Keeping Secrets (48 page)

“I suppose not. I heard someone talking about a group baptismal service down at San Pedro Creek on Saturday, though. I'm kind of curious as to whether he'll go. I'll just continue to shadow the Cabot house all week, and go down there early Saturday morning to see if he leaves in the car. One of the peculiar things about this is that he has always been so reluctant to use Cabot's car.”

“Sounds like he's becoming a little on the sly side, doesn't it.”

“Yes—that's unusual for him.”

“Well, be careful.”

I replaced the phone receiver. Lately Edwin was always cautioning me.

Very early on Saturday morning, I was stationed not far from the Cabot house, awaiting the appearance of Nathan in the Overland. My gloved hands thrust deep into my coat pockets, my breath corning out in icy puffs, I was wishing for an invitation into any warm parlor and chastising myself for being such an eager spy. Eventually, Nathan did round the corner in the Overland, and I thought, so what does that prove? Almost everybody gets baptized at some point in their lives.

There was no longer any question our country was tooling up for war. Draft age had been set between eighteen and forty-five years. The Army was buying more property to expand Fort Sam, and opening a school for chauffeurs and mechanics to maintain the legion of new Army motor trucks arriving. Keith could hardly study for midterm exams, his mind was so involved in the prospect of military duty, and Nathan would not even look up at me from his desk.

Edwin was picking up a huge zero from Allan at the telegraph office, and his only question for me was regarding delivery of the note to Electra. I was about ready to start biting my nails, wishing something would happen, yet afraid it would, and grasping for something to tell Edwin to divert his interest from Electra.

Toward the end of the month an interesting development came about. Tetzel brought a group of four men into his office, none of whom I had ever seen, and when the door was closed I hurried to the machine and turned it on. It was obvious they had been discussing the possibility of the sale of the bank, apparently for some time. Why this should have so astonished me, I can't tell. Regardless of the way things turned out, Tetzel would probably wind up divesting himself of San Antonio interests and going—where?—to Mexico? Back to Germany?

Edwin was called out of town for a couple of weeks, so it was not until his return that I was able to tell him about the news. What he had to tell me, however, was far more important and a great deal more startling.

22

The German Foreign Office had made two choices: first of all, they intended to begin unrestricted submarine warfare on February 1. Yet officially they still hoped to keep the United States neutral. In the event that was impossible, they intended to seek out the Mexican President for an alliance under the terms that Germany would give general financial support, and the promise that Mexico would reconquer lost territory in Mexico, Arizona, and Texas.

Further, the President of Mexico was to be encouraged to communicate with Japan regarding a triple alliance among the countries.

“Reconquer part of the United States—are they serious?” I squealed.

“They're not playing tiddlywinks.”

“And Japan—where does it come in?”

“Your ‘third party.' We assumed they referred to a person.”

“How did you get this information?”

“A cable from Zimmermann, transmitted in code to the German ambassador at Washington, for forwarding to von Eckhardt in Mexico, was discovered and deciphered by the British. There is only one reason for you and me to be in on this little surprise. We have to find out if Tetzel plays a part in it.

“I've checked the telegraph office. There have been no wires sent by him, or received lately. What do you find?”

“Nothing. Except, he's trying to sell the bank.”

“Keep a close watch. It looks as though Tetzel is possibly being kicked … out.”

“Why do you think Tetzel was so against Japan?”

“Exactly the reasons he named. They're as fickle as a southern belle, although they've been disgruntled with the United States since the trouble out in California, and that leads some of the Germans to think they might be willing to side with them.”

“But not Tetzel.”

“Right; anyhow, they're not industrialized enough to be of much help as an ally.”

“‘Industry,'” I repeated. “We always thought it referred to a personal trait.”

“Just goes to show you the power of words.”

“Do you think they shoved him out because of that quibble?”

“More than likely it was just so much political backbiting. In my opinion Tetzel is smarter than the rest of 'em.”

“They're also going against his wishes in dealing with Carranza.”

“They're selling arms to Carranza now, and dispatching German and Austrian reservists below the border.”

“Does that mean he's co-operating?”

“No. It just means they're confident he will.”

“Golly.”

“Oh yes, I've got something for you from someone high up in the organization.” He felt around in his pockets, then brought out a small envelope from one and stuffed it in my hand. When he was gone I opened it up to find fifteen dollars.

We had both been mistaken that Tetzel's corner of the triangle had been chopped off, however, as we soon found out. Though no copy of the wire for von Eckhardt followed from the German Foreign Office to Tetzel, there came a brief wire dispatching Tetzel to Mexico City for a meeting with von Eckhardt. On the morning of January 25, the day which marked the beginning of Pershing's troop withdrawal from Mexico, he walked in brusquely and said, “I have to leave town on business today … I should be back by late next week.”

“Anything you'll need to take along?” I asked.

“No. I believe I have everything I need. If I should receive a call from a James Parker, tell him I'll return it next week.”

I'd overheard the name Parker during the meeting so recently conducted about the sale of the bank. Mr. Tetzel looked tired and drawn that morning. I offered to bring him a cup of coffee, and he gave me a sort of wistful smile—or so it seemed to me—and said, “You take such good care of me, Camille.” I knew it was not right to feel sorry for him, yet I did.

He returned right on schedule the following week, and Allan in the telegraph office reported that on the day of Tetzel's return, he promptly sent a wire to Mortimer Krantz in the Foreign Office. “I believe I have persuaded V.E. to hold off a bit longer on that which concerns us. However, there is of course nothing that can be done about the other. The edict has been signed.” Tetzel's spirits were undeniably brighter.

“So he's still in the game,” I told Edwin. “You know, when I think of the times I've wondered why you didn't just round up the evidence and pick him up, I feel ridiculous.”

“Yes … the plot is gettin' thicker than molasses.”

