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“No,” Clete said. “We do not.”
“So that means the uranium oxide will have to be seized by an officer of one of the armed forces of the United States.”
“Cletus Frade, Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Marine Corps, at your service. Okay?”
The old man shook his head. “Not okay. Don Cletus Frade is in Argentina as his birthright. He is an Argentine.”
“I’m also a serving officer of the USMC.”
“That Cletus Frade, Colonel Frade, is in this country illegally. Am I right, General?”
“You’re right, Señor Howell.”
“Okay,”
Clete said. “Then Maxwell.”
He pointed to Major Maxwell Ashton III.
“No. For the same reason. He’s here illegally, as are all your OSS comrades. How about the military attaché who seized the Storch for you? Is he available?”
Frade exhaled audibly.
“No. For one thing, the American ambassador told me I was not to have any contact with the embassy at all. For another, I don’t want him or anyone in the embassy to know anything about U-234 or the uranium oxide.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jimmy Cronley breathed as he realized the significance of what was being said.
Frade looked at him, then suddenly announced, “Anticipating this line of discussion, Grandfather, I have already equipped Lieutenant Cronley with Antarctic cold-weather gear identical to that worn by Admiral Byrd so that he can go down south and seize U-234 and the uranium oxide in comfort.”
Silence greeted this announcement and lasted thirty seconds before Nervo laughed out loud.
“You got them all, gringo. You even had me—for fifteen seconds or so—thinking, Goddamn, ol’ Clete really is a genius.”
“Me, too, and I live with him and know better,” Dorotea said.
“I smell a rat here,” Clete said. “Why do I think my beloved grandfather didn’t come up with this seizure idea all by himself?”
“That cruel and unfounded accusation hurts me deeply,” the old man said. “Although I will admit that Harry—excuse me, President Truman—touched on the subject of the seizure of enemy assets briefly while we were having our little pick-me-up, and then, on my way down here, when it came out that Commander Ford is also an attorney—”
“Also an attorney?” Clete challenged.
“I have that privilege,” the old man said. “I thought you knew. Anyway, Commander Ford and I discussed it at some length.”
If I ask him if he’s really a lawyer, I won’t like his answer.
He probably graduated from the University of Texas Law School magna cum laude.
“So, what do we do now?” Nervo asked.
“We wait to hear from Grüner,” Frade said. “And we send Enrico and Colonel Garcia to San Martín de los Andes. And we wait to see who’s been surveilling us and why.”
“Does that mean I’m going down there to help Grüner find the U-boot?” von Dattenberg asked.
“That’s what it means,” Frade said.
XIII
[ONE]
