It isn’t fair for the OSS to expect me to spend my own money doing things for the OSS—especially since doing things for them usually results in people trying to kill me.
When he was ready to hand the invoice to Tony Pelosi to be sent to Washington, he had second—or perhaps fiftieth—thoughts about actually sending it. But finally—What the hell, why not?—he typed a brief note, then signed it: 16 Jun 1944
Dear General Donovan:
Detailed invoice enclosed.Please remit sum of $503,508.35 at earliest convenience.Respectfully,
Cletus H. Frade
Major, USMCR
And he handed the note and the invoice to Pelosi, who saw that they were put in the next possible diplomatic pouch.
When there had been no reply of any kind in two weeks, Clete had decided that Donovan or Graham, or both, were either really pissed at him or were ignoring him, or both, and that he’d simply made a fool of himself. Again.
He’d had no regrets. It had been interesting to see how much being a spy was costing him. The invoice showed he had dipped into el Coronel’s cash box on behalf of the OSS for a little more than half a million dollars.
Now, Frade glanced at the briefcase on the desk and thought, Better late than never!
Frade then looked at Flowers. “I thought that might have money in it.”
“Of course you did,” Flowers said stiffly, handing Frade an envelope.
Frade opened it. It contained a single sheet of paper that read: The Embassy of the United States of America Buenos Aires, Argentina
Colonel Richmond C. Flowers
Military Attaché
16 MAY 1945
The undersigned acknowledges receipt of $500,000 (Five Hundred Thousand Dollars Exactly) in lawful currency of the United States from Colonel Richmond C. Flowers, USA.
Cletus H. Frade
Lieutenant Colonel, USMCR
Frade thought, And more fucking government efficiency!
They shorted me almost four thousand dollars!
Oh, well. Better the bulk of it than nothing at all.
Flowers then extended his fountain pen.
“Please sign that,” he said.
Frade did so, handed pen and paper back, then, nodding at the briefcase, asked, “It all fit in there? Half a million dollars?”
“You may count it if you wish, but I assure you it’s all there.”
Frade nodded, opened the briefcase, and looked into it. It held five bricks of bills, each about the size of a shoe box, wrapped in some sort of oiled paper, which was translucent enough so that he could see stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Where’d you get it?” Frade said. “The Bank of Boston?”
“It came by diplomatic pouch,” Flowers said.
Frade said nothing.
“You of course may keep the briefcase,” Flowers went on, “until it’s convenient for you to drop it off at the embassy.”
“Thank you,” Frade said, then had an irreverent thought and said it aloud: “It would be really bad form for me to walk out of here carrying all that money in my arms like so much Kleenex.”
“I think I have the right to an explanation, Colonel Frade,” Flowers said. “That’s a great deal of money. What are you going to do with it?”
“Sorry, Colonel, you just don’t have the need to know.”
Did I say that because I didn’t want to get into a long explanation of where and how I’ve been spending the OSS’s money?
Or because I really dislike him?
“Sooner or later, Colonel Frade, you’re simply going to have to accept that as the senior OSS officer down here, I do have the need to know about whatever you’re doing.”
Frade shrugged and in an agreeable tone said, “I hope you understand that I’m just obeying my orders, Colonel. It’s nothing personal.”
Flowers met Frade’s eyes, and Frade thought he could actually see steam coming out of Flowers’s ears.
Then Flowers cleared his throat and changed subjects.
“There is something else I would like to discuss with you, Colonel Frade.”
“Yes, sir?”
“As you know, I wear several hats. I am both the military attaché here as well as the senior OSS officer in Argentina. While that latter role is, of course, known to the assistant chief of staff for intelligence, it is not known by any of the other military attachés in South America. They don’t have, as you like to say, the need to know.”
Why do I think he’s rehearsed this speech?
No. What Colonel Pompous has done is to write it down and then nearly memorize it.
Which makes it important to him.
So where the hell is he going with it?
“Periodically, once every three months or so, the assistant chief of staff, intelligence—ACofS G-2—convenes a conference of military attachés in South America. My absence from such conferences would raise questions, obviously, so I attend.
“I have just returned from such a conference, this time held in Rio de Janeiro. The ACofS G-2 personally presided. The subject was our role now that Germany has surrendered. And, as part of this, the role of the OSS for the rest of the war and afterward was discussed.”
Aha! Question answered.
This might be interesting.
Frade said: “And what did you and the ACofS G-2 conclude?”
Flowers’s face showed that he hadn’t expected questions during his speech. He almost visibly thought about answering the question and then decided to go with the rehearsed speech.
“It is the opinion of the ACofS G-2 that (a) General Marshall will order the dissolution of the OSS in the time frame between today and the successful termination of the war against the Empire of Japan and (b) that it would be in the national interest for the OSS simply to be folded, so to speak, into Army Intelligence.”
“How long do you think it will be before we can successfully terminate the war against the Empire of Japan?” Frade asked.
There was an element of sarcasm in Frade’s parroting of the “successful termination” phrase. It went right past Flowers.
“A number of factors affect that, actually,” Flowers said. “For example, the main Japanese islands are under daily bombardment by B-29 aircraft.”
“Germany also was under daily aerial bombardment,” Clete replied. “We still had to cross the Rhine and take Berlin before they surrendered.”
“There are other factors,” Flowers said almost condescendingly.
Does that mean he knows about the atomic bomb?
The ACofS G-2 certainly does—Army Intelligence must have counterintelligence agents swarming all over the Manhattan Project—but I can’t believe ACofS G-2 would tell Flowers anything about it.
If there’s anyone who doesn’t have a need to know his name is Flowers.
Let’s find out.
Frade said: “You’re talking about the Los Angeles Project? Right?”
Flowers’s face showed that the Los Angeles Project—which Frade, of course, had just invented—was news to him.
“Or maybe the Manhattan Project?” Frade pursued.