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What the hell does that mean? Boltitz thought. That she knows what “just about everything” means?
And if she knows, how many other people know what von Wachtstein has been up to?
“Shit!” Frade said bitterly, and met Boltitz’s eyes. “Do you speak English, Captain?”
“Yes, I do,” Boltitz replied in English.
“Then you just heard how I feel about Peter’s announcement,” Frade said. Then anger overwhelmed him. “Jesus H. Fucking Christ, Peter! What did you do, lose your mind? Why the hell did you tell him anything, much less everything?”
“Clete!” Dorotea said warningly.
“Señor Frade,” Boltitz said. “Major von Wachtstein did not betray your confidence. I was sent here to uncover the traitor in our embassy, and I did so.”
Frade examined him, his eyes revealing his incredulity.
“I don’t pretend to understand you Germans,” he said. “But do you have any idea at all how close I am to telling Enrico to take you out on the pampas and make really sure you can’t tell anyone what Wachtstein has told you about anything?”
“Clete, my God!” Dorotea exclaimed. “You can’t mean that!”
“Put a round in the chamber, Enrico,” Frade ordered. “And don’t take your eyes off him.”
Enrico said, "Sí, señor,” and pushed the button on the side of the shotgun’s receiver. There was a metallic clacking as a shell was fed to the chamber.
Boltitz had two chilling thoughts:
If Frade tells that tough old soldier to shoot me, he will.
Frade is entirely capable of giving that order.
“I suggest we go into the study,” Dorotea said. She inclined her head toward the Lodestar. A man wearing mechanic’s coveralls was examining something in the right engine nacelle. This placed him in a position where he could overhear the conversation.
Yes, she knows, Boltitz thought.
What the hell is the matter with Frade, making his wife party to business like this? His five-months-or-so pregnant wife?
Boltitz felt Frade’s unfriendly eyes on him.
“Does the name El Coronel Alejandro Martín mean anything to you, Captain? ” Frade asked.
Boltitz nodded.
Martín was chief of the Ethical Standards Office of the Bureau of Internal Security of the Argentine Ministry of Defense. He was the most powerful man in Argentine intelligence and counterintelligence.
“Just as soon as that guy with his head in my engine can get to a phone,” Frade went on, “good ol’ Alejandro will be wondering what the two of you were doing here.”
He raised his voice. “Carlos!”
He had to call three times before Carlos admitted to having heard him and came trotting over to them.
“Carlos, this is Major von Wachtstein of the German embassy,” Frade said. “He has some trouble with his hydraulic pressure. Would you please do what you can to make it right?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
“May I offer you gentlemen a coffee?” Frade said. “Carlos will come to the house when he knows something.”
“That’s very kind of you, Señor Frade,” von Wachtstein said.
Frade gestured toward the Horch.
