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

Just as he noticed that the flames from the engine were playing less fiercely than before against the windshield, the Beechcraft stopped flying. It fell to the left, and a second later the left wingtip struck the water and the plane cartwheeled.

It stopped upside down, then started to sink by the nose.

He tore himself free of the lap belt, aware that he had cut himself somewhere, fell from the seat, and made his way back to Tony. Tony was groggy, but awake enough to be trying to make his way to the open door.

Clete followed him, deciding that wherever the Lusitania life belt he'd stored behind the co-pilot's seat was now, he had no chance of finding it. He went through the door as the fuselage turned upward, then settled into the water.

His first thought was that he was alive, that they were alive. But this was quickly replaced by the thought that without a life belt, there was no way he could swim for much more than thirty minutes; and thirty minutes wasn't going to get him anywhere near the shore.

He didn't think they could both be supported by Tony's life belt. And then he realized that, too, was a moot question. Even if they could stay afloat, they would be swept out to sea.

It would have been better, neater, easier, if the fucking thing had blown up in the air.

He saw Tony bobbing around in his life vest at the same moment Tony saw him. They started to swim—Tony to paddle awkwardly—toward one another.

There was a far-off explosion, followed by a dull flash of yellow light, and then a second explosion, and a second flash of light, and then a third.

"We got the sonofabitch!" Tony said.

"The Navy got the sonofabitch."

"Yeah, where the fuck was the Navy before ..."

There was a final explosion, a spectacular series of explosions, accompanied by brilliant fire rising high in the sky.

The light died quickly, and then all that they could see was burning fuel floating on the surface.

Then there was a series of splashes.

Christ, that blew pieces of the ship all the way over here!

And then there was silence.

"Put your life belt on," Tony said.

"I don't have it."

"I've got it."

With a good deal of effort—it was unbelievably difficult to manage in the water—Clete finally got the life belt on.

And now we get swept out to sea by the waters of the beautiful Rio de la Plata.

"There's a light," Tony said.

Clete looked around. A searchlight was sweeping the sea. He could hear the sound of a marine engine.

"Over here!" he shouted.

"It may be from that fucking ship!" Tony said.

"And it may not be. I'll take my chances."

The spotlight found them, blinding them.

Two minutes later a boat hook caught Clete by the collar of his life jacket. He felt himself being dragged to the boat.

"Se?or Cletus," Enrico's voice said. "If you would turn around, it would be easier to lift you in the boat."

Clete turned and found himself facing a polished mahogany hull. A moment later, he was jerked into the boat, falling flat on his face. He raised his head and saw another familiar face, this one at the controls.

"Where'd you get the boat, Chief?"

"Same place we got everything else," Schultz said. "From your father. Enrico and I didn't want to say anything, but we figured you was going to go in the water, and we figured we'd be here to fish you out. You all right, Mr. Frade?"

"I'm fine. Where's Mr. Pelosi?"

"Aft," Schultz said, and Clete looked. Tony, dazed but smiling, was sitting in the rear cockpit of what looked to be a Chris-Craft speedboat.

"Did you see that sonofabitch blow?" Chief Schultz asked as he spun the wheel and pushed the throttle forward. "It blew pieces of that sonofabitch to Africa."

[NINE]

Cafe Paris

Recoleta

Buenos Aires

1425 5 January 1943

Dorotea Mallin, wearing a pink cotton dress, removed her hand from that of First Lieutenant Cletus H. Frade, USMCR, and smiled over his shoulder.

"Hello, Se?or Graham," she said.

"Miss Mallin," Graham said. "How nice to see you. Clete, you're a hard man to find."

"Not by accident," Clete said.

"Miss Mallin, I have a few things to say to Clete before I leave."

"I was afraid of that," Clete interrupted.

"Do you suppose I could have a few minutes alone with Clete?” Graham concluded.

"Princess, would you take a walk around the park, please?"

"Of course," she said, smiling and not liking it a bit.

"Beautiful girl," Graham said, watching Dorotea walk away.

"What's on your mind?"

"Well, there are some choices you have to make."

"Such as?"

"What you do next."

"I'm being given a choice?"

"On the one hand, the Marine Corps is perfectly willing to have you back—you're a major, by the way, congratulations."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

“Well, you were promoted captain the day after we met in San Francisco. I didn't tell you because it would have started you thinking about getting your own squadron."

"Thanks a lot, Colonel. Are you saying I can go back to the Corps and get a squadron?"

"No, I'm not. You're not listening. You can go back to the Corps, but they won't give you a squadron because majors don't command squadrons. You know that."

"What's this major business?"

“You were promoted major as of the day the President heard of the mysterious maritime incident in the Bay of Samboromb?n. For exceptionally meritorious leadership of an unspecified nature."

"I almost believe you."

"Your second option is to remain here."

"Doing what?"

"Ostensibly as Assistant Naval Attach?."

"And non-ostensibly?"

“Working for us. The Naval Attach? will be advised that his only role in your regard will be to assign you no duties and to ask you no questions."

"You want me here because of my father," Clete said bluntly.

"Obviously. Your father thinks he lost his chance to become President. I don't think so. But whatever his role will be down here, it will be important to us. If nothing else, you'll have his ear."

"How are you going to tell whose side I'm on?"

“You proved your loyalty beyond any reasonable doubt a couple of days ago."

"And the Argentines know how. They'll know I'm a spy, or whatever."

"As a general rule of thumb, all military attach?s are spies. Some of them are better at it than others. Think it through, Clete. It makes a good deal of sense."

"What about Pelosi and Ettinger?"

"Ettinger came to me. He wants to stay here. He thinks he can get interesting information from the Jews coming from Europe. I don't know about Pelosi."

"Pelosi wants to stay."

"No problem, we assign him as an assistant to the Army Attach?."

"Chief Schultz?"

"I thought you might want him. Sure."

"There's probably a hook in here somewhere, even if I can't see it. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Good first rule for an intelligence officer. Trust nobody. Can I take it you'll stay?"

Clete looked out the window. The No-Longer-Virgin Princess had taken a very quick walk around the park and was now standing outside the cafe, smiling somewhat nervously.

"Only a fool would leave, Colonel. And I'm not a fool."

He raised his hand to the No-Longer-Virgin Princess.

Smiling happily, she walked quickly toward him.

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