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

"As I understand it, mi Coronel, he was called up for training as a pilot, and then was physically disqualified and discharged."

"That happened to a cousin of mine when my class was called," Martin said. "He served three weeks."

"I think he finds it rather embarrassing," Mallin said. "That it somehow makes him less a man."

"It will also keep him from getting killed. In time, he will probably decide he was lucky."

"When my class was called up," Mallin said, "I didn't want to go. I was in love. But on the other hand, I was afraid that I would not pass the physical exaMi?ation."

"Precisely," Martin said, smiling. "And my last question, which obviously has nothing to do with internal security, is why Mister Frade is staying with you, and not with his father."

I knew he'd come to that. Of course that would interest BIS. Anything to do with Frade interests them, and now a son that nobody's ever heard of suddenly shows up, and instead of staying with his father or another member of the family, he stays with me. As if he doesn't want it known, or el Coronel Frade doesn't want it known, that there is a son, or that he's here. I would be suspicious of that myself.

"Well, for one thing, el Coronel Frade wasn't in town when young Frade arrived," Mallin said, hoping he sounded more at ease than he felt. "He was at his estancia, I believe. And for another, I welcomed the opportunity to repay the hospitality of Mr. Howell."

"I have heard—what, 'gossip'?—that there is some problem between father and son. Would you feel awkward talking about that?"

"I don't know anything about that," Mallin said. "I would suspect that it is, as you suggested, simply gossip. I do know that young Frade and his father are having lunch today."

"Oh, really?"

"At the Alvear Palace, if that's of interest to you."

"Only in that it puts the gossip to rest," Martin said. He stood up. "I won't take any more of your time, Se?or Mallin. Thank you very much for seeing me."

"It was my pleasure, mi Coronel," Mallin said, walking with Martin to the door.

"May I make a suggestion, Se?or Mallin?"

"Of course."

"I would suggest that you not mention to Mr. Frade, or his father, that we had this little chat. Internal Security has an unfortunate—and as far as I am concerned, unjustified—reputation. You have more than satisfactorily answered both my official queries and my personal curiosity. I can see no point in causing either of the gentlemen in question undue concern. Can you?''

"I take your point, mi Coronel."

"Thank you again," Martin said, smiled, shook Mallin's hand, and walked out of the office.

Enrico Mallin walked to the window overlooking the Rio de la Plata and rested his forehead on the cool glass.

He went over the entire conversation in his mind. He could think of nothing he said that was either untrue or could cause difficulty. But that did not alter the underlying unpleasant truth, which was that Internal Security was interested in his houseguest, and by association, in him.

Everybody knows that el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade is deeply involved with the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos. Will Internal Security now suspect that because I am close enough to Frade to entertain his son in my home, I am also closely connected with Grupo de Oficiales Unidos?

God, if I had known who his father was, I wouldn't have had him at the house for so much as a cocktail!

Goddamn the old man for not telling me who his grandson is!

That could have been innocent, of course. A natural reluctance to keep intimate family business private. But Clete should have said something; after all, he was a guest in my house! He should have known— of course he knew— that we would be interested to know who his father is. He didn't tell us until he had to! Why?

And I don't like the way he looks at Dorotea, either. Or the way she looks at him. How dare he call her "Princess"?

Well, he'll be gone tomorrow, or the day after, and after that, 1 will simply, tactfully, increase the distance between us.

Chapter Nine

[ONE]

Edificio Kavanagh

Calle Florida 1065

Buenos Aires, Argentina

1105 27 November 1942

El Teniente Coronel Martin found a pay telephone in a cigar-and-candy kiosk around the corner from the Edificio Kavanagh and called his office.

El Comandante Carlos Habanzo answered. It was not a Comandante's function to answer the phone; there were enlisted men and junior officers to do that. But in this case Martin decided to say nothing. For one thing, he was aware that he had been finding fault with just about everything Habanzo was doing; and for another, he wanted to speak to him.

"Habanzo, I need two good men—well-dressed, who won't look like whores in church—to be in the lobby of the Alvear Palace, with cameras, from eleven-thirty. They are to surveil a meeting between el Coronel Jorge Guillermo..."

"Mi Coronel, I regret that we have no one available at the moment"

"What do you mean, no one's available?"

"Mi Coronel, you reviewed and approved the assignment list this morning. I can, of course, call two men back from the pistol range, but there is no way they can reach the Alvear Palace by eleven-thirty."

"Comandante Habanzo, are you wearing a clean shirt?"

"S?, mi Coronel."

"The lobby of the Alvear Palace Hotel from eleven-thirty, Habanzo. Do not say hello to me. We'll dispense with photography."

"S?, mi Coronel. Mi Coronel, I could bring a camera."

"That won't be necessary. Just be there. You will be able to recognize young Frade?"

"Of course, mi Coronel."

[TWO]

1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz

Palermo. Buenos Aires

0945 27 November 1942

El Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade was already awake and out of bed, bathed, shaved, and sitting, dressed in a summer-weight red silk dressing robe, in an armchair reading yesterday's La Nation ( The most conservative of Buenos Aires' daily newspapers.) when Antonio, his butler, wheeled in the breakfast cart.

"Buenos dias, mi Coronel."

"I was wondering what happened to you," Frade said. He dropped the newspaper on the floor, walked to the cart, and lifted silver covers from several dishes on it.

"It is quarter to ten, mi Coronel," Antonio said, which was both an announcement of the time and a statement that breakfast was being served at the time it was supposed to be served.

Frade looked at his watch.

"So it is," he said. "I think melon and ham, Antonio, and a couple of eggs. Presuming they are neither raw nor hard-boiled."

"Four minutes exactly, mi Coronel," Antonio said. "I boiled them myself."

"That's what I was afraid of," Frade said.

Antonio began moving items from the breakfast cart to a table, as Frade picked up a chair and carried it to the table. He sat down and watched as Antonio poured orange juice and then coffee, and then began to cut the meat from a cantaloupe.

Frade picked up the orange juice.

"And what are we going to wear today, mi Coronel?"

"A suit. I have an important lunch."

"The double-breasted gray?"

"That should do," Frade said. "With one of the new shirts."

"S?, mi Coronel."

"And for a tie?"

"Lay several out," Frade said.

"S?, mi Coronel. And the black wing tips?"

Frade nodded.

"The Se?ora asks that you call when you have time," Antonio said. "At her home."

"Here? She's in town?"

"S?, mi Coronel."

"The Se?ora will have to wait. If she calls again, please tell her I will try to call her this afternoon. And while you're on the phone, call the Centro Naval (Literally, Navy Center. An officer's club serving both services on Calle Florida.) and tell them I may require my table for luncheon."

"For how many guests, mi Coronel?"

"One."

"S?, mi Coronel," Antonio said as he picked up a silver coffeepot and refilled el Coronels cup. "You will require the car when, mi Coronel?"