Honor Bound
Page 61
“Jesus Christ, no! Nothing like that.”
“Then what do you want?”
He reached inside his jacket, came up with an envelope, and handed it to her.
* * *
2nd Lt A.J. Pelosi, 0-538677, CE
Army Detachment
Office of Strategic Services
National Institutes of Health Building
Washington, D.C.
Military Attaché
U.S. Embassy
Buenos Aires
Argentina
* * *
“What’s this?”
“If you don’t see me again in a week,” Tony said, “I want you to take that to the U.S. Embassy. You know where that is?”
Maria-Teresa shook her head no.
“What is this?”
“It’s in the Bank of Boston Building,” Tony said. “There will be a Marine guard.”
“A what?”
“A Marine guard. Sort of a soldier. You tell him you want to see the Military Attaché. He’ll probably ask you why, and you tell him that it’s about an American Army officer.”
“An American Army officer?” Maria-Teresa asked, now wholly confused.
“Yeah. Look here.” He pointed at the envelope. “That’s me, up in the corner.”
“That’s you? I don’t understand.”
“Maria-Teresa, for Christ’s sake, just listen to me. You give this to the guard and tell him you want to see the Military Attaché.”
“Why don’t you just give him this letter yourself?”
“I may not be here.”
“You’re leaving Argentina?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“And not coming back?”
“If I leave, I won’t be coming back.”
“Where are you going? Back to the United States?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
“A couple of letters.”
“What kind of letters?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. If I don’t come back, there will be some money for you. But to get the money, you have to take this letter to the Military Attaché.”
“I don’t want any more of your money. What are you talking about, giving me more money? This is crazy.”
“Goddamn it, if I go away, I won’t need any money, and I want you to have it.”
“I want to know what’s in this envelope,” Maria-Teresa said firmly.
“Help yourself. They’re in English; you won’t know what you’re reading.”
She opened the envelope and took from it two sheets of paper.
Tony was right. She couldn’t understand much of either of them.
* * *
Buenos Aires, Argentina
28 December 1942
To Whom It May Concern:
Through: The Military Attaché
U.S. Embassy
Buenos Aires, Argentina
I desire to change the beneficiary of my National Service Insurance from Mrs. Pasquale Pelosi, 818 Elm Street, Cicero, Illinois USA, to Miss Maria-Teresa Alberghoni, c/o Ristorante Napoli, Boca, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Anthony J. Pelosi 0-538677
2nd Lieut CE, AUS
(On TDY from Army Detachment
Office of Strategic Services
National Institutes of Health Building
Washington, D.C.)
* * *
* * *
December 28, 1942
Somewhere in Argentina
PLEASE FORWARD TO:
Mr. Pasquale Pelosi
818 Elm Street
Cicero, Illinois
Dear Pop:
If you get this, I will have done what you always said I was going to do, test the detonator after I hooked up the charge.
Maybe after the war, somebody will tell you what I was doing down here, but right now it’s classified, and all I can tell you is that it was important, and I volunteered to do it.
What comes next is probably going to upset you a little.
I fell in love down here. Her name is Maria-Teresa Alberghoni, and she is a nice Italian girl whose family comes from around Naples someplace. Pop, she and her family don’t have a dime. They work hard, but they’re really poor.
So what I’ve done is make her the beneficiary of the ten thousand dollar GI insurance policy I get from the Army, and I want you to somehow arrange to get her the money I inherited from Grandpa, less thirteen thousand dollars I owe First Lieutenant C.H. Frade, USMCR, c/o OSS. If he doesn’t come through this either, the OSS can get you the name of his family in New Orleans.
Since I can’t use it, I think Grandpa would like what I want to do with his money. If he told me once he told me a hundred times how he came from Italy with sixteen dollars and the clothes on his back. You don’t need the money and it will help Maria-Teresa get a start on life here in Argentina.
Kiss Mamma, those ugly brothers of mine, and maybe light a candle for me every once in a while.
Love, your son
Anthony
* * *
“This is a letter to your father?”
“Right.”
“What does it say?”
“It says that if something happens to me, I have some money I want him to send to you.”
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“And maybe what?”
“Maybe I’ll get killed.”
“How?”
“I can’t tell you about that.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t tell you, that’s all.”
“It has to do with the war?”
Tony nodded.
“I thought so,” she said. “I knew you were doing something. You told me you were an American, and you told my father you were from the North of Italy. You lied.”
“I had to.”
“Are you lying to me now?”
“About what? No, I’m not lying to you.”
“Señor Mallín said you would come to me.”
“Mallín? You saw that sonofabitch? What did he want?”
“He came and said that he would forgive me if I promised not to see you again.”
“And?”
“I told him that I did not want to be with him anymore, and he said that you would come to see me, and want to be with me.”
“Not like that, I don’t want to be with you.”
