Frade had gotten both von Wachtstein and Boltitz out of Argentina and to the secret POW camp for senior enemy officers at Fort Hunt in Virginia as much for their services to the United States as for their friendship.
—
“. . . and people like Elsa to the list of Nazi officials and SS officers we—our Military Police—were looking for,” Frade continued. “Elsa turned up at an MP checkpoint in Hesse. Lieutenant Cronley—did I mention my little brother is a second lieutenant, Bernardo? You wouldn’t want to leave that out of your dossier—was sitting there in his jeep.
“He notified the OSS. The OSS was waiting when we landed in Frankfurt on our way back from Berlin.”
“And they knew the connection between Peter and Frau Elsa?” Martín asked.
Frade nodded. “So we went to Marburg—it’s about sixty miles north of Frankfurt—and got her. I didn’t know Jimmy was involved—or even in the Army, or in Germany—until we got there.”
“Jimmy wanted to know why Clete was wearing that Mexican bus driver’s uniform,” von Wachtstein furnished as he pointed. “Clete had no answer.”
“Then we loaded Elsa onto the Ciudad de Rosario and brought her here,” Frade said. “End of story.”
“Frau von Wachtstein,” Martín said. “What about her husband? Where’s he?”
“My brother was killed in Russia,” Hansel said.
“My condolences, Peter,” Martín said.
Von Wachtstein shrugged. “He was a good man and a fine officer.”
“Does that complete your dossier, Bernardo?” Frade asked.
“Just about, thank you,” Martín said. “Which permits the conversation to turn to why Father Kurt and I went to the airfield to meet you.”
“Which is?”
“President Farrell sent us,” Martín said.
“Now you have my attention, Bernardo,” Frade said.
“El Coronel Juan Domingo Perón has been arrested at President Farrell’s order,” Martín said.
“And how did my Tío Juan offend el Presidente? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Perhaps Bernardo should have said, ‘has been taken into custody,’” Father Welner said.
“Well, which was it? And what’s the difference?”
“For his own protection,” the priest said. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“You know better than that, Your Eminence,” Frade said.
“I went to the president with credible intelligence that a group of officers is planning to assassinate Juan Domingo,” Martín said.
“Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut,” Frade said.
“Cletus, Juan Domingo is your godfather!” the priest said.
“And you know better than that,” Martín said. “My duty required that I inform the president of something like that. El Coronel Perón is the vice president—”
“And the minister for War and the secretary of Labor and Welfare,” the priest added.
“What happened when you told Farrell that some people want to blow Juan Domingo away?” Frade asked.
“It took him some time to accept it,” Martín said. “And the first thing he thought was that it had something to do with Señorita Duarte.”