W E B Griffin - Honor 1 - Honor Bound

by Honor Bound(Lit)

  "Some kind of antiseptic," Clete said, walking to Tony and shaking his hand. "How did you get past the clowns?"

  "I'm holding the cord for the guy with the floor polisher," Tony said. "He said we have ten minutes, and the less time I'm in here, the better."

  "That'll be enough. Tony, this is Suboficial Mayor-Sergeant Major-Rodriguez. Enrico, el Teniente Pelosi."

  "A sus ¢rdenes, mi Teniente."

  Tony shook Enrico's hand.

  "What the hell happened at your house? When I went by there, the place was surrounded by cops; I couldn't even get near. And when I tried to telephone, I got some guy on the line who was obviously a cop, and he wouldn't tell me shit."

  "The Germans sent a couple of guys to kill me; the local mafiosi."

  "No shit?"

  "They killed Se¤ora Pellano," Clete said.

  "And then you killed them? With your grandfather's six-shooter?" Tony asked in a combination of admiration and incre-dulity.

  "I thought you didn't know what happened."

  Pelosi hoisted the hem of his white jacket and came out with a copy of the Buenos Aires Herald.

  "You're on the front page," he said, handing it to him. "I suppose most of the story is bullshit."

  ROBBERY ATTEMPT IN BELGRANO

  LEAVES HOUSEKEEPER AND

  TWO CRIMINALS DEAD

  By C. Edward Whaley

  Herald Staff Writer

  Buenos Aires 20 Dec-An attempted robbery of the resi-dence at 4730 Avenida Libertador just after midnight this morning left the housekeeper, Se¤ora Marianna Pellano, 52, and two as yet unidentified criminals dead, according to Colo-nel Ricardo Savia-Gonzalez, Chief of the Polic¡a Federal.

  "These criminals," Colonel Savia-Gonzalez told the Her-ald, "apparently in the belief the residence was not occupied, broke into the house from the rear. Surprised by Se¤ora Pel-lano, they cruelly took her life, then proceeded upstairs.

  "There they encountered Se¤or Cletus Frade, son of el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, and attempted to murder him with a pistol it has been determined was stolen from the Ar-gentine Navy.

  "Se¤or Frade, luckily, was in the process of cleaning an historic military firearm, a Colt revolver once carried by his grandfather, El Coronel Guillermo Alejandro Frade, who car-ried it while commanding the Husares de Pueyrred¢n. Although wounded, he courageously managed to load the revolver and with it dispatched both criminals, killing both instantly.

  "He then summoned the police, who upon arrival, dis-patched Se¤or Frade to a hospital for treatment of his wounds, and began an investigation into the identity of the criminals." The Herald has been unable to obtain any details concerning Mr. Frade's condition, but a police official who did not wish to be identified said that the scene of the shooting was bathed with blood, that "many shots were exchanged," and that Mr. Frade was "extremely lucky to have survived the encounter." The same official said that Mr. Frade, who has been living in the United States, recently returned to Argentina as General Manager of Howell Petroleum, Venezuela, and has been living in the residence temporarily.

  "These were obviously brutal, hardened criminals," this of-ficial stated. "And it was only God's mercy and Se¤or Frade's great personal courage that saved his life. Clearly, if he had been unarmed, he would have suffered the same tragic fate as Se¤ora Pellano."

  "Everything is bullshit, except that they murdered Se¤ora Pel-lano."

  "The guy that came to get me said they cut her throat, prac-tically cut her head off," Tony interrupted.

  Clete saw Enrico's face darken.

  "Se¤ora Pellano was Sergeant Major Rodriguez's sister, Tony," Clete said evenly.

  "Jesus! Sorry, Sergeant," Tony said. "I didn't know."

  Enrico nodded: It doesn't matter. No offense.

  "So who were these guys? I didn't think they were burglars.

  Real mafiosi? Italians?"

  Clete nodded. "I don't know if they were Italians. But local gangsters. They were sent to kill me. Almost certainly by the Germans. So they knew about me. And if they know about me, they probably know about you. And maybe about David, too."

  Tony accepted that without much surprise.

  "How do you think they found out?"

  "My father was here. He let it out that the BIS know we work for the OSS. There must be somebody in the BIS talking to the Germans."

  "And you just got lucky when they came after you?"

  "I was warned they were coming. And just in time." That got Tony's attention.

  "By who?"

  "Tony, I just can't tell you that."

  "Why not?"

  "I just can't."

  Tony considered that a moment, and drew his own conclusion, which obviously pleased him.

  "We've got somebody in with the Germans?"

  "I didn't say that."

  Tony shrugged, signifying Clete didn't have to put it in words, that's what it had to be. "So what happens now?"

