W E B Griffin - Honor 2 - Blood and Honor

by Blood

  Beatrice's nervous problems grew worse, naturally, when Jorge went to Eu-rope. And when word of his death reached them, it pushed her over the edge. And so, one of the apartments in their house was turned into what was really a psychiatric facility. It was complete to a hospital bed with restraints, and nurses on duty and doctors on call around the clock. After a time, she came out of it- with Monsignor Kelly reminding her that suicide is a mortal sin, and the doc-tors keeping her in a chemically induced state of tranquility.

  Meanwhile, in what Humberto regarded as a cold and calculated public re-lations gesture, and Beatrice as an act of great Christian charity and compas-sion, the Germans returned Jorge's remains from Stalingrad, escorted by a highly decorated Luftwaffe pilot from a very good German family.

  Jorge's remains and Major Hans-Peter von Wachtstein of the Luftwaffe ar-rived in Buenos Aires at almost the same time as another highly decorated avi-ator. The second dashing young hero was an American Marine. In what Humberto regarded as a cold and calculated diplomatic move, the Americans sent him to Argentina primarily because he was Jorge Guillermo Frade's long-estranged-from infancy-son. It was common gossip-at least before Cletus arrived-that el Coronel was probably going to be the next President of the Ar-gentine Republic, and the norteamericanos were certainly aware of this.

  Though Cletus Howell Frade was, of course, his and Beatrice's nephew, Humberto confessed to Padre Welner, a Jesuit-not to Monsignor Kelly, who had already heard too much of his private affairs through Beatrice-that he had selfish and un-Christian thoughts about him, and was afraid he hated him, for no reason except that Cletus was alive and Jorge Alejandro was dead.

  Jorge Alejandro was buried in the family tomb in Recoleta Cemetery with much ceremony-including an escort by the Husares de Pueyrred¢n and the pinning of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross to the flag covering his casket. In her chemically induced tranquility, Beatrice seemed more interested in the postinterment reception at the house than in the burial of their only child.

  The same night, the Germans tried to murder Cletus Frade. The official story was that Cletus came across burglars, but there was no question in Humberto's mind that the same Germans who solemnly honored Jorge Alejandro at the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar in Recoleta Cemetery cold-bloodedly ordered the assassination of his cousin on the same day.

  Beatrice accepted the burglar story without question. And later, when her brother died at the hands of "bandits," she was even further removed from reality. She was absolutely incapable of believing that the charming German Ambassador, Graf von Lutzenberger, or the even more charming Baron Gradny-Sawz, his first secretary, were capable of displaying bad manners, much less ordering the assassination of her brother.

  In fact, she made a point of personally inviting both of them to the postin-terment reception they were holding.

  Under the circumstances, Beatrice's dissociation from reality was probably a good thing. Humberto did not want to see her again as she was when word of Jorge Alejandro's death had reached them. It broke his heart.

  And there were practical considerations, too. Gradny-Sawz was delighted that Beatrice made von Wachtstein a welcome guest in their home. (The young German airman had remained in Buenos Aires as the Assistant Military Attach‚ for Air at the German Embassy.) Gradny-Sawz considered himself an aristo-crat. Thus he saw this relationship between the aristocratic young officer and the prominent Duarte family-and consequently the Anglo-Argentine Bank- as both natural and of potential use to Germany. At the same time, he didn't have the faintest idea that the real relationship between von Wachtstein and the Anglo-Argentine Bank had absolutely nothing to do with furthering the inter-ests of the Nazis, but the reverse.

  When Humberto pushed open the door to the reception, Cletus Frade was sitting on a couch beside Claudia Carzino-Cormano, who was holding his hand. When Cletus saw his uncle, he stood up.

  Humberto went to him. Although Cletus had made it quite clear that norteamericanos regarded any gesture between men more intimate than a hand-shake as damned odd-even between uncle and nephew-he embraced him, kissed both of his cheeks, and then embraced him again.

  "Cletus, I am so very sorry."

  "Thank you."

  "God has seen fit to take my son, and your father," Humberto said. "May they rest in peace. And God, I like to think, has given us each other. I will now regard you as my son, and ask that you think of me as your father."

  Oh, shit. He means that. That's bullshit, pure and simple. So why do I feel like crying?

  Clete found himself embracing his uncle.

  "And how is Aunt Beatrice?" he heard himself asking when they broke apart.

  "I have come to believe that God, in his infinite mercy, has chosen to spare Beatrice the pain she would feel under normal circumstances. I think you take my meaning."

  Clete nodded.

  In other words, what Claudia said was right on the money. She's in the arms of Jesus and drugs, and you know it. You poor bastard.

  "Beatrice will join us shortly," Humberto said, then turned to Claudia and her daughters, kissing them each in turn.

  "Do you have everything you need?" he asked.

  Everybody nodded.

  "I think I will have a little taste, myself," Humberto said, and made his way to the cabinet bar. "Beatrice will be along in a minute, and then we can have our dinner."

  Chapter Seven

  [ONE]

  1420 Avenida Alvear

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  2145 9 April 1943

  Beatrice Frade de Duarte appeared in the library a few minutes after her hus-band. She was immaculately turned out, and the soul of refined hospitality. And quite obviously mad.

