"That it's quite likely that Habanzo has a relationship with the Germans."
"Quite possible," el Almirante said, pausing for a moment to stare out over the river. Then he went on, "Let me say, Bernardo, ex post facto, that you handled the situation at el Coronel Frade's guest house as I would have handled it myself. That required both imagination and a willingness to assume responsibility."
"Thank you, mi Almirante. I did what I thought you would want me to do in those circumstances."
De Montoya smiled and nodded: "So then we must consider the motives of the Germans, mustn't we? Is this replenishment vessel of theirs so important to their submarine operations that they would be willing to alienate a man who may well become President of Argentina to preserve it?"
"If you would permit me to express my thoughts-not conclu-sions-about that, and then tell me where I may have gone wrong?"
"Please do."
"Possibility One is that their replenishment vessel is in fact so important that they would be willing to pay any price to ensure that it remains operational-even if that means earning el Coronel Frade's hatred by killing his son... and/or the embarrassment of being caught by us."
El Almirante de Montoya grunted, accepting that theory.
"Possibility Two," Martin went on, "is that they wished to demonstrate both to the Americans, and in particular to el Coronel Frade-and the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos-that they are so pow-erful that they can do whatever they wish with impunity. They caused the disappearance of the first OSS team that was sent here to deal with the replenishment vessel. By eliminating the head of the second OSS team-"
"Let me interrupt for a moment," de Montoya said. "What about young Frade? Is he a professional intelligence officer, or was he sent down here because he is his father's son?"
"I at first thought the latter," Martin replied. "Now I am hav-ing second thoughts. It seems certain that the OSS sent him here to deal with the Reine de la Mer."
"You think they can sink her?"
"No, Sir. I don't think that will happen. The man I had on the pilot's boat when the Reine de la Mer entered our waters re-ported-I sent you his report, mi Almirante-that she is heavily armed for a merchant vessel, with what we believe are two dual forty-millimeter Bofors cannon, plus heavy machine guns, and what is very likely a radar antenna."
"A what?"
"A device that uses radio waves to detect other vessels, or boats, within a ten-to-twenty-mile range."
"I've heard that both the Germans and the English have such devices, but I was not aware they were commonly available."
"The replenishment vessel is tremendously important to the Germans. It would follow she would have the best available equipment."
"So young Frade's mission is doomed to failure?"
"That is my belief, mi Almirante. If we are to believe every-thing Delgano said about the current activities at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, Frade intends to bomb the Reine de la Mer with incendiary devices, apparently designed to explode her fuel tanks, or at least set them on fire. And all he has to do this with is his father's airplane, which is, as you know..."
"I know," de Montoya said impatiently. "I've flown in it. It is not a warplane."
"As I was saying a moment ago, mi Almirante, my second theory vis-a-vis the motives of the Germans is that killing young Frade would send the message that they have the better intelli-gence operation; that they are so powerful that they don't care if they enrage a possible President of Argentina; and, as a secondary benefit, they protect the Reine de la Mer.''
"In either case, young Frade dies?"
"I'm afraid so, mi Almirante."
"Pity. It will be difficult for his father personally, and difficult for us, my friend, if we have a President who hates the Germans."
"I don't see how it can be avoided. The Americans are appar-ently determined to make the attempt against the odds."
"And what, in your opinion, should our course of action be?"
"What I have been thinking-what I would like to present for your concurrence, mi Almirante- is that we do nothing, simply let happen what happens."
"Based on what reasoning?"
"We are a neutral power. We don't know that the Reine de la Mer is in fact a replenishment vessel in our waters, thus violating our neutrality; and we don't know that young Frade is in fact an OSS agent sent here to sink her, thus violating our neutrality. Consequently, however the attempt to sink the Reine de la Mer turns out, we can express surprise, regret, anger, whatever would be appropriate. But to repeat, I think young Frade will fail."
"And die in the attempt?"
"Regrettably, mi Almirante."
"If your suspicions that that fool Habanzo has been dealing with the Germans are justified, they will know within a half hour of his leaving this building-if they don't already know-every-thing that's going on at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo."
"Delgano came directly here to report to Habanzo," Martin said. "And I haven't let either of them out of my sight since Habanzo brought Delgano to me. I don't think Delgano knows Habanzo has a German connection. And in any event, I don't think that even Habanzo would be fool enough to try to telephone the Germans from this building. So I am assuming that the Ger-mans know nothing about the activities at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo."
El Almirante de Montoya grunted again, accepting that. "How will you deal with those two?" he asked after a moment. "With your concurrence, mi Almirante, I'll have Habanzo send Delgano back to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, with orders to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open until he hears from Ha-banzo. And then I'll send Habanzo to Uruguay with several men-including a young Capitan, Oswaldo Storrer, in whom I have complete confidence. His orders will be to detect and inter-rupt the American supply line from Brazil through Uruguay to Argentina. Storrer's orders will be to not let Habanzo out of his sight or near a telephone." "And then?"