“When I saw you go in the restaurant, I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Look, Maria-Teresa, just take the goddamned envelope to the U.S. Embassy if I don’t come back, all right?”
“If you wish,” she said, and stuffed it in her purse.
He drained his wineglass, looked around for the waiter to order another, changed his mind, stood up, and fished in his pocket for money.
“You’re going?”
“Right.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. To my apartment, I guess.”
Maria-Teresa stood up, and he followed her out of the café.
She stopped and waited for him, and put her hand on his arm.
“You want me to walk you back to the ristorante?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Is there anyone at your apartment?”
“No.”
“Then we will go there,” Maria-Teresa said.
“I told you, I didn’t come here for anything like that.”
“I want to go with you to your apartment.”
“Why?”
“It will be an interesting experience,” Maria-Teresa said matter-of-factly. “I have never made love before because I wanted to.”
XXI
[ONE]
Bureau of Internal Security
Ministry of Defense
Edificio Libertador
Avenida Paseo Colón
Buenos Aires
1905 29 December 1942
“Would you
wait outside, please, gentlemen, to give Coronel Martín and myself a word alone?” el Almirante Francisco de Montoya, Chief of the Bureau of Internal Security, Ministry of National Defense, said to el Comandante Carlos Habanzo, of the Bureau of National Security, and el Capitán Gonzalo Delgano, Air Service, Argentine Army, Retired, who stood before his desk, their hands folded on the smalls of their backs. El Teniente Coronel Bernardo Martín sat slumped on a leather couch at one side of the room.
The two left the office, wearing looks of self-approval. After they were gone, Martín leaned forward, picked up a small cup of coffee, and took a sip. When he set it down, he saw that el Almirante de Montoya had left his desk and assumed what Martín thought of as his Deep-In-Thought position: He was standing in front of his window, staring out over the Río de la Plata. His hands were behind his back, his fingers were moving nervously, and he was rocking slightly from side to side.
Finally, he snorted and turned to face Martín.
“I am curious, Martín, why I was not aware until just now that you had this man Delgano reporting on el Coronel Frade.”
“I was aware, mi Almirante, of your friendship with el Coronel Frade…”
“Friendship is not the point, Martín. Friendship is friendship; information is information.”
“…and if Delgano went to Frade and informed him of his relationship with me, I wished to leave you in a position where you could truthfully tell el Coronel Frade that you knew nothing about that…that you stopped the surveillance the instant you did hear about it; and that you are dealing harshly with the man who ordered it.”
“I am touched by your loyalty to me, and your willingness to sacrifice your career to protect me,” de Montoya said.
“I am loyal to you, mi Almirante,” Martín said. “And I feel I can serve you best by not sacrificing my career unless absolutely necessary.”
El Almirante de Montoya looked at Martín with a frown, then he slowly smiled.
“El Comandante Habanzo is the officer who put his career at risk by enlisting Delgano,” Martín said.
“You are a devious fellow, Bernardo,” el Almirante de Montoya said approvingly. “I’m sure this was a painful decision for you to make.”
“At first, it was. And then I began to develop suspicions about el Comandante Habanzo.”
“And have these suspicions been confirmed?”
“Let me say this, mi Almirante: If sacrificing el Comandante Habanzo’s career for the greater good of the BIS becomes necessary, I will not consider it a particularly heavy loss.”
“There is such a thing as being too discreet, Bernardo.”
“Nevertheless, I am not completely sure of my facts. It seemed odd to me, however, after I personally charged Habanzo to surveil young Frade, and to use any assets and personnel he considered necessary, that the men who tried to kill young Frade, and who murdered that poor housekeeper, were able to gain access to the house without being seen.”
“But you did not pursue this line of thought?”
“Young Frade made that impossible, mi Almirante. It’s difficult to interrogate dead men.”
“Yes, you’re right, Bernardo,” el Almirante said thoughtfully. “Curious. And what do you conclude?”
“That it’s quite likely that Habanzo has a relationship with the Germans.”
“Quite possible,” el Almirante said, pausing for a moment to stare out over the river. Then he went on, “Let me say, Bernardo, ex post facto, that you handled the situation at el Coronel Frade’s guest house as I would have handled it myself. That required both imagination and a willingness to assume responsibility.”
“Thank you, mi Almirante. I did what I thought you would want me to do in those circumstances.”
De Montoya smiled and nodded: “So then we must consider the motives of the Germans, mustn’t we? Is this replenishment vessel of theirs so important to their submarine operations that they would be willing to alienate a man who may well become President of Argentina to preserve it?”
“If you would permit me to express my thoughts—not conclusions—about that, and then tell me where I may have gone wrong?”
“Please do.”
“Possibility One is that their replenishment vessel is in fact so important that they would be willing to pay any price to ensure that it remains operational—even if that means earning el Coronel Frade’s hatred by killing his son…and/or the embarrassment of being caught by us.”
