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

"I thought I would talk her out of this nonsense at a later time. There are ... certain measures ... one can take to prevent pregnancy. After a while, after you were born, she told me she had discussed this question with her confessor, and the priest told her there was only one thing she could do to avoid children. You know what I mean."

No, I don't. Oh, yeah. Abstinence.

"What happened thereafter is clearly my responsibility," Frade said. “I knew the risk, and out of selfishness, I took it. And you know what happened. But I loved her so much, with such passion ..."

"Why did you leave me in the States?"

"Your grandfather hated me, with obvious good cause. Your uncle James hated me."

"You could have told them."

"They would not have believed it. And I could not, in any event, try to blame your mother's religious fanaticism for what happened. God didn't make her pregnant, I did."

He looked at Clete.

"I asked you, why did you leave me in the States?" Clete said.

"I hoped not to get into this, Cletus."

"Get into it."

"When I went to Midland and drove to the ranch, I was arrested—by two Texas Rangers, by the way—and charged with trespassing. I was sentenced to ninety days in the county prison. When I was finally able to get a lawyer—I was employed on the county roads, clearing drainage ditches—he told me that an appeal of my jail sentence, much less an application to the courts to have you returned to me, would be a waste of effort."

The Old Man is certainly capable of arranging that.

"The lawyer did tell me that he could have the sentence vacated on my promise to leave Texas and never return. So I accepted that offer and sought other legal counsel. When I arrived at the courthouse seeking an injunction to have you returned to me, I was rearrested by the Texas Rangers for parole violation, and returned to Midland to complete my sentence."

"I never heard any of this."

"I'm not surprised," Frade said simply. "When I was released from jail, officials of the Immigration Service were waiting outside. My visa had been revoked on allegations that my morals were not up to the standards required of visitors to the United States. I was taken to El Paso, Texas, and escorted across the Mexican border."

"Incredible!"

“In Mexico City, a firm of lawyers—I was assured they were the best around—informed me that my case was virtually hopeless. In order to petition a Federal Court for your return to me, I had to be physically in the United States. Otherwise—I remember the phrase well—I 'had no legal status' before the court. And I could not, of course, obtain another visa to enter the United States. Your grandfather hates with a great depth, Cletus. In a way, it's admirable."

"My mother was his only daughter," Clete said softly.

“Yes, of course. In Buenos Aires, I consulted with our Foreign Ministry, who took the case to the Argentine Ambassador in Washington." He shrugged, holding out his arms helplessly. "Little pressure could be brought to bear ... especially now that several United States senators had already brought the case to the attention of the State Department. The senators were furious that an American child might be expatriated into the care of a father whose morals were ..."

"Jesus H. Christ."

“I considered having you taken—kidnapped. But I finally ... Your aunt Martha loved you. I knew that. She would be a mother to you. I was alone. It would be better for you to be raised by Martha than by my sister, who has never been entirely sound mentally. Or by servants. So I quit, Cletus. Gave up."

"All I can do is repeat that I knew nothing."

"I was right about one thing. Jim and Martha raised you well."

Very hesitantly, one of the maids entered.

"We do not wish to be disturbed," Frade said softly.

"The Se?ora is here, mi Coronel. She asks to be received."

"I will be a son of a bitch!" Frade exclaimed.

"The Se?ora?" Clete asked.

"She is the Carzino-Cormano widow," Frade explained. "She has an estancia nearby. Pushy woman. Comes here whenever she feels like it. Does not have the good manners to telephone to see if it would be convenient. I had hoped she would spare me today." He turned to the maid. "Tell the Se?ora that we will join her shortly."

The door opened again and a svelte woman in her fifties walked into the dining room. Her gray-flecked, luxuriant black hair was folded up under a hat with a veil; a double string of pearls hung from her neck; and a golden sunburst with diamond-chip decorations was pinned to the right breast of her black silk dress.

"1 was planning to bring him by to meet you tomorrow," Frade

said.

"So you said," she said. She looked around the room, and turned to the maid. "Clean up the mess on the floor, remove the whiskey, and bring champagne. I told Ramona to chill half a dozen bottles this morning."

The maid hurried to obey her orders.

"I have not finished my drink," Frade protested.

"Yes, you have," she said. She walked to Clete. He rose to his feet as she put out her hand. "You are Cletus. I am Claudia de Carzino-Cormano. You may call me Claudia."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She turned to Frade. “There is much of his mother in him, but also much of you. Which may not be entirely a good thing."

Three maids entered the room, one stooping to clean up the mess on the floor, the others carrying a silver wine cooler and a tray of glasses.

"Can you open that?” Claudia inquired. "How much have you had to drink?"

"I have had this one drink."

"And how many before? You were as nervous as a virgin on her bridal night when I talked to you this morning."

This woman is not simply a pushy widow woman from the next spread,Clete thought.

Claudia took the champagne bottle from the cooler, expertly uncorked it, and poured.

She handed Clete a glass, then handed one to his father, and finally picked hers up.

"Welcome to Argentina," she said, and raised her glass. Clete followed suit.

Claudia held up her hand to stop the toast.

"No," she said. "More importantly. Welcome home, Cletus. Your father has been waiting for you for a long time."

"Thank you," Clete said, and his voice broke.

Claudia walked quickly to him and laid a hand on his cheek. Then, with a little hug, she kissed him. He could smell expensive perfume.

"It is all right to cry," she said. "Your father cries often."

She was right. When Clete looked at his father, tears were running down his cheeks.

[SIX]

Bureau of Internal Security

Ministry of Defense

Edificio Libertador

Avenida Paseo Colon

Buenos Aires

2045 14 December 1942

El Teniente Coronel Bernardo Martin, in a foul mood, parked his car directly in front of the main entrance of the building and stormed inside.

It is almost nine o'clock, after all, and unless Paraguay or Chile has invaded Argentina as an evening surprise, there will be no one superior in rank to me in the building, and I can park wherever the hell I choose.

The ornately uniformed guards standing by the door moved from parade rest to rifle salute as he passed (the formal guards at the Edificio Libertador wear the dress uniforms of the Patricios Regiment, circa 1809). Martin, who was wearing civilian clothing, forgot that he wasn't in uniform and returned the salute.

The door to the building was locked, and he pressed the bell button impatiently. A sargento appeared, immediately followed by a teniente, to tell him the building was closed. These men were in the field uniform, with German-style helmets and accoutrements, of the army unit charged with actually protecting—as opposed to decorating—the building.

He finally produced his Internal Security credentials. He disliked using them—and did not, unless he had to—because there was a lamentable and uncontrollable tendency on the part of people like this to remember him and point him out to their girlfriends: See the funny man? He's Internal Security!