by Larry Loftis
Aline decided she would keep an eye on Gloria, regardless of the State Department’s opinion.
Edmundo Lassalle, meanwhile, continued his dance on the front lines of romance and espionage. In a memo to Larry Mellon on May 15, he wrote: “I have become quite friendly with Maria Agatha Princess de Ratibor et Corvey and have now seized the opportunity of using her as a possible source of information and contacts, with the pretext of acting as her protector with the American authorities in the dark future.”
He did not disclose that he was pursuing marriage with her.
He also neglected to mention one other thing.
He was already married.
Edmundo had wed Emilie Dew Sandsten on April 3, 1936, in New York City while they were students at Columbia University. They had resided originally in Mexico City, where Edmundo planned to take up his career, but moved to Berkeley when he secured a scholarship and part-time teaching position at the University of California. Their daughter, Pepita, was born the following year.
* * *
While Edmundo courted Princess Agatha, Aline couldn’t help but notice that Luis Quintanilla seemed to be looking for any sign of encouragement from her. He was still dating Casilda Arteaga, but whenever Luis spoke to Aline, he lingered, always extending the conversation.
With the urgency of Safehaven, however, Aline had little time for socializing. At the time of Germany’s surrender on May 8, 1945, the OSS’s X-2 office had identified in Spain nearly 3,000 agents, 600 suspects, 400 officials, and some 46 commercial firms conducting espionage for the enemy.
Aline kept digging and on May 19 she submitted another report to the Barcelona office. She didn’t normally have any contact with the Barcelona station but wanted to let them know that Mariano Calviño, the former Blue Division captain and chief of the Falange in Barcelona, was once again living in their city. He had been in Madrid, she wrote, as she had seen him many times at the Puerta de Hierro club, always cavorting with pro-German Spaniards.
He was also very good friends with Gloria von Fürstenberg.
I. Fakhry, it turned out, lodged at the Estoril Palacio from August 25 to September 1, 1944—the same time Gloria was there—and appears to be the person who paid for Gloria’s fifteen-week stay. Gloria did marry Fakhry in 1942, but divorced him seven years later. In 1951, she married Thomas Loel Guinness, a member of the British Parliament and wealthy heir of the Guinness brewery family.
II. OSS chief historian Kermit Roosevelt summarized the tension: “Members of the Madrid embassy objected to OSS activities in general, feeling that they themselves were competent to cover developments in Spain. OSS salaries and allowances, often incorrectly understood, caused considerable envy, as did consular ranks of OSS officers.”
III. The State Department’s disdain for the OSS was such that Madrid embassy personnel “made little effort to conceal from Spanish officials the real activities of OSS representatives,” wrote OSS chief historian Kermit Roosevelt. “As early as December 1942 an agent leaving Washington was told, ‘Good luck, you’ll probably have more trouble keeping under cover from Americans than from the Gestapo.’ ”
CHAPTER 18 PAY DIRT
As Germans in Spain frantically pursued their contingency plans—gaining passage to South America—Aline had plenty to do. During the first week of June she submitted five reports, one detailing critical information about two important Nazis. From an informant who had returned from Germany in March, she heard that Heinrich Mueller, the notorious head of the Gestapo, was still alive. Second, a German named Herbert von Bibra—an SS man who in 1944 had become the SD’s representative in Spain, was now living in Madrid. Von Bibra was a war criminal, she reported, who had traveled frequently to Czechoslovakia and had ordered many ruthless killings.
On Wednesday, June 13, she made another trip to El Quexigal, the von Hohenlohes’ magnificent country estate, this time for Pimpinela’s wedding. Prince Max was still high on the Safehaven list of people to watch, and Larry Mellon asked her to find out who the prince was using to transfer money to Mexico. The OSS was certain that Max had been getting money out of Spain, but it was up to Aline to figure out how and through whom.
As on her previous visit, numerous Civil Guards stood watch at the gated entrance. What surprised her, though, was the number of people present. She had been told that the wedding would be “intimate,” but by her estimate the affair had drawn some 250 guests. There were a number of Germans, she saw, including Princess Maria Agatha. Several prominent Spaniards, including Miguel Primo de Rivera, Spain’s former prime minister, were there also, along with members of many of Spain’s wealthiest families. What she didn’t find were Mexicans.
Strolling about the house, though, she noticed a number of photos of Max with Bienvenida bullfighters, one of whom she recalled had gone to Mexico in December. Could he have carried Max’s money?
Talking to Pimpinela’s siblings, Aline learned that Prince Max had gained citizenship from Liechtenstein, and that he and the rest of the family now had Liechtensteinian passports. While Prince Max was fabulously wealthy, it was clear that his most valuable assets were his relationships. He was on close terms, the Hohenlohe children said, with the US ambassador, Carlton Hayes; General Franco; the king of England; and most other European leaders.
* * *
Two days later, on June 15, Aline saw Prince Max in Madrid lunching at Chipén with a Spaniard named Paquito Santo Domingo. It was quite possible, she reckoned, that Domingo was Max’s conduit to transfer his funds. Back in the office that afternoon, she recommended that Max be followed when he was in Madrid. He usually stayed at El Quexigal, she said, and only came to town for business.