"When this whole business is over, mi Almirante, I suggest that you approach el Coronel Frade and tell him that you have just learned from me that an officer in the BIS-whom you have transferred from BIS to an obscure post-had the effrontery to recruit el Capitan Delgano."
De Montoya thought about that for a long moment. "He knows, of course, that you cleaned up the mess at his Guest House, so he will trust you. But of course, Martin, that means that you have chosen sides-and he will know it."
"I see no alternative, mi Almirante. El Coronel Frade has reached the stage where anyone who does not support him is against him."
El Almirante de Montoya grunted again, turned to his window, and assumed his Deep-In-Thought position, and remained in it for over a minute. Finally he turned.
"When the opportunity presents itself, I will have a word with el Coronel Frade. And, in the meantime, you will keep me in-formed?"
"Of course, mi Almirante."
"For the present, do what you think should be done about those two," el Almirante said, gesturing toward the closed door.
"S¡, mi Almirante," Martin replied. "Con permiso, mi Almirante?"
With an impatient gesture of his hand, el Almirante de Montoya dismissed him.
[TWO]
1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz
Buenos Aires
1925 29 December 1942
Like Tony Pelosi, Clete Frade also decided to write farewell let-ters-to his grandfather and his aunt Martha, and to Se¤orita Dorotea Mallin.
He spent the better part of an hour at the desk in Granduncle Guillermo's playroom working on them, with absolutely no suc-cess. With regard to his grandfather and aunt Martha, he finally concluded that letters would be counterproductive. They would arrive several weeks after the notification of his death, and would only tear away the scab from that emotional wound.
He was glad that he told Martha at Uncle Jim's grave that he loved her. And he was sorry he had not put the same thought in words to the Old Man.
Who probably would have responded by announcing something like "people who can't handle alcohol should l
eave it alone," or "only fools and drunks wear their emotions on their sleeve."
So far as the No-Longer-Virgin Princess was concerned, per-haps there would be time tonight at the enfamille dinner to have a private word with her-a private one-way word; I certainly can't let her know that I think I'm about to get my ass blown away-during which he could try again to point out that she was much too young to know what love was all about, and that she had an exciting period of her life before her, during which she would meet a number of young men.
The problem of farewell letters resolved, it occurred to him that he hadn't had anything to eat lately. He could, of course, push the call button and have them rustle up something in the kitchen.
What I really want-God knows what the Old Man will serve tonight, but it certainly won't be simple-is a hot dog with onions and a beer. And there's a place a couple of blocks down Libertador where I can get one.
He was in his underwear, because of the heat. He went to the wardrobe, took out a red polo shirt, a pair of khaki pants, a cotton blazer, and Sullivan's boots. When dressed, he examined himself in the mirror and was satisfied that he was wearing the right thing-that he actually looked rather spiffy-for an en famille dinner.
Then he went down and backed the Buick out of the basement, drove half a dozen blocks down Avenida Libertador until he found the small sidewalk restaurant he was looking for, and went in.
He had a private chat with the man tending the carbon parrilla (a wood-fired barbecue grill), finally convincing him that he really wanted the hot dogs grilled and not boiled, and served with chopped raw onions on French bread. Then he took a table, or-dered cervezas, and watched the people walk by.
Three grilled hot dogs with raw onion and a pair of liter bottles of beer later, he glanced at his watch. It was nine o'clock. He would just have time to drive to the house on Avenida Coronel Diaz and arrive at the socially accepted time-fifteen minutes late.
[THREE]
1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz
Buenos Aires
2115 29 December 1942
A butler in a tailcoat opened the door to his knock.
"Buenas noches, Se¤or Frade," he said, straight-faced. "El Coronel and his guests are in the first-floor reception room."
The first floor, the way the Argentines count, is really the sec-ond floor, Clete was pleased to remember.
He went up the curving, wide staircase two steps at a time, in happy anticipation of seeing the No-Longer-Virgin Princess, only halfway up remembering that if the opportunity presented itself to kiss her, he would reek of beer and raw onions.
He entered the reception room. The first person he saw was Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein, resplendent in a white Luftwaffe summer uniform, with his Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross dangling over his chest. He was chatting with Se¤orita Al-icia Carzino-Cormano, who was in a floor-length white dress cut so that not only a strand of pearls but a wide expanse of bosom- both magnificent-were on prominent display.
