Inge could not entirely restrain a sob.
“You might actually have trouble picking up officers in the Adlon Hotel Bar if I sent you back to Berlin, Inge. Moot question. If I send you back to Germany, you won’t get anywhere near the Adlon Bar.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Inge said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“First question. How much do you know about the special operation your husband has been conducting?”
“He’s been conducting two special operations,” Inge said.
“Very good, Inge. That suggests you are willing to tell me the whole truth. What are the two operations?”
“One is Operation Phoenix.”
“Which is?”
“He has opened bank accounts and bought an estancia—a farm.”
“I know what an estancia is. To what end?”
“To provide a refuge for our leaders if the war doesn’t go as well as they think it will.”
“And the second operation Werner is involved in?”
“Jews give him money to get people out of concentration camps in Germany.”
“And how is that done?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I just know that it happens, and that the money goes into accounts at the Banco de Río Plate and the Banco Ramírez. Different accounts than the money used for Operation Phoenix. I know which ones—”
“So do I,” von Deitzberg cut her off. “Who besides Werner has access to those accounts, the special accounts?”
“Just me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“I’m sure.”
“Tell me about Werner’s friends,” von Deitzberg said. “Is there anyone in particular?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Stimulate your memory,” he ordered. “Jog your brain. Jump up and down.”
“What?”
“Jump up and down,” he said. “Until I tell you to stop.”
“He is closer to the imobilerio, the real estate—”
“I really hoped that I would not have to strike you again,” von Deitzberg said, and rose from behind the desk.
Inge began to jump, awkwardly, up and down.
He kept her at it until her face was flushed with the exertion, then waved his hand to signal her to stop. “When you do that, your breasts flop up and down,” he observed. “It’s not attractive.”
She looked at him and shook her head, but said nothing.
“You were telling me about the imobilerio,” he said. “Whose name is?”