  She kissed Clete on the cheek as if she had seen him only a few hours be-fore, gaily kissed the Carzino-Cormano females, complimented them on their dresses and hair, and then called for champagne.

  "Champagne increases one's appreciation of food," she complained, "but whiskey simply makes one gluttonous."

  Claudia Carzino-Cormano, smiling brightly with a visible effort, squeezed Clete's upper arm painfully.

  When the champagne was served, Beatrice toasted, "Good friends. They are always such support at a time like this."

  Clete thought Alicia was going to cry.

  After Beatrice carefully paired them off-Humberto with Claudia, Capitan Lauffer with Isabela, and Clete with Alicia-they went into the dining. She be-gan the dinner conversation with the announcement: "This is probably the wrong time to say this-Cletus would have to get a special dispensation from the Cardinal Archbishop to waive the year's mourning period-but I always suspected that my late brother hoped that Cletus and Isabela would be struck by Cupid's arrow. I think of you, dear Claudia, as family already. Their marriage would make it official."

  "Well, you never know what time will bring," Claudia said quickly, to fore-stall any reply from either Isabela, who rolled her eyes, or Clete.

  Throughout dinner, Beatrice chattered on happily about her idyllic child-hood with her brother on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. The highlight of all this was the story of el Coronel's burial casket.

  "Poppa somehow came into a stock of cedar," she said, turning her brilliant smile on Capitan Lauffer. "Which, unless I am mistaken, is not grown here. Or if it is, this was of an exceptionally high quality. I have no idea where it came from, to tell you the truth. But, anyway, there it was, in one of the buildings some distance from the big house, and one day Poppa saw it and decided he wanted to be buried in a cedar casket."

  "Is that so?" Capitan Lauffer replied politely.

  "So he asked one of the foremen to find someone who knew how to make a casket. The foreman came up with a man from one of Poppa's estancias in Corrientes.... Do you know where Corrientes is, Cletus, dear?"

  "No, Ma'am," Cletus confessed.

  "It's in the north. It's bounded by Brazil, and Paraguay, and, in a tiny little corner in the south by Uruguay."

  "Is it really?"

 
"You must go there, Cletus, and soon."

  "I'd like to."

  "You have property there. It was your dead father's, and now, of course, it's yours. It was of course Poppa's. Poppa was your grandfather, but you never knew him. He was taken into heaven before you were born. Your father and I in-herited from Poppa, of course, but when I married your Uncle Humberto, your father bought out my share."

  "Is that so?"

  "As I recall, the property in Corrientes was rather extensive. Five or six es-tancias and something else, some kind of a business...."

  "Three estancias, my darling," Humberto said with a banker's certainty. "The tea plantation, and the refrigerico"-a slaughterhouse and meatpacking plant.

  "Yes, I knew it was something like that. Anyway, long before we were there, the Jesuit fathers were there, bringing the Indians to the blessed Jesus. You can still see the ruins of what they built. You really must see those ruins, Cletus, it would be very educational for you. Anyway, the Jesuits-this was hundreds and hundreds of years ago-taught the Indians whose souls they had saved crafts, among them wood carving."

  "Is that so?"

  "And that wood-carving skill has stayed with the people after all these years, even though there are hardly any Indians at all left. Long after the Jesuits were expelled from Argentina. Can you believe that?"

  "It's hard to believe, Aunt Beatrice."

  "But it's true. You can get the most beautiful carved things in Corrientes. Anyway, there was a man on one of the estancias who was a really good wood carver, so Poppa had him sent to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, took him to the place where he had stored the cedar he'd acquired, and told him to make a casket."

  "Really?"

  "And the man did. And when Poppa was taken into heaven, your father re-membered that Poppa was always talking about being laid to rest in his carved cedar casket, so he went looking for the casket Poppa had made. And do you know what he found, Cletus?"

  "No, Ma'am."

  He drained his wineglass, and Claudia gave him sort of a warning look.

  El Coronel got really drunk when they buried cousin Jorge, and she doesn't want a repetition of that from me. And she's right. If this keeps on much longer, I'm going to be either drunk or crazy.

  "Casket after casket after casket. A dozen caskets!" Beatrice announced happily. "Maybe more. Maybe fifteen, or sixteen. But at least a dozen. Anyway, so what had happened, you see, is that when the man who carved the casket fin-ished, and no one sent him back to Corrientes, and there was a lot of cedar left over, he made another casket, and when he finished that, another. Isn't that amazing?"

  A maid appeared at his side with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Clete covered his glass with his hand, and got a quick pursing-of-the-lips kiss from Claudia as his reward.

  "Absolutely amazing," he said.

  "This went on for... I don't know. Humberto, darling, for how many years did the wood carver make caskets?"

  "Several, my darling."

  I wonder how in hell he puts up with this, day after day?

  "Anyway," Beatrice went on relentlessly, "finally he ran out of cedar and asked someone, one of the foremen, what he wanted him to do next, and that was the first your father knew about all the caskets this man had made. What-ever happened to the man, Humberto, do you recall?"