“And the German Government has no idea the secret's already out.”

“The decoded message from Zimmermann is sitting on President Wilson's desk, like a death warrant.”

“While they continue talking ‘officially' about peace terms.”

On the thirty-first of January, Wilson was handed Germany's official announcement of their intention to conduct unrestricted submarine warfare, briefly stating that since their efforts at peace had been declined by the Allies, they would establish a U-Boat blockade along a line twenty miles from the coasts of Allied countries across which no one would pass, in order to bring an end to the war by the use of a “starvation blockade” of England.

Their only concession to us was the permission of one ship per week to pass unharmed between Falmouth, England, and the United States, plus the guaranteed safety of our ships already en route from neutral to Allied countries.

Wilson immediately broke off diplomatic relations with Germany, sent the German ambassador his passport to go home, and ordered our ambassador, Gerard, to return from Germany to this country. Still, the public did not know about Zimmermann's telegram, and many people wondered why the President took such drastic steps over what surely was an understandable measure on the part of Germany. People in the office chatted incessantly about the prospects of going to war, their views toward President Wilson's action divided almost equally. I stayed out of the conversations altogether, pretending to be terribly busy.

News releases began appearing in the papers from Zimmermann himself, expressing surprise at our reaction to the “starvation blockade,” not knowing that the telegram over his signature, proving his country's betrayal of us, had been unmasked a couple of weeks earlier.

Tetzel went about his work much as usual, except that he did begin sifting through old mail and directing memos to be sent now and then. He held another meeting with the men interested in buying the bank, and from this meeting I got clear indications he was holding out for a higher price, stock options less attractive than cold cash. I believe he was trying to appear to be a hard bargainer. Should he rush through too quickly, he might arouse suspicion at such unorthodox terms. He wanted to work them into a corner where they would be obliged to come to his terms, before time ran out and he was forced to disclose his impatience at ridding himself of the bank so he could flee the country with his pockets full. I am sure this was why he began negotiations so many months in advance.

On the evening of Monday, February 5, Edwin contacted me. Another telegram for Tetzel had been picked up: “Come at once,” from someone at the German Embassy in Mexico City called “Toto.” Neither of us knew the reason for the sudden summons, and doubtless Tetzel was puzzled by it, too. He phoned the office Tuesday morning to tell me he had to leave town again, with obvious irritation in his voice, and he said he would be back by the first of next week.

When he returned there began a series of events that were as quick and irreversible as the spark on the fuse of a powder keg.

23

Tetzel came in early the following Monday. In fact he was already at his desk, hat and coat off, sleeves rolled up, before I arrived. I slipped in unobtrusively to fill his inkwell and glance over his desk as I laid down the bank reports. All I could gather was that he was composing something long and detailed. He mumbled a terse “good morning,” indicating he didn't want to be bothered, so I took off my coat and went to work.

Around eleven o'clock he left the office. I looked over his desk after he'd gone, but found nothing unusual. I was afraid to take time to go through the safe. By afternoon he was back, phoning Parker to set up another meeting in his office for three o'clock, and looking with renewed interest at untended items on his desk. He called me in to dictate a few memos, and when we were finished he said, “By the way, Mrs. Tetzel has some friends coming in from another city this Friday, so she wants to plan a dinner dance for Saturday night. Do you think you could come over and help us?”

“Of course. That's—let's see, the seventeenth?”

“I believe so”—glancing at his calendar—“yes.”

At three o'clock I was stationed at the machine, listening with growing bewilderment as he called off the sale of the bank, disregarding all arguments of the buyers.

I went home at six wondering, what gives now? There was a note under my door from Edwin, asking that we meet at a little cafe on Commerce at seven. The answer to my question was soon forthcoming.

Tetzel had sent a rather lengthy wire to Mortimer Krantz in the Foreign Office earlier that day, which stated that since they had dealt him out, and decided to act now toward making an alliance, he would be willing to call off their association and to keep their secrets in return for their keeping his.

“Sounds like blackmail,” I said.

“I believe the Foreign Office dealt directly with von Eckhardt in urging him to begin alliance talks now, rather than awaiting either the entry of the United States into the war or the takeover by Barrista. It's likely the seat is growing hot over in Germany about now.

“However, they dealt behind Tetzel's back, obviously, and whoever the code name ‘Toto' refers to in the embassy in Mexico is undoubtedly on the lookout for Tetzel. Since his agent in New York—R. M. Francke—suddenly disappeared, I have a feeling they are one and the same. The wire we picked up today, from Tetzel to Krantz, said that it was ‘unfortunate V.E. was unable to spare me an appointment.'”

“From what happened today I can tell you what is in the works,” I said. “Tetzel is figuring on moving right out of this thing as though he was never part of it. There's no evidence of any consequence against him, as far as he knows. He can just go back to normal now as if none of this ever took place. He has called off the sale of the bank and planned a big party for next Saturday night.”

“Oh? Hm …”

“Did the note to Krantz say anything about calling off the revolution?”

“It said as far as he was concerned everything below the border would go as planned, that it was out of his hands at this point, anyway.”

“So he intends to leave Cabot and Barrista dangling in midair?”

“Not necessarily. The money's already been spent and the plans are made. If Carranza decides to play ball with Germany, then Barrista and Cabot are subject to being betrayed, but then Tetzel did speak of keeping secrets. Anyway, how can the Germans lose? If they go after Carranza now and he balks, they still have Barrista to fall back on, right?”

“Then why is Tetzel burning his bridges?”

“Could be pride. He has been frozen out. It isn't likely he'll be able to go back to Germany in glory now, unless the present department heads begin to roll,” Edwin answered.

“And if they do, he'll have leverage by having disassociated himself from Zimmermann, von Eckhardt, et cetera,” I said.