Christ, Claus, I’m sorry!
Sonofabitch!
“Shit,” Peter said a
loud.
“I confess,” von Deitzberg said from the bathroom door, “that I knew the sad news that letter contained. I decided it would be best if you heard it from your father, if only by letter.”
“Thank you, Herr General.”
“I think I should also tell you that I did not tell your father that you will shortly have the opportunity to see him. I decided that it would be a nice surprise for him if he didn’t know you were coming to Germany.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Sir.”
“Now, about Oberst Perón?”
“The Colonel will receive you at half past seven tonight, Herr General. At his temporary residence.”
“Good man, von Wachtstein!”
“Sir, Oberst Perón took pains to make it clear that he is receiving you as a friend, and not officially. He said there were questions of protocol….”
“I understand completely,” von Deitzberg said. “And my reason to see him is entirely personal. Do you know where this ‘temporary residence’ is?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, then you can come with me.”
“Jawohl, Herr General.”
“How is the beer in this beautiful country, von Wachtstein?”
“Excellent, Sir. All the brewmasters are German.”
“Why don’t you get us some while I’m dressing?”
“Jawohl, Herr General.”
X
[ONE]
4730 Avenida Libertador
Buenos Aires
1735 5 May 1943
“Have you seen much of Colonel Perón since you’ve been here, von Wachtstein?” von Deitzberg asked as Günther Loche drove them from the hotel.
“No, Sir.”
“It might be wise to cultivate him,” von Deitzberg said. “He is a power in Argentina, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he becomes more powerful.”
“Oberst Grüner told me the same thing, Sir. But he didn’t tell me how to do it. Perón’s an oberst, a senior oberst, and I am a very junior major.”
“But Perón likes you,” von Deitzberg said. “Make an effort.”