than anything you can imagine! Try a man named Swanson at the War
Department. Brigadier Alan Swanson! And tell him I’ve found “Tortugas” V
David slammed down the receiver with such force that chips of Bakelite fell
off the side of the telephone. He wanted to run. open the door of the
suffocating booth and race away.
But where to? There was nowhere.
He took several deep breaths and once more dialed the embassy.
Jean’s voice was soft, filled with anxiety. But she had found a place!
He and Lyons were to drive due west on Rivadavia to the farthest outskirts
of Buenos Aires. At the end of Rivadavia was a road bearing right – it
could be spotted by a large statue of the Madonna at its beginning. The
road led to the flat grass country, provinciales country. Thirty-six miles
beyond the Madonna was another road – on the left – this marked by
telephone junction wires converging into a transformer box on top of a
double-
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strapped telephone pole. The road led to a ranch belonging to one Alfonzo
Quesarro. Seftor Quesarro would not be there
. under the circumstances. Neither would his wife. But a ;~eleton staff
would be on; the remaining staff quarters would be available for Mrs.
Cameron’s unknown friends.
Jean would obey his orders: she would not leave the embassy.
And she loved him. Terribly.
Dawn came up over the grass country. The breezes were warm; David had to
remind himself that it was January. The Argentine summer. A member of the
skeleton staff of Estancia. Quesarro met them several miles down the road
past the telephone junction wires, on the property border, and escorted
them to the rancherfa – a cluster of small one-storey cottages – near but
not adjacent to the main buildings. They were led to an adobe hut farthest
from the other houses; it was on the edge of a fenced grazing area, fields
extending as far as the eye could see. The house was the residence of the
caporal – the ranch foreman.
David understood as he looked up at the roof, at the single telephone line.
Ranch foremen had to be able to use a telephone.
Their escori opened the door and stood in the frame, anxious to leave. He
touched David’s arm and spoke in a Spanish tempered with pampas Indian.
‘The telephones out here are with operators. The service is poor; not like
thecity. I am to tell you this, sefior.’
But that information was not what the gaucho was telling him. He was
telling him to be careful.
‘I’ll rernember,’ said Spaulding. ‘Thank you.’
The man left quickly and David closed the door. Lyons was standing across
the room, in the center of a small monastery arch that led to some sort of
sunlit enclosure. The metal case containing the gyroscopic designs was in
his right hand; with his left he beckoned David.
Beyond the arch was a cubicle; in the center, underneath an oblong window
overlooking the fields, there was a bed.
Spaulding undid the top of his trousers and peeled them off.
He fell with his full weight into the hard mattress and slept.
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1
40
It seemed only seconds ago that he had walked4hrough the small arch into the
sunlit cubicle.
He felt the prodding fingers around his wound; he winced as a cold-hot
liquid was applied about his waist and the adhesive ripped oft.
He opened his eyes fiercely and saw the figure of a man bent over the bed.
Lyons was standing beside him. At the edge of the hard mattress was the
universal shape of a medical bag. The man bending over him was a doctor. He
spoke in unusually clear English.
‘You’ve slept nearly eight hours. That is the best prescription one could
give you…. I’m going to suture this in three places; that should do it.
There will be a degree of discomfort, but with the tape, you’ll be quite
mobile.’
‘What time is itT asked David.
Lyons looked at his watch. He whispered, and the words were clear. ‘Two …
o’clock.’
‘Thank you for coming out here,’ said Spaulding, shifting his weight for
the doctor’s instruments.
‘Wait until I’m back at my office in Palermo.’ The doctor laughed softly,
sardonically. ‘I’m sure I’m on one of their lists.’ He inserted a suture,
reassuring David with a tight smile. ‘I left word I was on a maternity call
at an outback ranch…. There.’ He tied off the stitch and patted
Spaulding’s bare skin. ‘Two
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more and we’re finished.’
‘Do you think you’ll be questioned?’
‘No. Not actually. The junta closes its eyes quite often. There’s not an
abundance of doctors here…. And amusingly enough, interrogators
invariably seek free medical advice. I think it goes with their
mentalities.’
