“What did you say?” von Tresmarck asked quickly.
This one’s afraid.
“We’re going to spend the night here,” Boltitz said, “and then fly on to Berlin via Zurich on Swiss Airways.”
“What’s that all about?”
“I’m sure Cranz will explain everything,” Boltitz said.
That scared him even more. What’s he got to hide? Was he turned by the Argentines? By what’s-his-name? Colonel Martín? Or is it something else?
Gradny-Sawz came out of the men’s room and walked up to them. “Baron von Wachtstein tells me you’re from the embassy,” he said. “I’m Gradny-Sawz, the First Secretary of our embassy in Buenos Aires.”
“Yes, I know, Herr Baron,” Boltitz said.
“What is your exact function at the embassy? What did you say your name is?”
“I’m Korvettenkapitän Boltitz, Herr Baron. Actually, I’m with the Abwehr.”
Boltitz looked quickly between the two men.
Von Tresmarck looks even more uncomfortable. Possibly because I said “Abwehr”? The Austrian doesn’t look worried at all.
“They’re taking our luggage off, Anton,” von Tresmarck said. “We’re going from here to Berlin via Zurich tomorrow on Swiss Airways.”
“Thank God! I need a night in a good bed.”
Von Tresmarck laughed dutifully.
Cranz came through the door a moment later, and was the picture of charm and affability as he introduced himself and explained the change in plans. “Boltitz thought it would be a good idea if we had a word with you before we both go to Cadiz to chat with Kapitän de Banderano. And before he goes on to Buenos Aires. And we didn’t think we’d have the time to do that while the airplane was being refueled, so we arranged for us all to travel on Swiss Airways tomorrow.”
“But Foreign Minister von Ribbentrop expects me in Berlin as soon as possible,” Gradny-Sawz said.
Did he say that because he doesn’t want to talk to us? Because he wants to get to Berlin for some other reason as quickly as he can? Or to impress Cranz and me with his importance?
“Herr von Ribbentrop was kind enough to tell me the Sicherheitsdienst had wide discretion in this matter,” Cranz said, just coldly enough to put Gradny-Sawz in his place. Then he turned on the charm again. “And really, Herr Baron, after that long flight—which must have been grueling—I rather thought a good dinner and a night in a comfortable bed would be appealing.”
“Obersturmbannführer Cranz,” Boltitz said as von Wachtstein walked up to them. “This is Major Freiherr von Wachtstein.”
“It’s always an honor to meet a holder of the Knight’s Cross, Herr Baron,” Cranz said.
Von Wachtstein clicked his heels and bowed.
“We’re apparently going to spend the night here, Hans,” Gradny-Sawz said. “Before flying on to Berlin tomorrow on Swiss Airways.”
“You don’t seem very pleased, Herr Baron,” Cranz said.
“To the contrary, Herr Obersturmbannführer,” von Wachtstein said, smiling. “I’m always delighted to fly in an airplane I know the Amis are not going to try to shoot down.”
[THREE]
1810 8 May 1943
Five minutes after Boltitz left Cranz in the bar of the Grand Palace Hotel to go to his room for a shave and shower before dinner—just long enough to be standing naked next to the bathtub, waiting for the water to heat up—there was an imperious knock at his door.
It was Cranz, as always smiling and affable, but also all business. “Sorry to burst in on you like this, Karl.”
“What’s up?”