“He wasn’t from here. He’s assigned to the embassy in Buenos Aires.”
“And his name?”
“Major von Wachtstein.”
“Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein,” von Deitzberg said.
“I knew him in Berlin,” she said.
“One of the handsome dashing aviators at the Hotel am Zoo?”
She nodded.
“And the circumstances of your touching reunion with an old lover from Berlin?”
“He came here with Standartenführer Goltz.”
“You know that Standartenführer Goltz is dead?”
She nodded.
“Von Wachtstein came here with Goltz?”
She nodded again.
“And the two of you jumped into bed? Was that discreet on either your part or his?”
“He knew what Werner is, of course.”
“How did he know that?”
“I presume Standartenführer Goltz told him.”
“Why should he do that?”
“They were close.”
“Would you say that von Wachtstein knew about Operation Phoenix?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“And the special operation?”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t know how much Standartenführer Goltz told him.”
“Did you discuss anything about it with him?”
“Of course not. Or about Operation Phoenix. I just had the feeling von Wachtstein knows about Operation Phoenix. I don’t know if he knows about the other thing.”
“Would you be surprised if he did?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised one way or the other.?
??
“How often were you together with von Wachtstein?”
“Twice. The first time he came to Montevideo with Standartenführer Goltz, and then when he came here to take Werner to Buenos Aires—after whatever happened to Goltz.”