“That’s the bad news,” Alexander went on. “I’ve learned that it’s often best to get to that right away. The good news is—this seemed to surprise both my military and naval attachés—that as the ambassador, I am the senior officer of the United States in Argentina, which means that they can comply with their orders from the War and Navy departments only with my permission. I have not given either of them permission to contact you, or to order any of you anywhere.
“Next, and this is, I would say, a mixture of good and bad news, I had dinner just before I left with President Truman, Rear Admiral Sidney W. Souers, and my old friend Allen Dulles. Just the four of us.
“An unnamed intelligence operation called, for convenience, Operation East was discussed. To save time, let me say I became privy to the President’s opinion of the enormous value of the intelligence we’ve received and, it is to be hoped, will continue to receive from General Gehlen.
“I am also aware of the price of General Gehlen’s cooperation. More important, I was made aware of the enormous damage to the President—indeed, the nation—disclosure of any details of Operation East would cause.
“Allen Dulles told me, Colonel Frade, that you are the best natural intelligence officer that he has ever known, so I don’t have to waste our time by going into details, but let me touch briefly on just a few problems.
“Secretary Morgenthau’s suspicions that we are facilitating the movement of Germans known to be Nazis to sanctuary in Argentina are well founded. Nothing is going to cause him to stop looking for proof.
“FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover would love to be able to hold something like Operation East over the President’s head.
“As would the Argentines, if only to justify their frankly disgusting relations with the Nazis in the past and now.
“As would the Soviet Union. I think you take my point.
“The priority obviously is the protection of the President. The President, therefore, obviously could not have ordered you to proceed with this unauthorized and highly illegal project that you call Operation East.
“As the President’s ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary, the same is true of me. We have never met. I was never here, and you have not been, nor will you ever go, to the embassy.
“I may, however, on my own, or when a little bird whispers in my ear that I should, travel to visit my fellow ambassadors in Chile, Uruguay, and Brazil. My staff tells me that South American Airways provides the best service. I also understand that South American Airways, as a courtesy and mark of respect, often offers traveling ambassadors a tour of the aircraft cockpit while in flight.”
Frade met his eyes and thought, Where we could have a little chat . . .
Ambassador Alexander stopped, smiled shyly again, and asked, “Would you say that covers everything?”
“Yes, sir, I would say it does.”
“I have not presumed to suggest how you should deal with your men, Colonel, but I think I should point out that they are all entitled to go home. They have been here since 1942, and the war—at least, World War Two—is over.”
Frade said, “What I have been thinking—”
Alexander again shut him off with a raised palm.
“If I don’t know what you’re thinking, Colonel, then I could not relate that, either inadvertently or in answer to a question, could I?”
“Point taken.”
“One last thing,” Ambassador Alexander said. “I told my secretary I was going to Mar del Plata to see about renting a house for two weeks at the beach. My driver is sure to report to General Martín of the BIS that I stopped off here en route. Is that going to pose any problems, do you think?”
“You have an Argentine chauffeur?” Frade asked, surprised.
“Why not? I have nothing to hide. If I use one of the Marine guards to drive me, General Martín has to have someone follow me.”
“I don’t think there will be any problems, Mr. Ambassador, no matter what your driver might tell General Martín,” Frade said.
“That’s good to know,” Alexander said.
He finished his drink in two healthy swallows, went to Frade and Schultz, wordlessly shook their hands, and walked out of the library.
[THREE]
Hotel Cóndor
San Carlos de Bariloche
Río Negro Province, Argentina