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“And yet another. Kapitän zur See Karl Boltitz. What is this, Ludwig, a convention of traitors?”
“I think it’s more than that,” Mannhoffer said.
“And who is this man? This young American officer?”
“I don’t have his name. I think he’s an officer courier.”
“Carrying what, from whom, and to whom?” Körtig asked.
“I should have more information shortly, but right now I don’t know. I would hazard the guess that he’s bringing material from General Gehlen to Oberstleutnant Frade. And that would mean to General Martín as well.”
“You haven’t told me why this—how should I say?—gaggle of traitors has alarmed you to the point that you called this meeting.”
“Indulge me a moment, Gerhard,” Mannhoffer said. “Tell me the latest on U-234.”
“There is, I am happy to say, not much to report.”
“I went down there last week with the supply truck,” Lang offered, “and the sailors taking their turn on the boat. We are actually increasing the fuel aboard—not by much, to be sure—but we no longer have to worry about them running out of fuel, as we were originally. Morale is surprisingly high. Boredom of course is a problem. The chief of the boat actually asked me if I could bring two or three ladies of the evening with me on the next trip.”
“Was he serious?” Mannhoffer asked.
“Perfectly. He said that he had never been so far from a Dirnenviertel in his life. Or for so long.”
Everybody laughed at the mental picture of the sexually frustrated sailor desperate for a red-light district.
“If Kapitän Schneider wasn’t such a prude, I’d consider it,” Körtig said.
“He is a prude, isn’t he?” Mannhoffer asked rhetorically.
“A devout Evangelische prude. The worst kind,” Lang said.
“Maybe we should be grateful for that,” Körtig said. “Alois Schneider takes his vow of personal loyalty to the Führer very seriously. He’s not going to wind up on Oberstleutnant Frade’s payroll.”
“He’s still in Villa General Belgrano?” Mannhoffer asked.
“With his brother,” Lang said, “who was one of Langsdorf’s protégés
on the Graf Spee. He was second gunnery officer.”
“I think you told me that,” Mannhoffer said.
“I don’t think I told you the brother has now decided he wants to be a farmer,” Lang said.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, Ludwig, that he’s married to an Argentine woman, has a son, and another in the oven, and has decided that raising cattle with her father offers a more promising future than being repatriated to the fatherland.”
“He doesn’t have any choice about that, does he?”
“I would not be surprised if he disappeared before they can load him on a ship, and that the Argentines wouldn’t look very hard for him.”
“How could he get a libreta de enrolamiento?” Mannhoffer asked.
“If we have one, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has one,” Lang said simply. “Nor would I be surprised if he hasn’t been working on his brother to make a new life for himself here.”
“That’s a problem down the road, possibly,” Mannhoffer said. “We have more immediate problems to deal with.”
“We’re finally getting to that, are we?” Körtig said.
