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“You heard that before she sailed from Narvik, some of her crew was allowed to leave?”
Frade nodded.
“I knew one of them, her second engineer, Kurt Schrann, when he was a simple seaman. We made five patrols together. I recommended him for a direct commission. I ran Kurt down in Bremen. He wouldn’t lie to me. He said the coordinates for the landfall were also furnished, in code, to U-405. If von Dattenberg didn’t burn the contents of his safe before he surrendered . . .”
“He didn’t,” Clete said simply. “Did Willi know about this document, whatever it is, with the coordinates?” He looked at von Wachtstein. “Hansel, he damned sure didn’t say anything.”
“If Willi didn’t say anything, he didn’t know,” von Wachtstein replied.
“He was the captain of U-405 and he didn’t know?” Frade asked sarcastically.
“Where are the contents of U-405’s safe?” Boltitz asked.
“Bernardo has them,” Clete replied. “I was about to send them to Casa Montagna to see if someone there could find something of value.”
“Clete, I think if we put together what I know—or think I know—with Willi and the contents of the safe . . .”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do to set that up,” Clete said. “I’ll call Martín from the passenger terminal and see how he wants to handle this.”
He turned to Cronley.
“Do you know what’s in those bags you brought?”
Cronley nodded.
“And, briefly, what would that be?”
“Well, in addition to thermite grenades—”
“Thermite grenades!” Frade interrupted.
“Right. Grenades, Hand, Thermite, M14—one in each suitcase. I wouldn’t tug on that nylon cord you see snaking out the side.”
“Spare me your wit, Jimmy,” Frade snapped.
“I’m not being funny, Cletus. You tug on that cord and you can say good-bye not only to what’s in the suitcases but to your airplane.”
My God, he’s serious! He has thermite grenades in there.
And what the hell else? The dossiers I asked for are not that important.
They’re useful, but not important in a keep-the-other-side-from-learning-what-they-say way.
With the exception that we got them from the Gehlen people, there’s no reason they should be classified at all.
“I asked you what’s in those bags,” Frade said.
?
??You’re putting me on a spot, Clete. Colonel Mattingly said I’m not supposed to tell anyone but you. That was my last order and I’m going to obey it.”
“Your last order, goddamn it, Jimmy, is from me. Tell me what’s in the goddamn suitcases.”
“The way that works, Clete, and you know it, is that an order remains valid until changed by someone senior to the officer who issued the original order. Mattingly is a full bull colonel. You’re a light bird.”
“I would say, Lieutenant Colonel Frade, that the lieutenant has you,” von Wachtstein said drily.
Frade took Cronley’s arm and led him into the passenger compartment. It was already just about empty. Clete, arms crossed, impatiently waited until it was entirely empty, then turned to Cronley.
