“I’m on my way to Australia, and I wanted to talk to you before you go to Argentina.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Graham saw the look of surprise on Clete’s face, and decided an explanation would not hurt.
“There are some people in the Pacific, believe it or not, who are not convinced that the OSS can be useful. One of them happens to be General MacArthur. I’m going down there to try to change his mind.”
“Really?”
“We also serve, we who try to charm and reason,” Graham said.
Clete chuckled.
“The other two men on your team,” Graham said, turning to the business at hand, “are both soldiers.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“They are Second Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi, who was in the 82nd Airborne, and Staff Sergeant David G. Ettinger, who has been a Special Agent in the Counterintelligence Corps. People in the CIC often don’t wear uniforms; or if they do, they wear them without rank insignia. They’re called ‘Mister.’ Did you know that?”
“No, Sir.”
“Ettinger is Spanish, and a Jew. Most of his family—they had a German, primarily Berlin, branch—has been murdered by the Nazis. He’s been working with the Immigration and Naturalization Service, trying to make sure that Spanish and German Jewish immigrants and refugees are what they say they are.”
“Sir?”
“That they haven’t been sent to the United States by the Abwehr or Sicherheitsdienst—German military intelligence and Secret Service, respectively.”
“Do they try to do that?” Clete asked, fascinated.
“Not often, but enough to make it necessary to spend a lot of man-hours on the problem. People who should know tell me Ettinger was very good at what he was doing. Pelosi is from Chicago, and is really knowledgeable about explosives; his family is in the demolitions business. Even Colonel Baxter F. Newton-Haddle seems awed by his expertise.”
“Sir, I don’t know who Colonel…”
“Colonel Baxter F. Newton-Haddle is Deputy Director for Training,” Graham explained. “He runs the Country Club, our training center in Virginia. Both Pelosi and Ettinger are there—or were there until this morning, when I sent them on leave.”
“I don’t know about the ‘Country Club’ either, Sir.”
“You went through Parris Island as an enlisted man, didn’t you? And before Parris Island, when you were at Texas A and M, you spent a summer at Fort Benning, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“So you haven’t missed anything by not going to the Country Club, except Colonel Newton-Haddle’s welcoming speech. During that he customarily brandishes his dagger and tells the incoming class he will turn them into efficient killers…or they’ll die trying.”
“Really?” Clete smiled.
“I shouldn’t mock him. He renders a service. But you didn’t need it, so you didn’t go there. Anyway, Ettinger will be in New Orleans on Monday, November two, and Pelosi the following day. They will travel separately, for obvious reasons. And a team will come down from Washington to brief you. Ettinger will go to Buenos Aires, via Miami, on Wednesday, November four. His cover will be a job at the Bank of Boston, where the Buenos Aires station chief is a vice-president.
“His name is Jasper F. Nestor. We do the best we can to compartmentalize—” Graham interrupted himself. “Can you remember that name? Jasper F. Nestor?”
“Jasper F. Nestor,” Clete repeated. “Yes, Sir.”
“As I said, we try to compartmentalize as much as we can. Ettinger obviously has to know who Nestor is, but he has been told, and I’m telling you now, that Pelosi doesn’t have the need to know that name.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Jasper may or may not, it’s his decision, put you in touch with the commanding officer of the team that’s alre
ady down there. But you won’t meet the other members of that team. Get the idea?”