“I can’t think of a better solution for the moment to these Secret Service people than the one we just reached,” he said. “But did you ever hear ‘He who laughs last laughs best’? I think this is probably going to come around and bite us on the gluteus maximus.”
Frade then remembered where he had heard the phrase most recently: when Colonel Richmond C. Flowers had given him the halfmillion dollars in Buenos Aires.
Mattingly then said: “With the Russians having stopped our convoy at Helmstedt, we now turn to Plan B. I think the best thing to do is get our show on the road as early as possible tomorrow morning. Dooley, I want you and your P-38s ready to escort the C-54 at first light. Any problem with you being in the air then?”
“No, sir.”
“Know that we do have a communications problem. We have no landlines to Tempelhof. I told the people at Helmstedt to set up the mobile control tower. What I’m hoping is that it will be able to communicate with Dooley’s aircraft, and that Dooley and his people can relay to both Rhein-Main and Tempelhof and with the C-54, and—if we get that far with Plan B—with the SAA Connie. We won’t know if this will work until we try it, which means there is now a Plan C.
“If things go well, I will depart Rhein-Main—from over Rhein-Main, not takeoff—in the C-54 at oh-seven-forty-five. That should put us on the ground at Tempelhof by oh-nine-hundred. While Dooley’s aircraft circle overhead, we will get the mobile control tower that the C-54 will have aboard up and running. I’m told they can do so in thirty minutes; all they need to do is erect some antennae. I’m going to give them an hour. The moment it’s up, the C-54 will be cleared to Rhein-Main.
“That should get us back through the Russian zone forty minutes later. The minute that word gets to Rhein-Main, the SAA Connie—which will have been, since ten-thirty hours, circling Rhein-Main at altitude—will then be cleared for departure to Tempelhof, and should arrive at Tempelhof in time for lunch. Got that, Clete?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think we’re going to be able to pull this off,” Mattingly said. “If not, I’ll see you in Siberia, the other side of the Pearly Gates, or, if Supervisory Special Agent Stevenson has any input, at Prisoner Reception at the Fort Leaven worth Prison.”
There was laughter, some of it a little strained.
“I will now see Colonel Stevens—the SHAEF military government guy—and tell him to have the diplomats out here to board the SAA Connie . . . when, Clete?”
“Well, if we’re going to have to be at ten thousand feet over Rhein-Main by ten-thirty, that means we’ll have to take off at, say, ten-fifteen. Tell him to have the diplomats out here ready to go no later than oh-five-thirty.”
Von Wachtstein laughed.
“Delgano is right, Cletus. You’re evil.”
[ONE]
Aboard Ciudad de Rosario Above Rhein-Main Air Base Frankfurt am Main, Germany 1025 20 May 1945
“We’re indicating ten thousand, Hansel,” Frade announced. “Commence three-minute three-sixty turn.”
“Commencing three-minute circle,” von Wachtstein replied.
“And here comes Dooley,” Clete said as a P-38 pulled alongside. “Hello there, Little Brother!”
“Why don’t you knock that Little Brother shit off, wiseass?”
“Aircraft with your wingtip in my pilot’s ear,” Frade replied mock-seriously, “be advised you are scaring our passengers.”
“Jesus Christ!” Dooley said, disgusted, then excitedly added: “The C-54 just crossed the border!”
“We heard.”
Communications had turned out to be much better than anyone had dared hope they would be. The Rhein-Main control tower could talk to the truck-mounted control tower at Helmstedt, and once the C-54 had landed at Tempelhof and put its control tower in operation, Helmstedt had communication with Berlin.
Whatever Rhein-Main wanted to say to Tempelhof—or vice versa—had to be relayed via Helmstedt, but it was not necessary to relay messages betwee
n any tower via aircraft. And, of course, the airto-ground communications were also far better than expected.
Dooley asked Frade: “Then why did you just begin a turn? Aren’t you going to Berlin?”
“This is Rhein-Main. Clear this channel.”
“Yes, Mother,” Dooley said.
“South American Airways Double Zero Four, Rhein-Main. How do you read?”