“Then let’s go to the hotel,” Frade said. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ambassador.”
[FOUR]
The Bar, Hotel Britania Rua Rodrigues Sampaio 17 Lisbon, Portugal 1935 17 May 1945
“Why do I think you’re planning something evil?” Gonzalo Delgano asked Cletus Frade even before the bartender came to serve them. They were seated with Mario Peralta and Pedro Vega, the chubby flight engineer, as Fernando Aragão caught up to them.
“Did you see the dirty looks we got from our passengers as they were getting on that bus?” Frade replied.
“That’s probably because that bus has been in service since the First World War and we were getting into Fernando’s nice, nearly new American station wagon,” Delgano said.
“Glad to be of some service,” Aragão said.
The bartender approached them.
Frade gasped and otherwise mimed that he was dying of dehydration.
“Welcome back to Lisbon, Señor Frade,” the bartender said, and without orders set two glasses, a siphon bottle of water, and a wine bottle on the bar.
As the barman pulled the cork from the wine bottle, Frade poured and drank two glasses of the soda water.
“I was thinking,” Frade said, “that if there is one thing diplomats really need and seldom get it’s a lesson in humility.” He paused, went through the ritual of testing the wine, then said to the bartender, “Very nice. After you fill my glass, give small quantities to my friends.”
“Humility? Such as getting on the ancient bus?” Peralta asked.
“That was a start, but what I’m thinking right now is to ask Fernando to have a word with the hotel manager, which will result in all of them being placed in no more than three or four rooms.”
Peralta laughed.
“Don’t laugh, Mario,” Delgano said. “He’s serious.”
“Moot point,” Pedro Vega, who Clete was now sure was a BIS agent, said. He pointed to the lobby. “Too late. They’re here.”
“Damn!” Clete said. “Well, I guess we could ask Fernando to forget re-icing the food containers.”
“Don’t do that, Clete,” Delgano said. “José Ruiz is the exception to the rule about diplomats, and it’s been a long time since he’s had a decent bife de chorizo.”
“You’re running me out of ideas, Gonzo,” Frade said. “But . . . how about having Fernando tell the headwaiter they’re all lousy tippers?”
“Maybe they could forget to put towels in those three rooms,” Peralta offered.
“Better yet,” Pedro Vega said, “have them pour water on the rolls of toilet paper in their baños. We used to do that at the Academy, remember?”
“Pedro, you’re as evil as Cletus,” Delgano said.
“I consider that a compliment, mi coronel,” Vega said.
“Or we could have Mario fly the next leg, presuming we get clearances. That way they would be airsick all the way,” Frade said.
“And I was just starting to like you,” Peralta said.
“Speaking of clearances,” Frade said. “Fernando, what’s with the no clearances?”
“What’s interesting,” Aragão replied, “is that there were—yesterday—clearances. But five hours ago they were canceled. I asked London about it, and they said it was probably the Russians being difficult, but that’s all they knew.”
“The Russians?” Delgano asked incredulously.
Aragão looked at Clete for permission to answer the question.
“Tell them,” Clete said. “They’re friends.”
Aragão nodded and said: “The story I got is that the Russians, after talking Eisenhower into letting them take Berlin, had no intention of allowing anybody else in, the agreements dividing Berlin into American, English, French, and Russian zones to the contrary notwithstanding.
“General White screwed that up for the Russians when he (a) took the Second Armored Division into Berlin without Russian permission—or Eisenhower’s—and (b) threw the Red Army out of what was agreed to be the American zone. Our guy in London suspects the Russians don’t want us to have any control over the airports, or even fly into Berlin unless we ask for permission. Eisenhower, finally realizing the Russians are trying to screw him, has no intention of asking their permission, as that would imply they have the right to say no.”
If Delgano, Peralta, or Vega was curious how it was that the Portuguese station chief for SAA could call London and come up with that sort of information, they were too prudent to ask.
“Is there an airport in our zone?” Frade asked.
