I have the codes.’
‘But why you? To remove you from Lisbon is costly. I speak
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both as an enemy and as an objective neutral, allied with Rhine. mann. Is
there some side issue of which we’re not aware?’
‘If there is, I’m not aware of it, either,’ answered Spaulding,
neutralizing Stoltz’s inquisitorial look with one of his own. ‘Since we’re
talking plain, I want to get those designs okayed, send the codes for your
goddamned money and get the hell out of here. Since a large share of that
financing will come from the government, Washington obviously thinks I’m
the best man to see we’re not cheated!
Both men remained silent for several moments. Stoltz spoke.
‘I believe you. You Americans always worry about being cheated, don’t you?’
‘Let’s talk about Rhinemann. I want the meeting immediately. I won’t be
satisfied that Kendall’s arrangements are solid until I hear it from him.
And I won’t organize a code schedule with Washington until I’m satisfied!
‘There’s no schedule?’
‘There won’t be any until I see Rhinemann.’
Stoltz breathed deeply. ‘You are what they say, a thorough man. You’ll see
Rhinemann…. It will have to be after dark, two transfers of vehicles, his
residence. He can’t take the chance of anyone seeing you together…. Do
these precautions disturb you?9
‘Not a bit. Without the codes there’s no money transferred in Switzerland.
I think Herr Rhinemann will be most hospitable!
‘Yes, I’m sure. . . . Very well. Our business is concluded. You’ll be
contacted this evening. Will you be at home?’
‘If not, I’ll leave word at the embassy switchboard.’
‘Dann auf Wiedersehen, mein Herr.’ Stoltz got out of the chair and gave a
diplomatic nod of his head. ‘Heute Abend.’
‘Heute Abend,’ replied Spaulding as the German parted the curtain and
walked out of the cubicle. David saw that Stoltz had left his cigarettes on
the table; a minor gift or a minor insult. He removed one and found himself
squeezing the tip as he remembered Kendall doing – incessantly, with every
cigarette the accountant prepared to smoke. David broke the paper around
the tobacco and dropped it in the ashtray. Anything reminding him of
Kendall was distasteful now. He couldn’t think about Kendall and his
sudden, fear-induced departure.
He had something else to think about.
Heinrich Stoltz, ‘third, fourth in command’ at the German
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embassy, was not so highly placed as he believed. The Nazi had not been
lying – he did not know the Gestapo was in Buenos Aires. And if he didn’t
know, that meant someone wasn’t telling him.
It was ironic, thought David, that he and Erich Rhinemann would be working
together after all. Before he killed Rhinemann, of course.
Heinrich Stoltz sat down at his desk and picked up the telephone. He spoke
in his impeccable academic German.
‘Get me Herr Rhinemann in Lujin.’
He replaced the phone, leaned back in his chair and smiled. Several moments
later his buzzer hummed.
‘Herr Rhinemann? … Heinrich Stoltz…. Yes, yes, everything went
smoothly. Kendall spoke the truth. This Spaulding knows nothing about
Koening or the diamonds; his only concerns are the designs. His only threat
– that of withholding funds. He plays unimpressive games but we need the
codes. The American fleet patrols could be ordered to seal off the harbor;
the trawler will have to get out…. Can you imagine? All this Spaulding is
interested in is not being cheated!’
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28
At first he thought he was mistaken…. No, that wasn’t quite right, he
considered; that wasn’t his first thought. He didn’t have a first thought,
he had only a reaction.
He was stunned.
Leslie Hawkwood!
He saw her from his taxi window talking with a man at the south end of the
fountain in the Plaza de Mayo. The cab was slowly making its way through
the traffic around the huge square; he ordered the driver to pull over and
stop.
David paid the driver and got out. He was now directly opposite Leslie and
the man; he could see the blurred figures through the spray of the
fountain.
The man handed Leslie an envelope and bowed a European bow. He turned and
went to the curb, his hand held up for a taxi. One stopped and the man got
in; the cab entered the flow of traffic and Leslie went to the crosswalk,
waiting for the pedestrian signal.
