a change of light. Instead of crossing, however, he walked back to the
fountain. He stepped up his pace and sat down at the pool’s edge and
watched the crosswalk.
The man with the wet jacket emerged with the next contingent of pedestrians
and looked anxiously around. Finally he saw Spaulding.
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David waved.
The man turned and raced back across the street.
Spaulding ran after him, just making the light. The man did not look back;
he seemed hell-bent to reach a contact, thought David; to have someone take
over, perhaps. The man turned left at the Casa Rosada and Spaulding
followed, keeping himself out of sight.
The’man reached a comer and to David’s surprise he slowed down, then
stopped and entered a telephone booth.
It was a curiously amateurish thing to do, mused Spaulding. And it told him
something about Erich Rhinemann’s personnel: they weren’t as good as they
thought they were.
There was a long blasting of a hom that seemed louder than the normally
jarring sounds of the Mayo’s traffic. The single hom triggered other homs
and in a few seconds a cacophony of strident honking filled the streets.
David looked over. It was nothing; an irritated motorist had momentarily
reached the end of his patience. Everything returned to normal chaos with
the starting up of the automobiles at the crosswalk.
And then there was a scream. A woman’s scream. And another; and still
another.
A crowd gathered around the telephone booth.
David pushed his way through, yanking arms, pulling shoulders, shoving. He
reached the edge of the booth and looked inside.
The man with the wet jacket was slumped awkwardly to the floor of the tiny
glass enclosure, his legs buckled under him, his arms st ‘ retched above,
one hand still gripping the telephone receiver so that the wire was taut.
His head was sprung back from his neck. Blood was streaming down the back
of his skull. Spaulding looked up at the walls of the booth. On the street
side were three distinct holes surrounded by cracked glass.
He heard the piercing sounds of police whistles and pushed his way back
through the crowd. He reached the iron fence that surrounded the Casa
Rosada, turned right and started rapidly around the building to the south
side.
To the south gate.
The Packard was parked in front of the entrance, its motor running. A man
about his size approached him as David started for the automobile.
‘Colonel Spaulding?’
‘Yes?’
‘If you’ll hurry, please?’ The man opened the back door and
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David climbed in quickly.
Heinrich Stoltz greeted him. ‘You’ve had a long walk. Sit. The ride will be
relaxing.’
‘Not now.’ David pointed to the panels below the front dashboard. ‘Can you
reach Rhinemann on that thing? Right away?,
‘We’re in constant contact. Why?’
‘Get him. Your man.was just killed.’
‘Our manT
:The one following me. He was shot in a telephone booth.’
He wasn’t our man, colonel. And we shot him,’ said Stoltz calmly.
I What?’
‘The man was known to us. He was a hired killer out of Rio de Janeiro. You
were his target.’
Stoltz’s explanation was succinct. They’d picked up the killer within
moments after David left his apartment house. He was a Corsican, deported
out of Marseilles before the war; a gun for the Unio Corso who had murdered
one prefect too many under orders from the contrabandistes of southern
France.
‘We couldn’t take a chance with the American who possesses the codes. A
silencer in heavy traffic you’ll agree is adequate.’
‘I don’t think he was trying to kill me,’ said Spaulding. ‘I think you
moved too soon.’
‘Then he was waiting for you to meet with us. Forgive me, but we couldn’t
permit that. You agreeT
‘No. I could have taken him.’ David sat back and brought his hand to his
forehead, tired and annoyed. ‘I was going to take him. Now we both lose.’
Stoltz looked at David. He spoke cautiously; a question. ‘The same? You
wonder also.’
‘Don’t you? … You still think the Gestapo’s not in Buenos Aires?’
‘Impossibk!’ Stoltz whispered the words intensely through his teeth.
‘That’s what our mutual friend said about your men last night.
I don’t know a goddamned thing about that, but I understand &*y’re dead. So
what’s impossibleT
‘The Gestapo can’t be involved. We’ve learned that at the highest levels.’
‘Rhinemann’s Jewish, isn’t heT David watched Stoltz as he
332
asked the unexpected question.
