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“If I didn’t need you two,” Frade said, “you’d still be outside on the ladder.”
He pointed at Martín, and went on: “The only way you could have known when we were coming is because you’ve slipped someone into SAA Montevideo who called you and told you. Now I’m going to have to fire everyone there and replace them with people who work for me, and not the Bureau of Internal Security.”
Von Wachtstein climbed out of the co-pilot’s seat.
General Martín did not deny the accusation, instead asking, “You say you need us? Curiosity overwhelms me.”
“Hansel and I have gone into the smuggle-deserving-Germans-into-Argentina business ourselves,” Frade said. “We need to smuggle someone out of the airport, and we need a libreta de enrolamiento for our friend right away, this afternoon. Whatever your other faults, you two are very good at arranging things like that.”
Von Wachtstein was now smiling broadly. The other two SAA pilots, who knew who the priest and Martín were, looked uncomfortable.
“Well, you’ve got my attention,” Martín confessed. “Are you going to tell me where you found this deserving German?”
“Some friends of ours who were looking for her found her,” Frade said.
“You mean some of your OSS friends?” Martín said.
“I’ve told you and told you, Bernardo, we don’t even know what those ini
tials stand for. And besides, don’t you read the newspapers? The OSS no longer exists.”
“I read that, but I’m having a hard time believing it,” Martín said. “Where is this deserving German?”
“Enrico, would you ask Frau von Wachtstein to come up here, please?”
“Frau von Wachtstein?” Father Welner blurted.
“Don’t add bigamy to your list of Hansel’s other sins, just yet, Your Eminence,” Frade said. “Try to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Martín chuckled.
Elsa appeared in her Officer Equivalent Pinks and Greens skirt and tunic uniform.
“Gentlemen, may I present my sister-in-law, Frau Elsa von Wachtstein?” von Wachtstein said.
Father Welner quickly recovered.
“My dear child, I’m Father Welner. Welcome to Argentina.”
“Thank you,” Elsa said.
“Does that mean we get the libreta de enrolamiento?” Frade asked.
“That’s no problem,” Martín said. He put out his hand to Elsa. “Frau von Wachtstein, I’m General Martín.”
“How do you do?”
“What I suggest we do,” Martín said, “is that I put Frau von Wachtstein in my car and drive her to the house on Libertador. That’ll solve the problem of getting her through Immigration and off the airfield . . .”
There was not an Argentine police officer—or any other official—who would dare stop a car driven by the chief of the Bureau of Internal Security for any reason, much less to demand the identity documents of anyone in it.
Peter von Wachtstein saw the look on Elsa’s face.
“I’ll go with you, Elsa,” he said.
“. . . leaving Father Welner to explain to your wives what you two are doing with this beautiful young woman,” Martín concluded.
“Thanks, Bernardo,” Frade said. His tone of voice reflected his sincerity.
