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

But when the petulance was replaced by a suspicious anxiety to be as helpful as possible, Clete and Graham decided that whether Delgano could be completely trusted or not, a little deception seemed called for when it came time to make the in-flight tests of Tony's and Chief Daniels's flares.

The tests were conducted in two phases: First they used inert charges (the magnesium of the flares replaced with sand)—to test the opening of the parachute and the timing of Tony's homemade detonating devices. And finally they tried fully functioning flares.

Dropping them required removing the door of the Beechcraft. Unfortunately, this could not be done in flight. And it couldn't be done at the estancia's airstrip, either: Clete and Graham knew that Delgano's curiosity—as would their own, in similar circumstances—would shift into high gear if he saw them taking the door off, loading mysterious packages into the plane, and then taking off.

The solution they came up with was to use a landing strip—a straight stretch of dirt road with a wind sock—in a remote corner of Se?ora Carzino-Cormano's Estancia Santa Catharina. They sent Tony there in the Buick with the flares. Then they flew the Beech there with Chief Daniels as a passenger. They took off the door, loaded the flares, went up and dropped them, landed on the dirt strip to drop Tony off and put the door back on, and then flew back to the field at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo

When they were in the air over Estancia Santa Catharina, Capitan Delgano twice "happened" to be making a routine flight in one of the estancia's Piper Cubs. But the Beechcraft was so much faster than a Cub, losing him was no problem.

Neither Graham nor Clete was happy with el Coronel's confidence in el Capitan Delgano, but there was nothing they could do about it.

"And if you forgot dinner with the Mallins," el Coronel said, sounding annoyed, "it would follow that you forgot to ask Se?or Graham for the pleasure of his company. I think that good manners requires that you—we—do so."

Why is it important to my father that Graham come to dinner? Because he wants a report of our activities out here, and he wants to be able to look at Graham's face when he delivers the report.

"Se?or Graham is here with me. We're having lunch. Hold on a minute and I'll ask him if he is free to accept your kind invitation."

"Tell him that I would consider it a great favor."

Clete put his hand over the telephone receiver, then changed his mind.

"It is my father, mi Coronel," he said in Spanish, loudly enough for his father to hear. "My father asks me to tell you that he would consider it a great favor if you would take dinner with us tonight in Buenos Aires."

Also in Spanish, Graham replied, loud enough to be heard over the telephone: "Please tell your father that I would be delighted to accept his kind invitation."

"Papa," Clete said, "Se?or Graham says he would be honored to accept your kind invitation."

"I heard, and I don't think you are amusing," el Coronel Frade said. Then he added, "Early. Nine-thirty," and hung up.

"Mi Coronel," Clete said. "Mi Papa, el Coronel..."

"I heard, and I don't think you're amusing either. What's this dinner all about?"

"He's having the Mallins to dinner, to thank them for putting me up when I first got here."

"Mallin, as in Sociedad Mercantil de Importation de Productos Petroliferos?"

Clete nodded.

"I should have gone to see Mallin, and I didn't," Graham said. "There might be questions about that. Do you think your father thought of that?"

"I think Papa wants to know what's been going on out here."

"That, too, certainly. Well, I suggest we finish our lunch, then go see Chief Schultz, tell him we're going into town, and then go."

"Dinner isn't until nine-thirty."

"I will pay a call on Se?or Mallin before I meet him socially tonight," Graham said.

"Schultz is at the transmitter site. We'll have to drive a Model T out there—the Buick would get stuck—and then come back here for the Buick."

"OK” Graham said. "I just want to make sure that Schultz is on schedule."

Chief Radioman Oscar J. Schultz walked up to the Model T sedan at the transmitter site. He was wearing the familiar strained smile of a Chief who knows what he's doing when he sees the brass, who cannot find their asses with both hands, coming to inspect his work.

As they bounced over the pampas in the Model T, it was difficult to pick him out from among the twenty-odd gauchos working in the area. He was dressed as they were, in a flowing shirt, billowing black trousers drawn together at the tops of his boots, a wide leather belt around his waist (complete to a menacing-looking knife with a foot-long blade), and a large, floppy beret on his head.

"You really ought to learn how to ride, Chief," Graham said.

"You're already in uniform."

“The Colonel, Sir, is dressed as if he and Mr. Frade are going somewhere," Schultz replied, not amused.

He and Chief Daniels had arrived at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo in their dress-white uniforms. The gauchos' clothing was the only solution to the clothing problem. Chief Schultz didn't mind much—Clete observed him examining himself in a mirror with approval. But Chief Daniels was uncomfortable in the gaucho costume; he was in fact heard mentioning to Chief Schultz that they both looked like Mexican pimps.

On the other hand, while there were only a few actions that Chief Radioman Oscar J. Schultz, USN, was unwilling to undertake in the service of his country, high on that short list was approaching closer to large animals—such as horses or cattle— than was absolutely necessary. That he might actually climb on a horse and use it as a means of transportation was absolutely out of the question.

Enrico solved that problem by obtaining for him the keys to one of the estancia's dozen or so ancient, but perfectly maintained Model T pickups from the estancia manager. They were nearly as good off-the-road, or through-the-mud, as a jeep.

"We're going into Buenos Aires for dinner, Chief," Graham said to Schultz. "We'll be back in the morning. You have things under control here? You need anything from the city?"

"I'm going to hang the antennae in the morning," Schultz answered. "We've got everything we need. Maybe, with a little luck, we can get on the air tomorrow afternoon. What's going on in Buenos Aires?"

"I think Mr. Frade's father wants to know what we're doing out here," Graham said.

"With you two gone, that'll mean only Ettinger and me are left who speak Spanish," Chief Schultz said.

"That'll pose a problem?"

"It will if Enrico goes with you."

"He and Mr. Frade are like Siamese twins, but if you think it's important, Chief..."

"He's the only guy around here who knows how to make these people jump, Colonel."

Ten minutes later, a visibly reluctant Suboficial Mayor Rodriguez—having been convinced that he could contribute to killing Germans by remaining at the estancia to help Chiefs Daniels and Schultz and Staff Sergeant Ettinger—handed his Remington Model 11 to Colonel A. F. Graham.

"With respect, mi Coronel, be very alert."

"You have my word of honor, Suboficial Mayor," Graham replied solemnly.

"I will pray for God to protect you."

When they returned to the ranch house to pick up the Buick, el Capital Delgano, attired in a natty suit, was waiting for them on the verandah with a suitcase. So was Second Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His seersucker jacket was lying on the verandah rail.

Delgano walked off the verandah and was approaching the Buick when Clete got there.

"Se?or Cletus," he said. "I overheard the housekeeper say you and Se?or Graham are going to Buenos Aires. I wondered if I could join you."