  "I don't know," Clete said. "My father's going to have me expelled from Argentina. And the destroyer will be here in a couple of days. I'm going to have to leave... unless, of course, I can get to use the destroyer's radios and get in touch with Colo-nel Graham. The best I can hope for is that my father can't have me expelled before the destroyer gets here."

  "So what happens to Ettinger and me? What do you want us to do?"

  "Nothing. I brought you in here to tell you what happened at the Guest House. And to tell you to watch out for yourselves. But nothing's changed about the orders I gave you. Just sit tight."

  "If you say so, Lieutenant," Tony said, not liking it at all.

  "Consider it an order, Lieutenant," Clete said, and then had another thought. "And speaking of orders: I told you to stay away from me. So what were you doing at the Guest House?"

  Tony looked very embarrassed. "It was a personal matter, forget it."

  "I don't want to forget it, Tony. I want to know what was so important you went to the Guest House after I told you to stay away."

  Tony looked even more uncomfortable. He looked at Enrico. "Does he speak English?"

  "No."

  "I got a girl in trouble," Tony blurted.

  Jesus Christ, is he serious?

  "You did what?"

  "I got a girl in trouble."

  You certainly didn't waste any time, did you?

  And you're really upset about it.

  For the girl. This is not "Oh, shit, I knocked up a girl and her father wants me to marry her."

  "Do you mean what I think you mean, Tony?"

  Tony looked confused for a moment, then his expression changed to outraged innocence.

  "It's nothing like that. Jesus, Clete, she's not that kind of a girl! Christ, I've never even tried to cop a feel."

  "Then how is she in trouble?"

  "Her boyfriend saw us in El Tigre. Or, really, some sonofabitch saw us in El Tigre, took our picture, and showed it to her boyfriend, and he's a real prick."

  "Tony, I don't understand what the hell the problem is. Is the boyfriend coming after you?"

  "He's not exactly her boyfriend," Tony said uncomfortably.

  What the hell is he talking about?

  "What exactly is he?"

  "I mean, I don't think she even really likes him. He's sort of, like, supporting her."

  Oh, Tony. You poor bastard. You've got yourself hooked by a clever whore who saw what a wholly decent and damned naive kid you are!

  "This man is supporting her? Then she's not your girlfriend? You're not in love with her?"

  "Of course not. I mean, no, I'm not in love with her..."

  Like hell, you aren't. You just don't want to admit it to me. Or maybe even to yourself.

  "... and yeah, her boyfriend is, was, supporting her."

  "I don't understand, Tony."

  "I talked her into going to El Tigre. It's my fault."

  "And somebody took a picture of you and showed it to her boyfriend," Clete said. "And he got sore. And dumped this girl, the one
you're not in love with, and now she's telling you you're going to have to support her?"

  "No," Tony said firmly. "She didn't say anything like that at all. I know what you're thinking, Clete. But she's not playing me for a sucker, Clete! Absolutely not!"

  Sorry, but that's exactly what it looks like to me.

  "Then what's the problem, Tony?"

  "This guy guaranteed a loan for her father-her father owns a restaurant-and now he's going to the bank and telling them to cancel the guarantee. And her father'll have to pay off the loan, and he doesn't have the dough, so they'll take the restaurant. And the house upstairs."

  He probably still believes in the tooth fairy!

  "How much, Tony?"

  "Thirteen grand. Maybe a little more."

  Does he really expect me to come up with thirteen thousand dollars?

  Yes, he does. He believes in both the tooth fairy and in the universal goodness of man.

  "Tony," Clete said, as gently as he could. "Have you thought how this looks to me? I know, you say she's not that kind of a girl, and that you're not in love with her, but it looks to me like she's playing you like a violin."

  "Forget I asked," Tony replied, with both anger and hurt in his eyes.

  "Tony, have you considered that it's at least a possibility-I mean, this isn't some girl you've known for years. You just met her-that as soon as you give her the money, she says 'Muchas gracias' and goes back to her boyfriend?"

  "I told you it's not like that. And she didn't ask me for a dime. I had to pull the story out of her."

  Yeah, sure you did. While she looked at you with big, tearful eyes and a few well-timed sobs.

  "And anyway, I wasn't going to ask you to give me the fuck-ing money, just help me get it in a hurry down here from my bank in Chicago. I got fifty-three grand in the bank."

  "Where'd you get fifty-three thousand dollars?" Clete asked in surprise.

  And is the girl you don't love and is absolutely not playing you for a sucker aware you're got fifty-odd thousand dollars?

  "Three of it was my college money, and my grandfather left me fifty grand when he died. I figured, since you know people here, you could help me get thirteen grand down here, maybe fifteen, just to be sure."

  As sure as Christ made little apples, he's being played for a sucker; but I can't convince him of that.

  So what do I tell him?

  He stuck with you. Loyalty is loyalty, and it works down as well as up. This guy is on your team. So what you do is try to help him. If you can minimize the damage, fine, but you help him.

