The Rhinemann Exchange (54 page)

“
It was you! It was you!
” The 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. 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 any 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, Altmüller will send an undercover battalion into Buenos Aires. You won’t survive it.”

The silence again. And in that silence was Rhinemann’s acknowledgment that David was right.

“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 ambitions. I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

“I was sure you’d be sure.”

“Shall we discuss figures?”

Again David laughed softly. “Payment from you is like … before last night. Only half the story. Make your half generous. In Switzerland. The second half will be paid in the States. A lifetime of
very
generous retainers.” David suddenly spoke tersely. “I want names.”

“I don’t understand.…”

“
Think
about it. The men
behind
this operation. The Americans. Those are the names I want. Not an accountant, not a confused brigadier. The others.… Without those names there’s no deal. No codes.”

“The man from Lisbon is remarkably without conscience,” said Rhinemann with a touch of respect. “You are … as you Americans say … quite a rotten fellow.”

“I’ve watched the masters in action. I thought about it.… Why not?”

Rhinemann obviously had not listened to David’s reply. His tone was abruptly suspicious. “If this … gain of personal wealth is the conclusion you arrived at, why did you do what you did last night? I must tell you that the damage is not irreparable, but why
did
you?”

“For the simplest of reasons. I hadn’t thought about it last night. I hadn’t arrived at this conclusion … last night.” God knew, that was the truth, thought David.

“Yes. I think I understand,” said the financier. “A very human reaction.…”

“I want the rest of these designs,” broke in Spaulding. “And you want the codes sent out. To stay on schedule, we have thirty-six hours, give or take two or three. I’ll call you at six o’clock. Be ready to move.”

David hung up. He took a deep breath and realized he was perspiring … and the small concrete house was cool. The breezes from the fields were coming through the windows, billowing the curtains. He looked at Lyons, who sat watching him in a straight-backed wicker chair.

“How’d I do?” he asked.

The physicist swallowed and spoke, and it occurred to Spaulding that either he was getting used to Lyons’s strained voice or Lyons’s speech was improving.

“Very … convincing. Except for the … sweat on your face and the expression … in your eyes.” Lyons smiled; then followed it instantly with a question he took seriously. “Is there a chance … for the remaining blueprints?”

David held a match to a cigarette. He inhaled the smoke, looked up at the gently swaying curtains of an open window, then turned to the physicist. “I think we’d better understand one another, doctor. I don’t give a goddamn about those designs. Perhaps I should, but I don’t. And if the way to get our hands on them is to risk that trawler reaching a U-boat, it’s out of the question. As far as I’m concerned we’re bringing out three-quarters more than what we’ve got. And that’s too goddamn much.… There’s only one thing I want: the names.… I’ve got the evidence; now I want the names.”

“You want revenge,” said Lyons softly.

“
Yes!… Jesus! Yes, I do
!” David crushed out his barely touched cigarette, crossed to the open window and looked out at the fields. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell at you. Or maybe I should. You heard Feld; you saw what I brought back from Ocho Calle. You know the whole putrid … obscene thing.”

“I know … the men who fly those planes … are not responsible.… I know I believe that … Germany must lose this war.”

“For Christ’s
saker!
” roared David, whirling from the window. “You’ve
seen!
You’ve
got
to
understand!
”

“Are you saying … there’s no difference? I don’t believe that.… I don’t think you believe it.”

“I don’t know
what
I believe!… No. I
do
know. I know what I object to; because it leaves no
room
for belief.… And I know I want those names.”

“You should have them.… Your questions are great … moral ones. I think they will pain you … for years.” Lyons was finding it difficult to sustain his words now. “I submit only … no matter what has happened … that Asher Feld was right. This war must
not
be settled … it must be won.”

Lyons stopped talking and rubbed his throat David walked to a table where Lyons kept a pitcher of water and poured a glass. He carried it over to the spent physicist and handed it to him. It occurred to David, as he acknowledged the gesture of thanks, that it was strange.… Of all
men, the emaciated recluse in front of him would profit least from the outcome of the war. Or the shortening of it. Yet Eugene Lyons had been touched by the commitment of Asher Feld. Perhaps, in his pain, Lyons understood the simpler issues that his own anger had distorted.

Asher Feld. The Alvear Hotel.

“Listen to me,” said Spaulding. “If there’s a chance … and there may be, we’ll try for the blueprints. There’s a trade-off possible; a dangerous one … not for us, but for your friend, Asher Feld. We’ll see. No promises. The names come first.… It’s a parallel route; until I get the names, Rhinemann has to believe I want the designs as much as he wants the diamonds.… We’ll see.”

The weak, erratic bell of the country telephone spun out its feeble ring. Spaulding picked it up.

“It’s Ballard,” said the voice anxiously.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“I hope to Christ you’re clean, because there’s a lot of flak to the contrary. I’m going on the assumption that a reasonable guy doesn’t court-martial himself into a long prison term for a few dollars.”

