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

"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, remembering 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 Oberst?"

"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 breakfast."

" '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 suppose 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 romantic life?"

"No, Herr Oberst. Thank you very much," Peter said.

Gr?ner stood up.

"I noticed in the Freie Presse three or four apartments for rent that might be suitable for you. When von Lutzenberger is through with you, I suggest we have my driver take us past all of them. We will then wind up at my quarters, where my wife has her camera prepared to take pictures, to send to Willi. She will even feed us lunch. And afterward, if any of the apartments has taken your fancy, we can have a closer look on our way back here."

"You're very kind, Herr Oberst."

“Nonsense. Your father would do no less for Willi. But now I suggest you go to the Ambassador's office so that you will be there when the second hand on his watch indicates that it's precisely nine-forty."

"Thank you, Herr Oberst."

"Oh, one final thing."

"Yes, Herr Oberst?"

"When young Frade surfaces—Internal Security has him in the military hospital, but he should be out and about in several days— you should telephone to him and express your delight that he came through this terrible event unscathed."

"I don't think I understand, Herr Oberst."

"You know him socially. You are a German officer and a gentleman. This is a neutral country. It would be the correct thing to do. And when Oberstleutnant Martin gets the transcript of the telephone call, it will drive him mad trying to figure out the connection between you two."

"I'll call him, Herr Oberst."

Gr?ner, now delighted with his idea, had an even better one.

"Better yet, invite Lieutenant Frade to lunch at the downtown officers' club. We'll stop in there during the apartment search and obtain a membership for you."

[THREE]

"You wished to see me, Mr. Ambassador?"

"Ah, yes, von Wachtstein," von Lutzenberger said. "I have a letter for you. There was a Condor flight this morning."

The Ambassador rose from his desk and walked to a wall safe concealed behind the official photograph of Adolf Hitler. He worked the combination, pulled the safe open, took an envelope from it, carefully closed it, and then spun the combination dial.

He handed Peter the envelope; it was sealed with green wax, in which was the impression of a signet ring. The letter was from his father. Peter recognized this, however, by the paper of the envelope and not the seal. A box of this stationery was kept in the library at Schloss Wachtstein; it was purchased in London by Peter's grandfather; and it was used up at the rate of one sheet and one envelope per year to announce births, deaths, marriages, and other significant family events to his grandfather's sister (and her descendants). She had married an Englishman and lived in Scotland.