Also present in the room were Se¤orita Carzino-Cormano's mother and sister, also wearing shades of white; Uncle Humberto and Aunt Beatrice, she in a floor-length black gown, he in a white dinner jacket; half a dozen other people, including an Argentine admiral and the fat colonel of the Husares de Pueyrredon in mess dress; and their ladies; Se¤or A. F. Graham, in a white dinner jacket; and of course the Mallin family, Mama, Papa, the No-Longer-Virgin Princess, and even Little Enrico, all done up in a dinner jacket.
Plus, of course, the host, el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, in a white dinner jacket.
The No-Longer-Virgin Princess, when she saw him in the red polo shirt and blue blazer, smiled warmly and then giggled. Though they didn't giggle, Se¤or Graham's and Major Freiherr von Wachtstein's faces reflected a certain amusement at Clete's discomfort, and then at the sight of his father stalking across the room to greet him.
"At least you managed to arrive," Clete's father said as he took his arm and led him out of the room, "at the dinner I gave at your request. I suppose that's something."
"What I had in mind was just the Mallins," Clete said. "Sorry."
"You should be glad that didn't happen."
"Excuse me?"
"Mallin came early," his father said as he led him down a wide corridor and then through a double door. "I have some clothing in here that should fit you."
"I don't think so," Clete said. His father was forty pounds heavier than he was. "Mallin came early and... ?"
"I bought much of this when I was your age," his father said, throwing open a closet that looked like a rack in a formal clothing store. "There's a dinner jacket in here from Close and Marsh in London that should do."
He found what he was looking for and thrust it at Clete.
"I don't know about a shirt," he said. "But there's a drawer of them over there, and you'll find studs and so on on my dresser. And now, the entertainment of the evening finished, I will return to your guests."
Clete put his hand on his father's arm and stopped him.
"Answer the question. Mallin was here, and... ?"
"He wished to talk to me privately, man-to-man, as one father to another," Frade said. "About your relationship with his daugh-ter. While he assured me that he felt you were a fine young man of sterling character, who would never take advantage of an in-nocent young girl, as men of the world, we both knew that when two young people fancy themselves in love... et cetera, et cetera... and that he hoped I would be good enough to have a word with you. I told him that you are a man, and that I have no control over your romantic life." "That's it?"
"I also told him that I rather understood your interest in his innocent young daughter. I suggested that you perhaps acquired your interest in young girls in the bar at the Plaza Hotel, watching middle-aged men fawning over Mi¤as young enough to be their daughters."
"You didn't!"
Frade nodded. "And I also told him that he should be glad that you are both my son and an officer and a gentleman, who there-fore can be expected to do the right thing by his innocent daugh-ter, rather than one of the middle-aged men in the Plaza bar who behave despicably toward their young women."
"He took this?"
"He seemed rather discomfited," Frade said, obviously pleased with himself. Then his tone changed. "Cletus, I looked at Dorotea tonight for the first time as a young woman, not as a girl."
"I'm in love with her, Dad."
"To look at your faces when you greeted one another, I would never have guessed," Frade said. "But the way you said that makes the other things I intended to say to you unnecessary." He paused. "You will be taking Dorotea into dinner-sitting with her. I had the butler rearrange the seating arrangements." Frade looked at his watch.
"Dress quickly; your odd Norteamericano notion of appropri-ate dinner dress is delaying the serving of dinner."
"Sorry about that."
"You should be," Clete's father said, and walked out of the room.
Clete was at the bathroom mirror tying his bow tie, when he heard the door to his father's apartment creak open. He'd had his choice among dress shirts-too large or too small. He opted for a loose collar. After he adjusted the tie as best he could, he returned to the bedroom, expecting to see his father, or maybe the butler, sent to help him dress.
He found instead Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein, leaning on the closed door, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. Peter held out the glasses to him.
"Hold these," he ordered, "while I open the bottle."
"I'm grateful, mi Comandante, especially since this act of Christian charity obviously tore you away from the magnificent Alicia... and her magnificent..." He made a curving motion above his chest to indicate what he meant.
Peter popped the cork.
"If you were a real officer and gentleman, which fortunately you are not," Peter said as he poured the champagne, "I would be forced to challenge you to a duel for insulting the lady with whom I intend to share my life."
"The duel, no. The lady, possibly. She has, certainly, a splen-did body. But she also has qualities I've never encountered be-fore."
"I'll be damned," Clete said.
Peter raised his glass.
"Fighter pilots," he said.
"Fighter pilots," Clete replied, tapping Peter's glass with his. "And their ladies."
"Since I am an officer and a gentleman, I will refrain from commenting that yours has a rather attractive mammary devel-opment herself, even if she is so recently out of the cradle."
"Go fuck yourself, Peter."
W E B Griffin - Honor 1 - Honor Bound Page 66