he would leave it in the pissoir, on the floor, where the French would find it and wonder what it might have contained.
He wordlessly left the men’s room and found Schneider still at his post.
“Go in there, Schneider,” he said, nodding at the Grand Reception Room, “and tell Herr von Gradny-Sawz that he is to immediately pick up Herr Cranz and Herr Raschner and bring them to the embassy on a matter of some importance. ”
“Jawohl, Excellency.”
“Tell Herr von Gradny-Sawz that I am going to pick up Kapitän Boltitz on my way.”
“Jawohl, Excellency.”
Von Lutzenberger scanned the room and thought: I hope it won’t take me too long to find the French ambassador to express my gratitude for his splendid hospitality and my regrets that duty calls. I really want Boltitz to see this message before we meet with the others. Maybe—very possibly—he will see something in it that I have missed.
[TWO]
The Chateau Marmont 8221 Sunset Boulevard Hollywood, California 0905 5 August 1943
When the managing director of South American Airways—wearing a tweed jacket, khaki slacks, a white polo shirt, and well-worn Western boots—walked off the elevator into the lobby of the hotel, he found eleven SAA captains and one U.S. Border Patrol captain already there.
The Immigration Service captain was in uniform. So were the SAA pilots, each nattily attired in a woolen powder-blue tunic with the four gold stripes of a captain on the sleeves, darker blue trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a leather brimmed cap with a huge crown. On their breasts were what Clete thought of as outsized golden wings, in the center of which, superimposed on the Argentine sunburst, were the letters SAA.
Chief Pilot Delgano, as was probably to be expected, had five golden stripes on his tunic sleeves and the band around his brimmed cap was of gold cloth.
To a man, they looked at him askance.
I think I just failed inspection, Frade thought.
What did they expect, that I would be wearing a SAA uniform?
And what the hell are they doing in those ridiculous uniforms, anyway?
I don’t think it’s coincidental. Somebody told them to wear them.
Let’s find out who and why. . . .
He said, “I see that everyone is properly—I should say ‘splendidly’—turned out. Your idea, Captain Delgano?”