‘And I think you’re covering. I think it was dangerous.’
The doctor held his hands in place as he looked at David. ‘Jean Cameron is
a very special person. If the history of wartime Buenos Aires is written,
she’ll be prominently mentioned.’ He returned to the sutures without
elaboration. David had the feeling that the doctor did not wish to talk
further. He was in a hurry.
Twenty minutes later Spaulding was on his feet, the doctor at the door of
the adobe hut. David shook the medical man’s hand. ‘I’m afraid I can’t pay
you,’ he said.
‘You already have, colonel. I’m a Jew.’
Spaulding did not release the doctor’s hand. Instead, he held it fim-Ay –
not in salutation. ‘Please explain.’
‘There’s nothing to explain. The Jewish community is filled with rumors of
an American officer who pits himself against the pig…. Rhinemann the
pig.’
‘That’s all?’
‘It’s enough.’ The doctor removed his hand from Spaulding’s and walked out.
David closed the door.
Rhinemann the pig. It was time for Rhinemann.
The teutonic, guttural voice screamed into the telephone. David could
picture the blue-black veins protruding on the surface of the bloated,
suntanned skin. He could see the narrow eyes bulging with fury.
‘It was you! It was you I’Thc accusation was repeated over and over again,
as if the, repetition might provoke a denial.
‘It was me,’ said David without emphasis.
‘You are dead! You are a dead man!’
David spoke quietly, slowly. With precision. ‘If I’m dead, no codes are
sent to Washington; no radar or radio blackout. The screens will pick up
that trawler and the instant a submarine surfaces anywhere near it, it’ll
be blown out of the water.’
Rhinemann was silent. Spaulding heard the German Jew’s rhythmic breathing
but said nothing. He let Rhinemann’s thoughts dwell upon the implication.
Finally Rhinemann spoke.
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With equal precision.
‘Then you have something to say to me. Or you would not have telephoned.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed David. ‘I have something to say. I assume you’re
taking a broker’s fee. I can’t believe you arranged this exchange for
nothing.’
Rhinemann paused again. He replied cautiously, his breathing heavy, carried
over the wire. ‘No…. It is a transaction. Accommodations must be paid
for.’
‘But that payment comes later, doesn’t it?’ David kept his words calm,
dispassionate. ‘You’re in no hurry; you’ve got everyone where you want
them…. There won’t be 4ny messages radioed out of Switzerland that
accounts have been settled. The only message you’ll get – or won’t get – is
from a submarine telling you the Koening diamonds have been transferred
from the trawler. That’s when I fly out of here with the designs. That’s
the signal.’ Spaulding laughed a brief, cold, quiet laugh. ‘It’s very pro,
Rhinemann. I congratulate you.’
The financier’s voice was suddenly low, circumspect. ‘What’s your point?’
‘It’s also very pro . . . I’m the only one who can bring about that message
from the U-boat. No one else. I have the codes that turn the lights off;
that make the radar screens go dark…. But I expect to get paid for it.’
‘I see. . . .’ Rhinemann hesitated, his breathing still audible. ‘It is a
presumptuous demand. Your superiors expect the gyroscopic designs. Should
you impede their delivery, your punishment, no doubt, will be execution.
Not formally arrived at, of course, but the result will be the same. Surely
you know that.’
David laughed again, and again the laugh was brief – but now good-natured.
‘You’re way off. Way off. There may be executions, but not mine. Until last
night I only knew half the story. Now I know it all… No, not my
execution. On the other hand, you do have a problem. I know that; four
years in Lisbon teaches a man some things!
:What is my problem?’
If the Koening merchandise in Ocho Calle is not delivered, Altmtfller will
send an undercover battalion into Buenos Aires. You won’t survive it.’
The silence again. And in that silence was Rhinemann’s acknowledgement that
David was right.
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‘Then we are allies,’ said Rhinemann. ‘In one night you’ve gone far. You
took a dangerous risk and leaped many plateaus. I admire such aggressive