  "Tony, I'll tell you what I will do. You come up with the facts.

  Your girlfriend's name, her father's name, the name of the bank... all the information you can get out of her. I'll check it out. If it checks out..."

  And I'll be goddamned surprised if it does!

  "I got it right here," Tony said. He dug into his white hospital uniform trousers and came out with a thick wad of paper.

  "You can't keep those..." Tony said.

  Why am I not surprised?

  "... because her father needs them back. He's running around trying to get the money from other people, family mostly. I got two grand from Ettinger, it was all he had, and he's come up with about four. So we still need seven."

  Ettinger can't afford to lose two thousand dollars. But he couldn't turn Tony down. And you almost did.

  Clete quickly went through the documents, more than a little surprised to see that the mortgage, made by the Anglo-Argentine Bank, looked legitimate. He wrote down the pertinent facts, re-membering as he did so that Uncle Humberto was a banker and that he could ask the appropriate questions.

  "Mi Teniente," Enrico said, frowned, and tapped his wrist-watch.

  "Yeah, OK. He's going." He handed the documents back to Pelosi. "No promises, Tony. I'll check it out."

  "Thank you," Tony said. "I... Thanks, Clete. I really hated to bother you with this, you being in the deep shit and all."

  "It's OK, Tony. If I can help, I'll be glad to."

  "Now I feel like a shit," Tony said.

  "Why?"

  "I lied to you. And Dave."

  "About what?"

  "I knew what you'd think," Tony said.

  "If what, Tony?"

  Jesus!

  "If I told you I'm in love with her. I am, Clete."

  Either it's pure love at first sight, or you're thinking with your dick, one or the other.

  Who the hell are you to ridicule him for falling in love at first sight?

  "Tony, just make sure that what you feel for this girl is the real thing," Clete said. "We're down here alone..."

  "Yeah. I knew that's what you'd think. But I'm glad I told you anyway."

  "You have to get out of here," Clete said.

  "Yeah."

  "I'll be in touch, through Enrico or one of his friends," Clete said, and put out his hand.

  "Thanks, Clete."

  "You and Ettinger watch your ass, Tony. These bastards are liable to come after you. They probably will."

  "We'll be all right, Lieutenant."

  I wonder.

  [TWO]

  The Office of the Military Attach‚

  The Embassy of the German Reich

  Avenue Cordoba

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  0925 21 December 1942

  "You wished to see me, Herr Oberst?" Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein asked as he entered Oberst Karl-Heinz Gr£ner's office.

  "The Ambassador wants to see you, Peter," Grner said. "His secretary called here at nine oh two." Grner waited until the young Luftwaffe officer had squirmed uncomfortably for a while, then went on. "I told her you were in the rest room."

  "Thank you, Herr Oberst. I regret that I was delayed."

  Smiling, Grner held up his hand and stopped him.

  "A late, romantic evening, I gather, von Wachtstein?"

  "Romance is difficult, Herr Oberst, when the object of your intentions is connected like a Siamese twin to her older sister."

  Grner chuckled. "You are an enterprising young man. You'll find a solution."

  "Is Ambassador von Lutzenberger waiting for me, Herr Ob-erst?"

  "He wants to see you at 9:40. Not 9:35, not 9:45. 9:40. The Ambassador is a very precise man, von Wachtstein."

  Peter looked at his wristwatch.

  "We have a few minutes," Grner said, then handed Peter a folded newspaper. Peter saw that it was the Buenos Aires Freie Presse. "Have you seen this, Peter?"

  He pointed to a story with the headline "Murder and Robbery in Belgrano."

  "Not this story, Herr Oberst. But I saw a similar one in the Herald. The hotel placed one before my door; I read it at break-fast."

  " 'The best laid plans of mice and men,' " Grner said. "I think it was a Scotsman who said that."

  "I saw young Frade earlier in the evening," Peter said. "He came into the hotel."

  "So I understand," Grner said. "It was reported to me that you had angry words."

  "He was angry with the lady, Herr Oberst." "And she with him, I understand," Grner said. "I don't sup-pose we'll ever know what went wrong, except that I violated the adage that one should never underestimate one's enemy. Lieutenant Frade may not be the babe in the woods I took him to be."

  "May I ask what happens now?"

  "Well, first you see von Lutzenberger. I suspect there may have been a letter for you in the diplomatic pouch. There was a Condor flight this morning."

  "Oh, really?"

  "He will deliver the standard speech, that you are not free to use the diplomatic messenger service for personal business. That should take about three minutes. He probably has you on his schedule, 'von Wachtstein, nine-forty to nine forty-four.'"

  Peter smiled, thinking it was expected of him.

  "And when he turns you loose, I thought we would take a look at the advertisements in the Freie Presse and see about finding a suitable apartment for you. Or would that interfere with
your ro-mantic life?"