Griffin W.E.B. - Honor Bound 01 - Honor Bound

I wonder how he will react when I show up down there.

"Excuse me, Se?or. I'm sure you don't remember me, but I happen to be what they call the fruit of your loins."

"That was taken last summer," Graham said after a moment.

"Where?" Clete asked. "In Berlin?"

"No." Graham chuckled. "That's Buenos Aires. On Independence Day. Their Independence Day—July ninth. They make just about as much of a fuss over theirs as we do over ours."

"I wasn't aware he was in the Army," Clete said.

"He's retired. They—people of a certain class and influence— wear uniforms on suitable occasions. This was taken before the traditional Independence Day Mass at the Metropolitan Cathedral. Jos? de San Martin, El Ubertador, is buried there. Do you recognize the insignia? Your father's a colonel of cavalry. And like Generalleutnant Hasso von Manteuffel of the Wehrmacht and our own Major General George S. Patton, he's a graduate of the French Cavalry School at Saint-Cyr. And the German Kriegs-schule."

Clete looked at Colonel Graham and saw amusement in his eyes.

"And whose side is he on in this war?" Clete asked.

"Argentina, as you probably know, is trying to sit this war out as a neutral. Generally speaking, their Navy, which was trained by the English, is pro-Allies. The Army, which is trained by the Germans, is generally pro-Axis. We don't know exactly where your father stands. If, 'in addition to your other duties,' you could tilt him toward our side, that would be nice."

"Is that the real reason you want me to go down there? To try to work on my father?"

"No. As I said, if you could tilt your father toward us, that would be a bonus. But you're being sent down there to take out the 'neutral' submarine replenishment vessel. What we're hoping—your father is a very powerful man down there—is that the BIS ..."

"The what?"

"The Bureau of Internal Security, which is sort of their FBI, except that it's under the Ministry of Defense. They're very good, I understand, trained by the Germans. What we're hoping is that once the BIS find out your father is el Coronel Frade, they may elect to be a little less enthusiastic, a little less efficient in investigating you, than they would ordinarily be."

"How are they going to know he's my father? Are you going to tell them?"

"They'll find out. I told you, they're very good."

"When does all this start to happen? I was promised a leave. I want to go to Texas...."

"I understand," he said. "We know about your uncle, too. That must have been tough...."

"Sir, do I get a leave or don't I?"

"Yes, of course. There will be time for you to visit both Midland and New Orleans."

"Thank you," Clete said.

Graham looked into Clete's eyes for a moment, then nodded. He looked at his watch.

"We have a compartment on the Chicago Limited," he said.

“We have an hour and a half to make it. I think you'd better start packing."

"I just take off? What about the War Bond Tour? Won't they miss me?"

"They will be told that you're on emergency leave because of an illness in your family," Graham said. "Do you suppose I could have another drink, while you pack?"

[THREE]

Office of the Director

Office of Strategic Services

National Institutes of Health Building

Washington. D.C.

15 October 1942

"You wanted to see me, Colonel?" Colonel A. F. Graham asked as he stood in the door. He was in civilian clothing.

"Come on in, Alex," Colonel William J. Donovan, a stocky, well-tailored man in his fifties, replied. As Graham walked into the office, Donovan added, "Actually, I wanted to see you three days ago, and then the day before yesterday, and yest—"

"I was on the West Coast," Graham said. "I sent you a memo."

"Carefully timed to arrive after you left," Donovan said. He was smiling, but there was a tone of rebuke in his voice.

"Amazing town, this Washington," Graham said. "It only takes a couple of months for an honest man to become as devious as any lifelong bureaucrat."

"Tell me something, Alex," Donovan asked; he was clearly enjoying the exchange. "How did you manage to run the country's second-largest railroad without knowing how to delegate responsibility?"

"The third or fourth largest, actually. Depending on how you count—by trackage or by income. The Pennsylvania and the New York Central make more money; and the Union Pacific, the Sante Fe, and the Chicago and Northwestern all have more trackage."

Donovan smiled tolerantly at him. Unlike most of the upper echelon of the OSS, Colonel A. (for Alejandro) F. (for Fredrico) Graham was not awed by Colonel William R. Donovan, Director of the Office of Strategic Services—and World I Hero, spectacularly successful Wall Street lawyer, and intimate, longtime friend of his Harvard classmate, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, President of the United States.

Probably because Graham was himself a World War I hero, Donovan often reflected. And had an even greater income from running his railroad than he himself had. And had a loathing for politicians, even those who made it to the White House.

Donovan was pleased when he was able to recruit Graham for the OSS and to steal him from the President (Roosevelt was talking about making Graham "Transportation Czar"; the theft annoyed the President, but he got over it). There were a number of reasons why he was truly valuable; high among these was his reputation for not backing down from a position he believed to be the right one.

"But to answer your question, Colonel," Graham went on. "By knowing what things should be delegated, and what things the boss should do himself."

"We even have an Assistant Director for Recruitment around here. Did you know that?"

"Actually, he's a Deputy Assistant Director," Graham said. "He works for me. Did you ever really read the manning table?"

"No," Donovan said, and laughed. "I have an Assistant Director named Graham who does that sort of thing for me. Whenever he comes to work."

"I thought it was important, Bill," Graham said. "That's why I went myself."

"Your memo said your trip was in connection with the Argentina problem," Donovan said, his tone making it a question.

Graham nodded.

"Then let me clear the air. There will be no violation of Argentine neutrality by United States Naval or Army Air Corps forces. I took that all the way to the top. The State Department won."

"The top" meant the President of the United States.

"I thought that's what would happen," Graham said. "That's why I went recruiting in California. We need more assets down there."

Donovan nodded his agreement and then asked, "Any luck?"

"A very interesting young Marine. Young fellow named Frade."

"The Marine Corps ... no, Holcomb himself... has been complaining that we're taking too many of his officers." Thomas Holcomb was then Major General Commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps.

"You'll have to deal with Holcomb. This one we need."

"Why?"

"This one—he flew at Midway, and they just gave him a second DFC—not only comes with a large set of balls, he speaks Spanish fluently. And his father is very interesting."

"Who's his father?"

"El Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade."

"And who is el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade?"

"He is the ?minence grise of the G.O.U."

"It's not nice, Alex, to force your boss to confess his ignorance."

"It stands for Grupo de Oficiales Unidos," Graham explained. "They are planning a coup against the President of Argentina. With a little bit of luck they'll succeed."

"This fellow's father? The Argentine colonel?"

Graham nodded.

"The last briefing I had," Donovan said, "claimed that the Argentinean military, to a man, supported the Axis. Or at least the Germans."

"Then you weren't listening closely. The 'Argentines are Pro-Axis' business is simply not so. Just because they wear German helmets doesn't mean they're all Nazis. There's a good deal of pro-British sentiment among much of the officer corps, and the bureaucracy."