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Marjie is too nice a girl to get involved with someone who fucked his brains out with someone like Elsa.
Not to mention doing the same thing with that Hungarian redhead in that whorehouse Sergeant Freddy Hessinger got us into in Munich.
And what did Tiny Dunwiddie have to say about that? That I obviously have a natural talent for that sort of recreation. . . .
You really ought to be ashamed of yourself, you oversexed whoremonger.
The Squirt is like a sister.
Even Mom was always saying the Squirt was the daughter she never had.
And—for Christ’s sake!—you used to go to Sunday school with her!
Well, it stops right here!
Cronley heard Niedermeyer as he said, “Clete, none of us”—he gestured around the table at Strübel, Frogger, and Ashton—“know what you’re talking about. What rendezvous points?”
Clete pointed to Jimmy.
“He found the point where we think U-234 made landfall. That’s what all this is about.”
“And Willi helped him find it,” Dorotea said. “You know that.”
“Willi helped only when he realized Jimmy didn’t need any help,” Clete countered.
“U-234 made it to Argentina?” Strübel asked, visibly surprised.
Frade nodded. He began: “This is where we are. . . .”
Frade was halfway through the briefing when the telephone rang. Dorotea answered it and reported that both aircraft had landed in Mendoza, and that all aboard were now headed for Casa Montagna.
[FOUR]
“The Officers’ Mess”
Estancia Don Guillermo
Km 40.4, Provincial Route 60
Mendoza Province, Argentina
0715 21 October 1945
When General de Brigada Martín lurched into the room on his crutches, Frade saw that it would not be necessary to ask his permission to seek the assistance of the Gendarmería Nacional. He had with him Inspector General Santiago Nervo, who commanded the Gendarmería Nacional, and his deputy, Subinspector General Pedro Nolasco.
And von Wachtstein and Boltitz and von Dattenberg.
Shit! I should have thought Hansel would bring von Dattenberg in here.
I don’t want him to learn any more about what’s going on than I have to.
But if I throw him out, he’ll know it’s because I don’t trust him.
“I know who you are, you ugly gringo!” General Nervo cried happily as he went to Frade. “I saw your picture on the front page of La Nacíon. You were standing on the balcony of the Casa Rosada beside our beloved Coronel Juan Domingo Perón as he waved at the idiots.”
He picked Frade off his feet in a bear hug.
“Have you been a good boy, Cletus, or are you fomenting revolution again?”