David made his way cautiously around the fountain and dashed to the curb
just as the crosswalk light flashed.
He dodged the anxious vehicles, arousing horns and angry shouts, angling
his path to the left in case she turned around at the commotion. She was at
least fifty yards ahead of him; she couldn!t spot him, he was sure of that.
On the boulevard, Leslie headed west toward Avenida 9 de
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Julio. David closed the gap between them but kept himself obscured by the
crowds. She stopped briefly at several store windows, twice obviously trying
to make up her mind whether to enter or not.
So like Leslie; she had always hated to give up the acquisition of
something new.
She kept walking, however. Once she looked at her wristwatch; she turned
north on Julio and checked the numbers of two storefront addresses,
apparently to determine the directional sequence.
Leslie Hawkwood had never been to Buenos Aires.
She continued north at a leisurely pace, taking in the extraordinary color
and size of the boulevard. She reached the comer of Corrientes, in the
middle of the theater district, and wandered past the billboards, looking
at the photographs of the performers.
Spaulding realized that the American embassy was less than two blocks away
– between the Avenidas Supacha and Esmeralda. There was no point in wasting
time.
She saw him before he spoke. Her eyes widened, her jaw fell, her whole body
trembled visibly. The blood drained from her suntanned face.
‘You have two alternatives, Leslie,’ said Spaulding as he came within a
foot of her, looking down at her terrified face. ‘The embassy is right up
there; it’s United States territory. You’ll be arrested as a citizen
interfering with national security, if not espionage. Or you can come with
me…. And answer questions. Which will it be?’
The taxi took them to the airport, where Spaulding rented a car with the
papers identifying him as ‘Donald Scanlan, mining surveyor.’ They were the
sort of identifications he carried when making contact with such men as
Heinrich Stoltz.
He had held Leslie by the arm with sufficient pressure to wam her not to
attempt running; she was his prisoner and he was deadly serious about the
fact. She said nothing at all during the ride to the airport, she simply
stared out the window, avoiding his eyes.
Her only words at the rental counter were, ‘Where are we going?’
His reply was succinct: ‘Out of Buenos Aires.’
He followed the river road north toward the outskirts, into the hills above
the city. A few miles into the Sante F6 province, the
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Rio Lujin curved westward, and he descended the steep inclines onto the
highway paralleling the water’s edge. It was the territory of the Argentine
rich. Yachts were moored or cruising slowly; sailboats of all classes were
lazily catching the upriver winds, tacking harmoniously among the tiny green
islands which sprung out of the water like lush gardens. Private roads
veered off the highway – now subtly curving west, away from the water.
Enonnous villas dotted the banks; nothing was without visual effect.
He saw a road to his left that was the start of a hill. He swung up into
it, and after a mile there was a break in the bordering forest and a sign
in front of a flat, graveled area.
Vigia Tigre.
A lookout. A courtesy for tourists.
He drove the car to the front of the parking ground and pulled to a stop,
next to the railing. It was a weekday; there were no other automobiles.
Leslie had said nothing throughout the hour’s ride. She had smoked
cigarettes, her hands trembling, her eyes refusing to make contact with
his. And through experience, David knew the benefits of silence under such
conditions.
The girl was close to breaking.
‘All right. Now come the questions.’ Spaulding turned in the seat and faced
her. ‘And please believe me, I won’t hesitate to run you into military
arrest if you refuse.’
She swung her head around and stared at him angrily – yet still in fear.
‘Why didn’t you do that an hour ago?’
‘Two reasons,’ he answered simply. ‘Once the embassy is involved, I’d be
locked into a chain of command; the decisions wouldn’t be mine. I’m too
curious to lose that control…. And second, old friend, I think you’re in
way the hell over your head. What is it, Leslie? What are you intoT
She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled as though her life depended
on the smoke. She closed her eyes briefly and spoke barely above a whisper.