El Almirante de Montoya grunted, accepting that theory.
“Possibility Two,” Martín went on, “is that they wished to demonstrate both to the Americans, and in particular to el Coronel Frade—and the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos—that they are so powerful that they can do whatever they wish with impunity. They caused the disappearance of the first OSS team that was sent here to deal with the replenishment vessel. By eliminating the head of the second OSS team—”
“Let me interrupt for a moment,” de Montoya said. “What about young Frade? Is he a professional intelligence officer, or was he sent down here because he is his father’s son?”
“I at first thought the latter,” Martín replied. “Now I am having second thoughts. It seems certain that the OSS sent him here to deal with the Reine de la Mer.”
“You think they can sink her?”
“No, Sir. I don’t think that will happen. The man I had on the pilot’s boat when the Reine de la Mer entered our waters reported—I sent you his report, mi Almirante—that she is heavily armed for a merchant vessel, with what we believe are two dual forty-millimeter Bofors cannon, plus heavy machine guns, and what is very likely a radar antenna.”
“A what?”
“A device that uses radio waves to detect other vessels, or boats, within a ten-to-twenty-mile range.”
“I’ve heard that both the Germans and the English have such devices, but I was not aware they were commonly available.”
“The replenishment vessel is tremendously important to the Germans. It would follow she would have the best available equipment.”
“So young Frade’s mission is doomed to failure?”
“That is my belief, mi Almirante. If we are to believe everything Delgano said about the current activities at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, Frade intends to bomb the Reine de la Mer with incendiary devices, apparently designed to explode her fuel tanks, or at least set them on fire. And all he has to do this with is his father’s airplane, which is, as you know…”
“I know,” de Montoya said impatiently. “I’ve flown in it. It is not a warplane.”
“As I was saying a moment ago, mi Almirante, my second theory vis-à-vis the motives of the Germans is that killing young Frade would send the message that they have the better intelligence operation; that they are so powerful that they don’t care if they enrage a possible President of Argentina; and, as a secondary benefit, they protect the Reine de la Mer.”
“In either case, young Frade dies?”
“I’m afraid so, mi Almirante.”
“Pity. It will be difficult for his father personally, and difficult for us, my friend, if we have a President who hates the Germans.”
“I don’t see how it can be avoided. The Americans are apparently determined to make the attempt against the odds.”
“And what, in your opinion, should our course of action be?”
“What I have been thinking—what I would like to present for your concurrence, mi Almirante—is that we do nothing, simply let happen what happens.”
“Based on what reasoning?”
“We are a neutral power. We don’t know that the Reine de la Mer is in fact a replenishment vessel in our waters, thus violating our neutrality; and we don’t know that young Frade is in fact an OSS agent sent here to sink her, thus violating our neutrality. Consequently, however the attempt to sink the Reine de la Mer turns out, we can express surprise, regret, anger, whatever would be appropriate. But to repeat, I think young Frade will fail.”
“And die in the attem
pt?”
“Regrettably, mi Almirante.”
“If your suspicions that that fool Habanzo has been dealing with the Germans are justified, they will know within a half hour of his leaving this building—if they don’t already know—everything that’s going on at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.”
“Delgano came directly here to report to Habanzo,” Martín said. “And I haven’t let either of them out of my sight since Habanzo brought Delgano to me. I don’t think Delgano knows Habanzo has a German connection. And in any event, I don’t think that even Habanzo would be fool enough to try to telephone the Germans from this building. So I am assuming that the Germans know nothing about the activities at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.”
El Almirante de Montoya grunted again, accepting that.
“How will you deal with those two?” he asked after a moment.
“With your concurrence, mi Almirante, I’ll have Habanzo send Delgano back to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, with orders to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open until he hears from Habanzo. And then I’ll send Habanzo to Uruguay with several men—including a young Capitán, Oswaldo Storrer, in whom I have complete confidence. His orders will be to detect and interrupt the American supply line from Brazil through Uruguay to Argentina. Storrer’s orders will be to not let Habanzo out of his sight or near a telephone.”
“And then?”
“When this whole business is over, mi Almirante, I suggest that you approach el Coronel Frade and tell him that you have just learned from me that an officer in the BIS—whom you have transferred from BIS to an obscure post—had the effrontery to recruit el Capitán Delgano.”
De Montoya thought about that for a long moment.
“He knows, of course, that you cleaned up the mess at his Guest House, so he will trust you. But of course, Martín, that means that you have chosen sides—and he will know it.”
“I see no alternative, mi Almirante. El Coronel Frade has reached the stage where anyone who does not support him is against him.”
El Almirante de Montoya grunted again, turned to his window, and assumed his Deep-In-Thought position, and remained in it for over a minute.