The Blood Flag by Huston James W

Author:Huston, James W. [Huston, James W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC030000, thriller, Mystery, Historical, Suspense
ISBN: 9781504669627
Amazon: 1504669622
Goodreads: 26587956
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-11-10T08:00:00+00:00

* * *

The meeting did not go well. Jedediah was in Argentina all right. He’d been there for some unspecified period before we arrived. He seemed to know his way about Buenos Aires like he’d been there before; but he said he hadn’t. We met him in a dark bar at a hotel where none of us were staying. Jedediah wore a white V-neck T-shirt. Just enough to see the major tattoos, and in particular, the iron cross on his throat. Florian and Patrick were stunned. They weren’t accustomed to seeing anything like it in Germany. When we told Jedediah how we saw it playing out with these two Nazis, he balked. He said, “Makes me sound like a prop. I don’t think that’s how this would really play out. If this was real, I’d be the one in the lead; I’d have my German contacts, and my American financier. I’d do most of the talking. I don’t think your way will work at all. You need to let me run it.”

The idea of Jedediah running anything was scary enough, but at this critical moment when we might actually have the chance to get the flag in our hands, to let him be in charge could result in one or both of these Nazis denying any knowledge of the flag at all. It could be sitting in the other room. But unless they wanted to give it to us, or sell it to us, or go to Germany and play the role that we had in mind for them, they might just let it pass and not even hint that they had it. To get this close and go home without it was unacceptable.

I could tell Patrick and Florian were considering backing out. The assurances that they had to give the BKA were endless, and caused them extreme anxiety. Their bosses talked about the impact of “releasing” the Blutfahne like it was a virus. Jedediah scared them, but we had no other choice. We decided to visit the two men the next night. We’d visit the first one right after he was likely to have had a drink, or a glass of wine, just before he was ready to go to bed. When he was tired and dull.

Jedediah left the bar first, and the rest of us stayed. I ordered another scotch.

Florian asked me, “How do you know you can trust him?”

“He’s here, obviously to do what we have in mind to do.”

“How well do you know him?”

“I’ve only been working with him for the past couple of months. Before that, he was working with another special agent. He was very reliable.”

Patrick shook his head slightly, and said, “Those tattoos. They are just shocking. Someone must feel something very deeply to get those tattoos.”

I nodded. “No doubt.”

Patrick pressed, “So how do you feel so strongly about Nazism that you get an iron cross tattooed on your throat, and then turn on your friends? How does that happen?”

I understood his concern. “I asked the same question.

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