“A reasonable assumption. What is it? Did you get the information?”

“First things first. And the first thing is that the Fleet Marine Force wants you dead or alive; the condition is immaterial, and I think they’d prefer you dead.”

“They found Meehan and the driver—”

“You bet your ass they did! After they got rolled and stripped to their skivvies by some wandering
vagos.
They’re mad as hell! They threw out the bullshit about not alerting the embassy that Fairfax wants you picked up. Fairfax’s incidental;
they
want you. Assault, theft, et cetera.”

“All right. That’s to be expected.”

“Expected? Oh, you’re a pistol! I don’t suppose I have to tell you about Granville. You got him burning up my dials! Washington’s preparing a top-level scramble, so I’m chained to my desk till it comes in.”

“Then he doesn’t know. They’re covering,” said Spaulding, annoyed.

“The hell he doesn’t! The hell they
are!
This radio silence; you walked into a High Command
defection!
An Allied Central project straight from the War Department.”

“I’ll bet it’s from the War Department. I can tell you which office.”

“It’s true.… There’s a U-boat bringing in a couple of very important Berliners. You’re out of order; it’s not your action. Granville will tell you that.”

“Horseshit!” yelled David. “Pure horseshit!
Transparent
horseshit! Ask any network agent in Europe. You couldn’t get a
Briefmarke
out of
any
German port! No one knows that better than me!”

“Interesting, ontologically speaking. Transparency isn’t a quality one associates …”

“No jokes! My humor’s strained!” And then suddenly David realized he had no cause to yell at the cryp. Ballard’s frame of reference was essentially the same as it had been eighteen hours ago—with complications, perhaps, but not of death and survival. Ballard did not know about the carnage at San Telmo or the tools for Peenemünde in Ocho Calle; and a Haganah that reached into the most secret recesses of Military Intelligence. Nor would he be told just now. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Sure sure.” Ballard replied as if he were used to other people’s tempers. Another trait common to most cryptographers, David reflected. “Jean said you were hurt; fell and cut yourself pretty badly. Did somebody push?”

“It’s all right The doctor was here.… Did you get the information? On Ira Barden.”

“Yeah.… I used straight G-2 in Washington. A dossier Teletype request over your name. This Barden’s going to know about it.”

“That’s O.K. What’s it say?”

“The whole damn
thing
?”

“Whatever seems … unusual. Fairfax qualifications, probably.”

“They don’t use the name Fairfax. Just high-priority classification.… He’s in the Reserves, not regular army. Family company’s in importing. Spent a number of years in Europe and the Middle East; speaks five languages.…”

“And one of them’s Hebrew,” interrupted David quietly.

“That’s right. How did …? Never mind. He spent two years at the American University in Beirut while his father represented the firm in the Mediterranean area. The company was very big in Middle East textiles. Barden transferred to Harvard, then transferred again to a small college
in New York State.… I don’t know it. He majored in Near East studies, it says here. When he graduated he went into the family business until the war.… I guess it was the languages.”

“Thanks,” said David. “Burn the Teletype, Bobby.”

“With pleasure.… When are you coming in? You better get here before the FMF finds you. Jean can probably convince old Henderson to cool things off.”

“Pretty soon. How’s Jean?”

“Huh? Fine.… Scared; nervous, I guess. You’ll see. She’s a strong girl, though.”

“Tell her not to worry.”

“Tell her yourself.”

“She’s there with you?”

“No.…” Ballard drew out the word, telegraphing a note of concern that had been absent “No, she’s not with me. She’s on her way to see you.…”

“
What
?”

“The nurse. The doctor’s nurse. She called about an hour ago. She said you wanted to see Jean.” Ballard’s voice suddenly became hard and loud. “
What the hell’s going on, Spaulding
?”

“Surely the man from Lisbon expected countermeasures. I’m amazed he was so derelict.” Heinrich Stoltz conveyed his arrogance over the telephone. “Mrs. Cameron was a flank you took for granted, yes? A summons from a loved one is difficult to resist, is it not?”

“Where is she?”

“She is on her way to Luján. She will be a guest at Habichtsnest. An honored guest, I can assure you. Herr Rhinemann will be immensely pleased; I was about to telephone him. I wanted to wait until the interception wasi made.”

“You’re out of line!” David said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’re asking for reprisals in every neutral area. Diplomatic hostages in a neutral …”

“A guest,” interrupted the German with relish. “Hardly a prize; a
step
daughter-in-law; the husband
deceased.
With no official status. So complicated, these American social rituals.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t need diagrams!”

“I said she was a
guest!
Of an eminent financier you yourself were sent to contact … concerning international economic matters, I believe. A Jew expelled from his own country, that country your enemy. I see no cause for immediate alarm.… Although, perhaps, you should.”

There was no reason to procrastinate. Jean was no part of the bargain, no part of the indictment. To hell with the indictment! To hell with a meaningless commitment! There
was
no meaning!