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

Peter took his hand back, came to attention with a click of his heels, and saluted.

With a vague movement of his arm, Clete touched his hand to his right eyebrow, returning the salute.

Von Wachtstein did an about-face and marched out of the room.

I shouldn't have been so fucking casual with that salute. He meant his. I'll be damned if that bullshit they gave us at Quantico isn't true— that a salute is a gesture of greeting that is the privilege of warriors. The least I could have done was return it, not wave at him. Nice guy. Damned nice guy.

"Se?ora, I very much appreciate the breakfast, but could you come back in a couple of hours?"

"Se?or Clete," Se?ora Pellano said, setting the tray on the bed and fluffing his pillows, "it would be better if you had the coffee. Se?or Nestor will be here in twenty minutes."

"Se?or Nestor?"

"I told him you were not feeling well, and he said it was very important."

"Thank you, Se?ora," Clete said, and reached for the orange juice. "I will receive him."

"S?," she said, and then, "And you may have your car at any hour between twelve and three."

"What car?"

"There was a call from Se?or Mallin's secretary yesterday. Your car has arrived. The necessary papers have been accomplished, and you may go to the customs at any hour between twelve and three to take it from them."

"On Sunday?"

"It is a courtesy to Se?or Mallin," Se?ora Pellano said. "Or perhaps to your father."

"Won't it wait until tomorrow?"

"The officials will be there waiting for you, Se?or," she said.

In other words, you ungrateful bastard, go pick up the goddamn car.

"Thank you," Clete said. "Se?ora, would a little present for the man who has my car be in order?"

"A small gift of money would be nice. Or perhaps a few bottles of wine."

"Is there any here?"

"But of course. I will pack something appropriate for a small gift."

Sixty seconds after he stepped under the shower, there was a telephone call for him, surprising him not at all.

"Have them call back!" he ordered.

"It is your father, Se?or Cletus."

"Good morning, Cletus. It is your father calling."

"Good morning."

"I only a few hours ago learned—I am at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo—that you have returned from Uruguay."

"I got in late last night."

"And was an angry man with a pistol chasing you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I thought perhaps that a jealous husband had cut short your stay."

"No. Nothing like that. I just had enough."

"When I was your age, I never had enough. Did you meet the other guest at the house?"

Clete hesitated just perceptibly before replying.

"Just to say hello, to wish him a Merry Christmas. Se?ora Pellano tells me that he has left."

"It is of no importance. The people who arranged for him to stay there were not aware that it is now your residence," Frade said. "Tell me, have you plans for the day?"

"No, Sir."

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Certainly."

"I will send Enrico in the station wagon to you. He will bring you to the estancia, and you and I will have an American dinner. A rib of beef, with Worcestershire pudding. And perhaps a ride afterward. How does that sound to you?"

He means Yorkshire,Clete thought, smiling, and then: Is he alone out there? Lonely?

"I have someone coming to see me now; and, between twelve and three, I have to pick up my car at the port."

"Excuse me?"

"My car has arrived from New Orleans. Se?or Mallin has arranged for me to pick it up today between twelve and three."

"Then you do not wish to come?" His disappointment was evident.

"No, Sir. I'm just telling you what I have to do before I can come."

"I will call a friend in the Ministry of Customs," Frade said. "When you arrive at the port, there will be no problems."

"I think Se?or Mallin has already arranged that."

"I will call my friend. There will be no problems with Customs. And then Enrico, in the station wagon, will come from here to there and lead you back to the estancia."

"I can read a map. Is there someplace I can get a map?"

"Yes, of course you can read a map. Ask Se?ora Pellano to prepare one for you."

"Well, then, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I will be waiting with great expectations," el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade said, and the phone went dead.

Se?ora Pellano was standing there during the conversation, making Clete a little uncomfortable—he was wearing only a towel around his waist.

"Se?ora, could you make a map showing me how to drive to my father's estancia? I am going to have dinner with him."

"Marvelous," she said. "He will be pleased. I will draw you a map."

"I have a better idea," Clete said impulsively. "Why don't you ride down there with me? And show me the way?"

"I am not sure el Coronel would be pleased."

"You don't work for him, you work for me," Clete argued. She considered that a moment.

"Yes, that is true," she said. "And I could see my family, my sisters, my brother, my aunts."

"Then you're coming," Clete said.

"If you wish, Se?or Cletus," she said.

Chapter Thirteen

[ONE]

4730 Avenida Libertador

1005 14 December 1942

"It's a little early for that, isn't it?" Jasper C. Nestor asked with disapproval, indicating Clete's beer. But he softened the criticism by smiling and adding, "Is beer drinking at this hour another of those barbarous Texas customs we hear so much about?''

"It's medicinal," Clete said. "My uncle Jim taught me that. When you are all bent out of shape the morning after, a beer is far superior to coffee, prairie oysters, et cetera, et cetera. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? Tea?''

"I'll have coffee, thank you, if that would be convenient," Nestor said. "I presume you were celebrating your successful trip to Punta del Este."

"Our successful passage through Argentine customs with our souvenirs," Clete said. "I was really worried about that."

"Speaking of souvenirs, Clete: They didn't find the walkie-talkies in your room."

"I regret to inform you, Sir, that you'll have to fill out the appropriate form certifying that the walkie-talkies were lost in combat."

"If you need radios, Clete, ask me for them."

"All right."

"Where are they?"

"The explosives are here," Clete said, pointing at a large wardrobe. "Pelosi has the detonators."

"And the radios?"

"You mean the radios that were expended in the service of the United States? Those radios?"

"They're really upset about those radios. Apparently they are in very short supply."

"I thought they might be. Pelosi tells me they're brand-new."

Nestor's face tightened, but he didn't respond. He changed the subject: "The ship we're talking about has been positively identified. It's the Reine de la Mer. She sailed from Lisbon November thirteenth, so she should be arriving here in the next day or two. She may call at Montevideo first."

"OK."

"The next step will be locating her when she arrives in Argentinean waters. We're working on that," Nestor said, and then changed the subject. "Did Ettinger have any luck with Klausner when he went back to see him?"

"I haven't seen him since we got back. I thought I would drop by his place this morning. But since we know what ship it is, isn't that moot?"

"It is entirely possible that one of the other ships is also a replenishment vessel. This business is important to the Germans, and they have a reputation for being thorough."

"I don't know if he went back to see Klausner or not," Clete said. "But if he did ... I can't believe that declaration won't affect Klausner. Even if Ettinger doesn't tell him the figure is millions of people murdered, not thousands."

"You say you plan to see David today?"