  "I don't know where he is now, my precious. I know he stayed on at Es-tancia San Pedro y San Pablo for a long time. He did all the carving in La Capilla Nuestra Se¤ora de los Milagros."

  "Yes, that's right. I'd forgotten. Now, Cletus, I know you've been there. Your father buried Se¤ora Pellano from Nuestra Se¤ora de los Milagros."

  The Chapel of Our Lady of the Miracles, which was equipped with two priests, seemed to be a wholly owned subsidiary of Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. Clete remembered his father telling him that 1,400 people lived and worked on the estancia, whose 84,205 (more or less) hectares (one of which equals 2.47 acres) surrounded the small city of Pila, in southeast Buenos Aires Province.

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "And in one of Poppa's carved cedar caskets. Your father was really fond of Se¤ora Pellano, Cletus. Otherwise he would have buried her in an ordinary casket-after all, all she was was a servant-instead of in one of Poppa's carved cedar caskets."

  "My father was very fond of Se¤ora Pellano, Aunt Beatrice."

  "Anyway, all of these caskets just sat there in the building on San Pedro y San Pablo until we needed one for Se¤ora Pellano. We couldn't put my Jorge Alejandro in one, you see. I forget why, exactly, but Monsignor Kelly said it wouldn't be a good thing to do, and I never question the Monsignor's judgment, but when Se¤ora Pellano was taken into heaven, we used one for her, and now that your father has gone to be with all the angels and your blessed mother, Cle-tus, we are going to lay him to rest in one. I thought it looked so handsome in the Edificio Libertador. Many people commented on it."

  "It is a magnificent casket, Se¤ora de Duarte," Capitan Lauffer said po-litely.

  "Well, anyway, it's going to be a long, long time before anyone in this fam-ily has to go out and buy a casket," Beatrice said, and then changed the subject: "Capitan Lauffer, did you think to bring a schedule of events with you?"

  "I have one in the car, Se¤ora."

  "Well, after dinner I think we should go over it with Cletus, don't you? To see if he approves?"

  "I think that would be a good idea, Se¤ora," Lauffer said, looking at Clete, his facial expression indicating that he was sorry but under the circumstances he had had no choice but to agree with her.

  The schedule of events turned out to be something like an Operations Or-der: Viewing of the casket at the Edificio Libertador would cease at 10:30 p.m. that night. At 1 a.m. the body would be moved to the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar, which was adjacent to Recoleta Cemetery. It would be carried there on an artillery caisson of the Second Regiment of Artillery, and accompanied by a mounted escort of the Husares de Pueyrred¢n.

  Clete wondered about that, but he quickly saw the logic of it. When they buried Cousin Jorge Alejandro, his casket was moved in the same way the six or seven blocks from his parents' house to the Basilica. Because that happened during the day, it caused a monumental traffic jam. Moving his father's casket from the Edificio Libertador to the Basilica, which was at least two miles away, would be logistically impossible in the daytime, unless closing down the busi-ness center of Buenos Aires was acceptable.

  The Basilica would be opened to the public from 8:00 a.m. until 10:00 a.m. for viewing of the casket, and then closed. Seating of official guests would be-gin at 11:00 a.m. Nuns from the Convent of the Sisters of the Holy Cross would provide appropriate choral music from 11:00 until 12:00, when the mass would begin. The mass would be celebrated by the Cardinal Archbishop of Argentina, assisted by three bishops, a monsignor named Kelly, and one lowly priest, Padre Kurt Welner, S.J.

  Following the mass, the casket would be carried by officers of the Husares de Pueyrred¢n from the Basilica to the Frade tomb for interment.

  Following the interment, Se¤or and Se¤ora Humberto Duarte would re-ceive mourners, by invitation only, at their residence at 1420 Avenida Alvear. Because of a shortage of parking, it was suggested that mourners move by foot to the Duarte home. A limited number of automobiles would be available to ac-commodate the immediate family, the aged, and the infirm.

  "I think, Capitan Lauffer," Beatrice asked thoughtfully, "that it would be appropriate for Cletus to be at Our Lady of Pilar from about nine o'clock until the final viewing is over, don't you?"

  Lauffer looked at Clete.

  "May I respectfully suggest, Se¤ora, that would be Se¤or Frade's deci-sion?"

  Beatrice looked at Cletus.

  "Yes, of course, Aunt Beatrice," Clete said.

  "But now, Beatrice, we have to send Cletus to bed," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said firmly. "He must be exhausted."

  "I am a little tired," Clete said.

  "You poor boy," Beatrice said, kissing Clete's cheek. "Of course you mu
st be, with all you've had to do today."

  [TWO]

  1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz

  Palermo, Buenos Aires

  2330 9 April 1943

  "I know dinner was very difficult for you, Capitan," Clete said to Lauffer as they sat in his car before the door of what his father had called "the money sewer." "I appreciate your understanding."

  "Don't be silly," Lauffer said automatically, then blurted, "I felt more sorry for your uncle than your aunt."

  Clete grunted.

  "I shouldn't have said that," Lauffer said. "Forgive me."