Aragão nodded. “Tempelhof.”
“The Americans have Tempelhof?” von Wachtstein asked.
“London told me General White has it surrounded by tanks and has been flying his Piper Cubs into it from his Division Rear, which is still at the other side of the Elbe River. You know something about Tempelhof?”
“It’s—it used to be—Lufthansa’s terminal. Good airport. I could get the Connie into it with no trouble.”
If Aragão was curious to know how an SAA pilot knew so much about Tempelhof, he was too prudent to ask. But von Wachtstein saw the look on his face. And so did Frade.
“Fernando,” Clete said, “say hello to Special Agent Peter von Wachtstein of the OSS, formerly major of the Luftwaffe. Peter, Fernando is the OSS station chief here.”
Aragão didn’t reply but looked at Boltitz.
Clete went on: “And Special Agent Karl Boltitz used to be Kapitän zur See of the Kriegsmarine. When we get to Germany, he’s going to see what his U-boat buddies can tell us about all these submarines that Mr. Dulles tells us are supposed to be headed for Argentina.”
“Damn it,” Aragão suddenly exclaimed.
Clete looked on curiously as Aragão stabbed his right hand into his suitcoat and came out with a sealed envelope.
“This came for you earlier, Clete. There’ve been fifty different stories making the rounds about those subs, each harder to swallow than the other. And I’m not sure this helps.”
Frade took the envelope, opened it, and extracted the single page inside. His eyes fell to it: PRIORITY
TOP SECRETDUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
FROM AGGIE
TO TEXVIA OSS LISBON STATION
MSG NO 412 1805 GREENWICH 16 MAY 1945
LAST NIGHT—15 MAY—DAVID BRUCE DISPATCHED FOUR AGENTS FROM OSS LONDON STATION TO BERGEN NORWAY TO INTERVIEW SIXTEEN (16) GERMAN POWS BEING HELD THERE. OUR INFORMATION IS THAT CAPTAIN SCHAFFER OF U-977 GAVE HIS MARRIED CREWMEN THE OPTION OF CONTINUING ABOARD OR BEING PUT ASHORE IN EUROPE TO REJOIN THEIR FAMILIES. ON 10 MAY THE TOTAL OF NINETEEN (19) WHO TOOK HIM UP ON THE OFFER WENT ASHORE BY DINGHY AT HOLSENOY ISLAND NORWAY. SIXTEEN (16) SURRENDERED TO BE REPATRIATED. THREE (3) REMAIN AT LARGE.
IN INITIAL INTERVEWS NONE OF THE POWS SAID THEY HAD SEEN ANYBODY ONBOARD OTHER THAN FELLOW SUBMARINERS.
FURTHER, MARSHAL ZHUKOV IN BERLIN REPORTS THAT RUSSIAN AGENTS HAVE THE CHARRED REMAINS OF HITLER AND HIS BRIDE AS WELL AS THE GOEBBELS FAMILY AND OTHERS. ZHUKOV SAID THE REMAINS WERE RECOVERED OUTSIDE THE FUHRERBUNKER, IN THE REICH CHANCELLERY GARDEN. WHILE THE RUSSIANS ARE NOT EXACTLY BEING PARAGONS OF HONESTY WE HAVE NO REASON NOT TO BELIEVE THEM IN THIS INSTANCE.
MEANTIME SCORES OF ATTACK U-BOATS HAVE FOLLOWED THE ORDER OF ADMIRAL DONITZ TO STAND DOWN AND SURRENDER WITH THEIR CREWS. OPERATION DEADLIGHT WILL SEE THESE VESSELS SCUTTLED. U-977 AND U-234 ARE NOT AMONG THOSE HAVING SURRENDERED AND THEIR WHEREABOUTS AND ANY POSSIBLE TANKER U-BOATS REMAIN UNKNOWN. WE CAN ONLY PRESUME THEY CONTINUE EN ROUTE TO ARGENTINA. GEN BENDICK HAS BEEN ALERTED.