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

"Gracias, Se?ora," Enrico said.

"And for the next hour," Claudia said, "the Old Man can sulk in the house while we have a coffee. Or perhaps something stronger, Cletus?"

"Nothing, thank you," he said.

[EIGHT]

Estancia Santa Catharina

Buenos Aires Province

2145 22 December 1942

Clete was startled when he became aware of the human form standing next to him. A female human form, to judge by the perfume.

He was lying on a chaise longue, examining the heavens with a pair of Zeiss 7 X 50 binoculars that he found in his bedroom. The room—actually an apartment—obviously served as the last repository of the personal property of the late Se?or Carzino-Cormano; there were riding boots and a photo album and other things he suspected Claudia was unable to part with, even though her husband was long dead and she was in everything but law now married to his father.

After dinner, a magnificent entire lomo, roasted whole with red sweet peppers, mushrooms, and two magnificent bottles of vino tinto, Clete went to his room and to its chaise longue for a look at the stars.

He sat up. Enrico, the Remington on his lap, was about to allow himself to doze off again, satisfied that the visitor, whom Clete now recognized, posed no threat to Clete.

“I am not disturbing you?” Alicia Carzino-Cormano asked.

"Of course not."

"Is he ... is that, necessary?" Alicia asked, nodding at Enrico and his shotgun.

"He thinks so."

"And do you?"

"I don't know," Clete said. "I am willing to defer to his professional judgment."

"May I ask you a question?"

"As long as it does not involve my love life. I am an officer and a gentleman, and officers and gentlemen do not kiss and tell."

"I heard my mother and your father talking."

"Eavesdropping on Mama and the Old Man? I am shocked, Alicia."

She smiled at him.

"El Coronel said there is no doubt that the Germans were behind what happened at the Guest House."

"I'm sure they were," Clete said.

"Why did they kill Se?ora Pellano?"

"Straight answer, Alicia? Because they are no-good sonsofbitches who are perfectly willing to kill innocent people to get what they want."

"There was a story in La Nation," Alicia said, "which said that the English and the Norteamericanos ... which accuses the Germans of killing thousands of innocent people. You believe that too?"

"Yes, I do," Clete said, now seriously. "I'm afraid it's even worse than that. That they have killed more than thousands. I think they've probably killed millions."

"It is impossible to believe!" she said, and made a strange noise. After a moment he recognized it was a stifled sob. She turned and walked—almost ran—away from him. The sudden motion woke Enrico from his doze. He jumped to his feet with the Remington at the ready.

Suddenly understanding why she was doing that, Clete jumped off the chaise longue and ran after her and caught her arm.

"Listen to me, honey," Clete said. "I don't believe for a minute that Peter von Wachtstein had anything at all to do with killing Se?ora Pellano, or with what they tried to do to me. And I know him well enough to be certain that if he was aware of what was going on in Germany, he would do anything he could to stop it."

She looked up at him. He could smell her breath.

"Is that true?" she asked, just barely audibly.

"Yeah, honey, it's true. Ol' Hans-Peter is an officer and a gentleman and a fighter pilot. We officers and gentlemen and fighter pilots don't do things like that."

Alicia Carzino-Cormano then threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly, put her face on his chest, and said, "Oh, Cletus, thank you very much!"

Then she kissed him square on the lips and ran from the room.

[NINE]

La Capilla de Nuestra Se?ora de los Milagros

Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo

Near Pila, Buenos Aires Province

1105 23 December 1942

The Chapel of Our Lady of the Miracles seems to be a wholly owned subsidiary of Saints Peter and Paul Ranch,thought First Lieutenant Cletus H. Frade, USMCR, onetime acolyte of Trinity Protestant Episcopal Church, Midland, Texas.

Until he walked into this one, he assumed that a "chapel" was sort of an altar off to the side of the main part of the church. The chapel at Trinity, for example, was in fact a small church within a church used mostly by a small group of the unusually devout for the celebration of sevena.m. Sunday Morning Prayer before they hit the links of the Midland Country Club.

Or once in a while,he thought, remembering two specific incidents, for the quiet, family-members-only marriage of a bride who wanted a church wedding but was reluctant to march down the main aisle to the strains of "Here Comes the Bride" in a white dress which could not entirely conceal the fact that she was about to add to the world's population.

La Capilla de Nuestra Se?ora de los Milagros was a large religious edifice, seating normally maybe three hundred people (it was almost as large as Trinity Episcopal, and a hell of a lot more ornate). Today it held more than that. It came fully equipped with an organ, a choir loft, a cemetery, and a rectory. And two priests in absolutely stunning vestments heavy with golden thread, one a doddering old man who seemed to have trouble staying awake, and the other who looked as if he was ordained last week.

And there were three social classes of worshipers: First, there were two kinds of pews in the church itself. All but the first three rows were simple wooden benches. The first three rows were softly upholstered in red velvet.

These were reserved for important worshipers, which today meant the family of the late Se?ora Marianna Maria Dolores Rodriguez de Pellano, whose beautifully carved solid cedar casket now rested just before the communion rail. And today, at the invitation of Suboficial Mayor Enrico Rodriguez, Cavalry, Argentine Army, Retired, included First Lieutenant Cletus H. Frade, USMCR.

The Old Man, Se?ora Carzino-Cormano, the Carzino-Cormano girls, Uncle Humberto and Aunt Beatrice, and some people Clete did not recognize were seated in the VIP section of La Capilla de Nuestra Se?ora de los Milagros, a wing off the main body of the church, where there were individual prie-dieux and nicely upholstered chairs with arms.

The healthy-looking young priest delivered an angry homily, promising eternal damnation for those who lived by the sword. Clete suspected that the homily was directed mostly at him and Enrico, who had his Remington with him, not at all well-concealed in a poncho.

Just for the record, Padre, I didn't come down here because I wanted to. I didn't go in the goddamned Marine Corps because I get my rocks off shooting people. I would even have obeyed Christ's "turn the other cheek" rule if those two bastards hadn't come at me with knives.

But what about the one I shot in the forehead while he was actually screaming, "Please, Se?or, for the love of God, help me!”?

Martin was right: Thatwas murder, Cletus Frade. You didn't have to kill that sonofabitch. You shouldn't have killed him.

Familiar words from the 1928 Book of Common Prayer came into his mind: “ I have done those things that I ought not to have done, and I have not done those things I ought to have done, and there is no help in me.”

Come to think of it, Cletus, the only thing you have done lately that you ought to have done is to keep your hands off the Virgin Princess. You get a small gold star for that.

His meditation on his own guilt and innocence was interrupted when Enrico nudged him. And then he saw that Enrico had not nudged him, and was in fact completely unaware of him. Enrico was weeping.

More than a little awkwardly, Clete put his arm around him and held him comfortingly.

[TEN]

The Ranch House