She also worked on building her own network of sources and received MacMillan’s approval to begin paying her best informant, FLAMENCO, who would become an official subagent.
* * *
During the last two weeks of the month Aline was busy with assignments from MacMillan, and also with a request from the Barcelona station asking for information on two Spanish banks. While chasing leads she stumbled across a surprising nugget. Through Juanito she learned that in 1939 his father had rented a large finca in Andalucia to an entity called HISMA. After some time, Juan noticed that there was a constant stream of Germans in and out of the place. Aline acquired names for several of the visitors and it was clear: the finca had been used by the Abwehr as a safe house. She passed it on to MacMillan.
Meanwhile, her other informant, COLUMN, was collecting information on German front companies. While these companies had been used during the war for espionage, propaganda, and covers for Abwehr and SD agents, there was a great risk now that they’d be used to funnel money and perhaps stolen art to Nazi war criminals who had fled to South America, particularly Argentina. Since this was dangerous work, Aline recommended that COLUMN be paid.
* * *
About this time Aline received an engraved invitation to a party hosted by Luis to celebrate his saint’s day. Instead of having parties to remember one’s birthday, the Spanish recognized the saint for whom one was named; in this case, Saint Luis. Many of Madrid’s social and political elite would be there, she was sure, and spending time with the increasingly flirtatious Luis was an alluring bonus.
The count’s apartment was on Calle Conde de Aranda, a quiet street across from El Retiro, Madrid’s version of Central Park. Aline saw Luis speaking with the Duke of Lerma and Miguel Primo de Rivera when she arrived, so she wandered through the rooms, admiring the count’s vast art collection. Two paintings were by Goya, she was certain, and another looked like a Velázquez. Her eyes continued to roam and then came to rest on an impressionist. It looked like a Cézanne.
“I was looking for you,” came a voice behind her. “Are you bored, roaming through these rooms alone?”
Aline turned to see her host.
“Not at all. Casilda told me about your collection and I’ve been admiring your lovely paintings.”
Aline wasn’t sure why, but
something about being alone with Luis made her nervous. She asked where he’d found the Goyas, and he touched her arm as he explained.
“I didn’t find them. My great-great-grandfather got them directly from Goya. Most of my collection is inherited, except the one I bought yesterday.”
Luis continued touching her arm as he drew her to look at the impressionist and she felt almost dizzy. Then it dawned on her: she was falling in love with him.
“I got that for a song,” he said, pointing to another work. “The dealer hadn’t the slightest idea of its value. I’m sure it’s a Cézanne. You know, Cézanne rarely signed his paintings, only when he was especially requested to do so by a client.”
There had been two paintings, he said, that looked like the artist’s work.
Aline felt her pulse jump. Safehaven. If these were truly Cézannes, there was no doubt they had come through the Nazi line of stolen loot that the OSS had been attempting to uncover. She asked if Luis could take her by the gallery where he had purchased them so that she could examine the collection herself.
They went the next day and Aline was amazed to see that the so-called gallery was located in the Rastro: more of a flea market than an antiques district. Luis found the store and asked the shopkeeper if he would show Aline the rest of the collection that had just arrived.
“I’m afraid a dealer from Barcelona bought that whole shipment yesterday,” the man said.
Luis chuckled. “Come on, Don Pedro, don’t be lazy. Nobody could have bought all those paintings in such a short time. Why don’t you take a look back there?”
The shopkeeper repeated his answer. They were gone.
Luis asked what dealer had bought them and the man said he didn’t remember. What about the person who delivered the crates? Luis asked.
Incredibly, the man said he didn’t remember that either.
* * *
As June turned to July, activity on Operation Safehaven quickened. Aline recruited another subagent, code-named FRANCISCO, who not only would be paid, but who would bring two of his own subagents. Then on July 3, Aline hit pay dirt.
There was a Mexican named Beistegui (the man she had sat next to at Prince Max’s dinner party), she reported in a memo to MacMillan, who had just returned to Spain from Paris. From one of Prince Max’s sons she had found out that Beistegui was a relative of Max’s, and that he stayed at El Quexigal when he was in the country; in fact, he had been there the week before. Most important, she noted, Beistegui had been making frequent trips between Spain and Mexico. It certainly appeared that he was Max’s financial courier.
MacMillan was impressed but told her to keep it under her hat until further notice.
Larry Mellon, however, urged Aline to dig up more information on Max. So while everyone in the United States was celebrating the Fourth of July, Aline was in the office working up a memo on the Hohenlohe family tree. Two days later she informed MacMillan that Manuel Ávila Camacho, the president of Mexico, had told Max’s sons that if one of them could get to Cuba, he’d send a plane to bring them to Mexico. Then, on July 9, she informed MacMillan that Prince Max had just received a package from Paris, which, curiously, had been sent through the Swiss diplomatic pouch. It was hand-delivered at El Quexigal, she noted, by the Swiss minister in Madrid, Monsieur Brois. And Brois had a second package for Beistegui, who also was staying at El Quexigal.