The Gennan turned and looked at Spaulding. There was a hint of
embarrassment in his expression. ‘He practices no religion; his mother was
Jewish…. Frankly, it’s not pertinent. The racial theories of Rosenberg
and Hitler are not shared unequivocally; far too much emphasis has been
placed upon them…. It is -was – primarily an economic question.
Distribution of banking controls, decentralization of financial
hierarchies. . . . An unpleasant topic.’
David was about to reply to the diplomat’s evasions when he stopped
himself. … Why did Stoltz find it necessary even to attempt a
rationalization? To offer a weak explanation he himself knew was devoid of
logic?
Heinrich Stoltz’s loyalty was supposedly to Rhinemann, not the Third Reich.
Spaulding looked away and said nothing. He was, frankly, confused, but it
was no time to betray that confusion. Stoltz continued.
‘It’s a curious question. Why did you bring it upT
‘A rumor…. I heard it at the embassy.’ And that was the truth, thought
David. ‘I gathered that the Jewish community in Buenos Aires was hostile to
Rhinemann.’
‘Mere speculation. The Jews here are like Jews elsewhere. They keep to
themselves, have little to do with those outside. Perhaps the ghetto is
less definable, but it’s there. They have no argument with Rhinemann;
there’s no contact, really.’
‘Cross off one speculation,’ said Spaulding.
‘There’s another,’ said Stoltz. ‘Your own countrymen.9
David turned slowly back to the German. ‘This is a good game. How did you
arrive at thaff
‘The purchase of the designs is being made by one aircraft corporation.
There are five, six major companies in competition for your unending
government contracts. Whoever possesses the gyroscope designs will have a
powerful – I might even say irresistible – lever. All other guidance
systems will be obsolete.’
‘Are you seriousT
‘Most assuredly. We have discussed the situation at length … in depth. We
are nearly convinced that this is the logical answer.’ Stoltz looked away
from David and stared to the front. ‘There’s no other. Those trying to stop
us are American.’
333
35
The green Packard made crisscross patterns over the Buenos Aires
streets. The route was programmed aimlessness, and Spaulding
recognized it for what it was: an extremely thorough surveillance
check. Intermittently, the driver would pick up the microphone
from beneath the dashboard and recite a prearranged series of
numbers. The crackling response over the single speaker would
repeat the numbers and the Packard would make yet another –
seemingly aimless – turn. I
Several times David spotted the corresponding vehicles making the visual
checks. Rhinemann had a minimum of five automobiles involved. After
three-quarters of an hour, it was certain beyond doubt that the trip to San
Telmo was clean.
The driver spoke to Stoltz.
‘We- are, clear. The others will take up their positions.’
‘Proceed,’ said Stoltz.
They swung northwest; the Packard accelerated toward San Telmo. David knew
that at least three other cars were behind them; perhaps two in front.
Rhinemann had set up his own transport column, and that meant the
gyroscopic designs were in one of the automobiles.
‘Have you got the merchandise?’ he asked Stoltz.
‘Part of it,’ replied the attach6, leaning forward, pressing a section of
the felt backing in front of him. A latch sprung; Stoltz reached down and
pulled out a tray from beneath the seat. Inside
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the concealed drawer was a thin metal box not unlike the containers used in
libraries to protect rare manuscripts from possible loss by fire. The German
picked it up, held it in his lap and pushed the drawer back with his foot.
‘We’ll be there in a few minutes,’ he said.
The Packard pulled up to the curb in front of the white stucco house in San
Telmo. Spaulding reached for the door handle but Stoltz touched his arm and
shook his head. David withdrew his hand; he understood.
About fifty yards ahead, one of the checkpoint automobiles had parked and
two men got out. One carried a thin metal container, the other an oblong
leather case-a radio, They walked back toward the Packard.
David didn’t have to look out the rear window to know what was happening
behind him, but to confirm his thoughts he did so. Another automobile had
parked. Two additional men were coming up the sidewalk; one, of course,
carrying a container, the second, a leather-encased radio.
The four men met by the door of the Packard. Stoltz nodded to Spaulding; he
got out of the car and walked around the vehicle, joining Rhinemann’s