Five minutes later, they filed back in. “I left the engine running, Herr Graf,” the proprietor said.
The Graf, with Peter following, moved again to each of the men and shook their hands, and then they went outside.
The Horch was covered with dust from the hay it had been buried under, and the Graf read Peter’s mind: “It w
ill blow off long before we reach the Schloss.” The Graf signaled for Peter to get behind the wheel, then climbed in beside him.
Peter got the car moving.
“We can talk now,” the Graf said. “About the only place I am reasonably sure the Gestapo doesn’t have a microphone is in this car.”
“In the Schloss?”
“We will have to be discreet in the Schloss,” the Graf said. “We’re going to drive to Munich to see von Stauffenberg in hospital. That should give us the time we need.”
“He is going to live?”
“Yes. But he was really badly hurt. At first, he was even blinded…”
“Damn,” Peter said.
“…but he has the sight of one eye, and the use of one hand and arm.”
Peter didn’t reply. His mind was full of images of Claus von Stauffenberg as a handsome, athletic young man, and of what he must look like now, as a scarred, horribly wounded, one-eyed cripple.
“What are you thinking, Hansel?” the Graf asked.
Peter didn’t want to tell his father what he was thinking. “A friend of mine in Argentina has a car like this. Almost identical, I think.”
“What friend is that?” the Graf asked. There was a tone of impatience, perhaps of annoyance, in his voice.
“My friend is an enemy officer,” Peter said. “A major of the U.S. Marine Corps. He was once a fighter pilot, and now he is an agent of the American OSS.”
“And?”
“On orders from Berlin, my friend’s father was murdered while riding in his Horch.”
“His father was?”
“Oberst Jorge Guillermo Frade, who was probably going to be president of Argentina. A fine man.”
“And the son and you are friends?”
“Yes,” Peter said. “We are friends.”
“He’s not just using you?”
“I suppose you could say we are using each other,” Peter said. “You want the whole story?”
“Please.”
Peter told his father the whole story of his relationship with Cletus, up to Operation Phoenix and a plan for a refuge in South America if the war was lost.
“Apparently, starting with the Führer,” Peter concluded, “there is less absolute confidence in the Final Victory than they would have us believe.”
“Just before I left Wolfsschanze this morning, Hansel, there was a final message from General von Arnim in Tunisia.”
“A final message?”