It was more than strange, Aline concluded, for two civilians to receive packages through diplomatic channels, hand-delivered by a Swiss delegate.
To a finca on the outskirts of Madrid no less.
* * *
As the summer wore on, Aline decided to relieve the relentless pace of the Safehaven investigation with a respite: Saturday morning golf at the Puerta de Hierro country club. It would be a nice diversion, she figured, and the fact that Luis was a national golf champion played no small part in the idea.
One morning as she was duffing balls at the practice range, she heard a voice behind her.
“If you don’t keep your eye on the ball, you’re never going to hit it.”
It was Luis. He suggested lessons and for the next several days they met to develop her swing. A week later he asked her to dinner. Casilda was in San Sebastian, he said, and his sister and brother-in-law had invited him to join them at Villa Rosa.
Aline had heard that Villa Rosa had fine cuisine, but she didn’t know that it was a flamenco restaurant. So after servings of gazpacho, grilled crayfish, perdices en escabeche—partridge in a sour sauce—and a round of sangria, she was surprised when Luis escorted her to the dance floor. The tune the band was playing was a paso doble, a sensual dance meant to emulate a bullfight. Just as a matador twisted a bull around him with style and grace, so the paso doble dancer would pull and spin his partner around him, often cheek to cheek.
Luis was an excellent dancer and his strong grip, together with the sensual music and constant touching, was undeniably erotic.
“I see you’re a real aficionada,” he whispered in her ear as he held her close.
The song ended and Aline realized that Luis was holding her hand, caressing it with his fingers. Then suddenly he let go and looked away.
On the drive back to Madrid neither spoke a word for several minutes. When they reached her street Luis broke the ice, saying that he was leaving in the morning for San Sebastian.
Aline’s heart sank. That’s where Casilda was staying.
She said nothing and Luis added: “I think it’s better that we don’t see each other for a while.”
There was an awkward silence, and Luis tried to explain: “Casilda and I… it’s been settled for so long. Almost before I realized it. But now—”
His words broke off but Aline knew. “Casilda’s my best friend,” she said softly.
“Exactly.”
The walk to Aline’s apartment was like a funeral march. Neither knew what to say, and when they reached the door they stood there, staring at each other. Aline waited and finally Luis gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her on the lips.
When she opened her eyes he was gone.
* * *
While Luis was in San Sebastian, Aline thought of him constantly. The prospect of his marrying Casilda played on her emotions, but there was a serendipitous remedy: Juanito continued to send her flowers and chocolates. Those small distractions, coupled with lunches and dinners with Edmundo, helped to pass the days.
One evening, while she and Edmundo were having a nightcap at La Reboite, he mentioned something she’d never considered. “There are rumors circulating,” he said. “President Truman intends to abandon OSS operations abroad.”
When FDR had died in April, Aline had known that Truman might have a different agenda, but it had never occurred to her that he’d want to dismantle American foreign intelligence.
“Our jobs are at stake, my pet. What will I do? Spying is the only profession I know.”
Aline smiled. If they did lose their jobs, she was going to miss this character.
The orchestra began playing an Argentine tune and Edmundo grabbed her hand.
“Come, Divina, let’s tango while our ship is sinking.”
CHAPTER 19 INTELLIGENCE GOES TO GROUND
Juanito, meanwhile, had recovered from his injuries, and, as Aline expected, he couldn’t wait to get back in the bullring. On Sunday he had a fight at Las Ventas and Aline went to watch. As usual, he was spectacular and that evening they had dinner at the Ritz. Afterward, they went across the plaza to El Coto for dancing. While Aline hadn’t spelled it out, Juanito seemed to have understood that Aline didn’t have romantic feelings for him. He knew that she cared for him, but she never responded to his amorous overtures with anything other than friendly politeness.
During a break from dancing, Juanito told Aline that he had just returned from San Sebastian and that he had seen Luis and Casilda at the Bar Basque. Aline acted uninterested, but in truth Juanito’s words sent her spirits tumbling. She began to see less of Juanito and trie
d to distance herself from Luis, but it was impossible.
“I still thought of him almost every day,” she recalled later, “and hated myself for being such a fool. I knew our romance was just a beautiful dream that could never come true.”
Life would go on without Luis, of course, and between Safehaven, bullfights, and her flashy partner, she would stay busy. That was her plan, anyway.
When she arrived at work on Monday, Robert Dunev met her at the door of the code room. He looked ill.
“ARGUS wants to see everybody.”
Aline, Robert, and the rest of the staff filed into a conference room and Gregory Thomas minced no words.
“I have disagreeable news,” he said without preamble or greeting. “The future of the OSS is now being decided in Washington. Now that the war is over, President Truman is not convinced that foreign intelligence is necessary.”
Everyone looked around the room. The loss of foreign intelligence would leave the United States woefully insecure.
“You’ve all done great work,” Thomas added, “and maybe one day your country will know of the sacrifices you have made. And I thank each one of you. I, for one, am proud of you.”
