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

"I didn't know you were familiar with those accommodations, Sir."

"Your grandfather was more than hospitable when I went to see him."

"I didn't know you'd been to see him."

"And more than cooperative. He's quite a fellow."

Now that he had a moment to think about it, Clete was not surprised that Colonel Graham had gotten along well with the old man. Strong men like other strong men. And if he liked you, the old man could be the personification of Southern charm and hospitality.

But that raised the question of why Graham had gone to see the old man.

"I'm on my way to Australia, and I wanted to talk to you before you go to Argentina."

"Yes, Sir."

Graham saw the look of surprise on Clete's face, and decided an explanation would not hurt.

"There are some people in the Pacific, believe it or not, who are not convinced that the OSS can be useful. One of them happens to be General MacArthur. I'm going down there to try to change his mind."

"Really?"

"We also serve, we who try to charm and reason," Graham said.

Clete chuckled.

"The other two men on your team," Graham said, turning to the business at hand, "are both soldiers."

"Yes, Sir?"

"They are Second Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi, who was in the 82nd Airborne, and Staff Sergeant David G. Ettinger, who has been a Special Agent in the Counterintelligence Corps. People in the CIC often don't wear uniforms; or if they do, they wear them without rank insignia. They're called 'Mister.' Did you know that?"

"No, Sir."

"Ettinger is Spanish, and a Jew. Most of his family—they had a German, primarily Berlin, branch—has been murdered by the Nazis. He's been working with the Immigration and Naturalization Service, trying to make sure that Spanish and German Jewish immigrants and refugees are what they say they are."

"Sir?"

"That they haven't been sent to the United States by the Abwehr or Sicherheitsdienst—German military intelligence and Secret Service, respectively."

"Do they try to do that?" Clete asked, fascinated.

"Not often, but enough to make it necessary to spend a lot of man-hours on the problem. People who should know tell me Ettinger was very good at what he was doing. Pelosi is from Chicago, and is really knowledgeable about explosives; his family is in the demolitions business. Even Colonel Baxter F. Newton-Haddle seems awed by his expertise."

"Sir, I don't know who Colonel..."

"Colonel Baxter F. Newton-Haddle is Deputy Director for Training," Graham explained. "He runs the Country Club, our training center in Virginia. Both Pelosi and Ettinger are there— or were there until this morning, when I sent them on leave."

"I don't know about the 'Country Club' either, Sir."

"You went through Parris Island as an enlisted man, didn't you? And before Parris Island, when you were at Texas A and M, you spent a summer at Fort Benning, right?''

"Yes, Sir."

"So you haven't missed anything by not going to the Country Club, except Colonel Newton-Haddle's welcoming speech. During that he customarily brandishes his dagger and tells the incoming class he will turn them into efficient killers ... or they'll die trying."

"Really?" Clete smiled.

"I shouldn't mock him. He renders a service. But you didn't need it, so you didn't go there. Anyway, Ettinger will be in New Orleans on Monday, November two, and Pelosi the following day. They will travel separately, for obvious reasons. And a team will come down from Washington to brief you. Ettinger will go to Buenos Aires, via Miami, on Wednesday, November four. His cover will be a job at the Bank of Boston, where the Buenos Aires station chief is a vice-president.

"His name is Jasper F. Nestor. We do the best we can to compartmentalize—" Graham interrupted himself. "Can you remember that name? Jasper F. Nestor?''

"Jasper F. Nestor," Clete repeated. "Yes, Sir."

"As I said, we try to compartmentalize as much as we can. Ettinger obviously has to know who Nestor is, but he has been told, and I'm telling you now, that Pelosi doesn't have the need to know that name."

"Yes, Sir."

"Jasper may or may not, it's his decision, put you in touch with the commanding officer of the team that's already down there. But you won't meet the other members of that team. Get the idea?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Pelosi's cover, and yours, will be Howell Petroleum. This subject will be gone into in greater detail in New Orleans. But, in shorthand, the Argentines want more Howell Petroleum. The U.S. government wants to make sure they consume that petroleum and don't sell it to the Germans. Conveniently, on your medical release from the Marine Corps ..." He paused, then added: "You did not serve on Guadalcanal, by the way. Your heart murmur was discovered while you were in flight school."

"My heart murmur?"

"Your heart murmur," Graham confirmed. "Conveniently, anyhow, you were available to go to Buenos Aires to make sure the oil goes where it is supposed to go. You will very visibly occupy yourself with that, by the way. The BIS ... you remember what that is?"

"Bureau of Internal Security."

Graham nodded, and continued, "... will certainly be watching you. You and Pelosi will apply for Argentine visas at their consulate in New Orleans, and then fly down there. Pelosi has some other training, how to sink a ship, to go through first. But the sooner we can get you down there, the better."

"Yes, Sir."

"It is entirely likely that by the time you reach there, the team already in place will have taken care of the 'neutral' replenishment ship. But the Germans will certainly replace it, and that will have to be dealt with. As long as the Germans keep sending ships in, we are going to take them out."

"Yes, Sir. But..."

"But what?"

"Colonel, I don't... Colonel, from what you tell me, both Ettinger and Pelosi know how to do this sort of thing. I don't know anything about it."

"I wondered when you would consider that."

"I started thinking about it on the train to Chicago," Clete said. "And I haven't stopped."

"Why you, in other words?"

Clete nodded. "Because of my father?"

"Certainly because of your father," Graham said. "But that's not the only reason. Clete, by now you must have learned there's no way to tell beforehand how a man is going to behave in combat."

He waited until he saw acceptance of the premise on Clete's face.

"And that the way you stay alive in combat is by making on-the-spot decisions what to do when unexpected things come up, things that were not covered in your training. You stay alive by thinking on your feet. You've proved you can do that."

"But I still don't know anything about taking out ships."

"You've proved that you can think on your feet. You would be qualified for this job if your father didn't exist."

"I feel like I'm going to find myself up to my ass in alligators," Clete blurted.

"You will be," Graham said, smiling. "But you'll be all right. If I didn't think you would, I wouldn't be sending you down there.

"You might want to consider taking your car with you," Graham said, changing the subject. "You'd be expected, I think, to do that."

"How do you know about my car?"

"Your grandfather told me," Graham said. "I told you, he's been very helpful."

"How would I get it down there?"

The idea of sending his car—a Buick convertible, as it happened—anywhere by ship, in wartime, came as a shock. The car belonged to another life, a life that ended when he went into the Corps.

"I would recommend E.L.M.A.," Graham said matter-of-factly. "It stands for Empresa Lineas Mantimas Argentinas. They have direct service between New Orleans and Buenos Aires."

He saw the look of surprise or confusion on Clete's face, and added: "Argentina is neutral. Both we and the Germans scrupulously observe that neutrality. We don't sink Argentinean flagged ships, and neither do they."