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

“If the Capitan would be so good as to wait here, I will tell el Coronel that you have arrived."

Enrico headed for a man wearing an ornate uniform that looked like a costume for a Viennese light opera about shenanigans in some obscure Balkan dukedom. Jesus Christ, he realized somewhat belatedly, that's Cletus's father!

Beatrice Frade de Duarte, wearing a black silk dress, a hat with a veil, and a single strand of enormous pearls, saw him first. She came quickly across the room, took his arm, and led him into the presence of Cletus's father.

“Capitan von Wachtstein,” she said, as if they were at a dress ball, "may I present my brother, el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade?"

"A sus ?rdenes, mi Coronel," Peter said, then clicked his heels and bowed, which caused him to feel alarmingly light-headed.

"Capitan von Wachtstein is the officer who brought Jorge home, Jorge," Se?ora de Duarte said.

"So I have been informed," el Coronel Frade said. "Might I have a word with you, Capitan?"

"Of course, mi Coronel."

Frade took his arm and led him out of the foyer down a corridor into the kitchen. He went to a refrigerator, took out a lemon, sliced it into thirds, and handed one of the thirds to Peter.

"If you eat the whole thing, skin and all, it will probably mask the fumes of the cognac," Frade said.

Oh, shit!

"Apologies are in order. I extend them. And I thank you," Peter said, and put the piece of lemon in his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it.

"I cannot ask an apology from you for doing exactly what I have been doing," Frade said. Peter looked at him in surprise. "I required the same liquid courage," Frade went on. "If I had not arranged for the Ministry of Defense to approve my nephew's idiot notion to go to Germany, neither of us would be here."

What an astonishing thing to say!

"Oh damn you, Jorge, you promised!" a very striking middle-aged woman said, mingled anger and resignation in her voice. "And don't try to tell me that lemon is for tea."

"That is exactly what it's for," Frade said. "El Capitan von Wachtstein and I are about to have a cup of tea. And then I thought I would offer the Capitan a little liquid courage to help him through this .. . this obscene ceremony."

"Jorge!"

"Capitan, may I present Se?ora Carzino-Cormano, who has the odd notion that she is entitled to treat me like a child."

"Encantado, Se?ora," Peter said, and clicked his heels and bowed again.

"If you are visibly drunk, I will never forgive you," Claudia said to Frade, ignoring Peter.

"I am never visibly drunk."

"Cletus just arrived," Claudia said. "Just as you came in here."

"The Se?ora, Capitan," Frade said, "refers to my son, late Teniente of the U.S. Corps of Marines aviation service. He served with great distinction at Guadalcanal. Presumably, you have heard of Guadalcanal?''

"Jorge, my God!" Claudia protested, and turned to Peter. "You must excuse el Coronel, Capitan. He mourns the death of his nephew more than he is willing to admit."

Alicia Carzino-Cormano walked up to them.

Remarkably beautiful young woman!

"Cletus is here," Alicia said to her mother, then turned to Frade: "I think he's looking for you."

"Captain, this is my daughter, Alicia," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said.

"Hauptmann Freiherr von Wachtstein at your service, Se?orita."

Isabela Carzino-Cormano walked up and smiled dazzlingly at Peter.

"I don't believe I have the privilege of this gentleman's acquaintance," she said.

Frade, ignoring her, took Peter's arm.

“Perhaps you would like to meet my son," he said.

"Jorge, damn you!" Claudia said. "How much have you had?" Then she turned and smiled at Peter. "And my other daughter, Capitan, Isabela," Claudia said.

"Encantado, Se?orita," Peter said.

Not nearly as beautiful as the sister.

Frade tugged at his arm.

"I have the privilege of the Herr Lieutenant Frade's acquaintance, mi Coronel."

"The privilege of his acquaintance?" Isabela asked incredulously. "Isn't he your enemy?"

"I met him briefly," Peter went on, "when enjoying the hospitality of your Guest House, mi Coronel."

Not briefly. We got drunk together. We were not enemies, but pilots talking about flying.

"Though el Capitan and my son, Isabela," Frade proclaimed, "are officers of opposing military services, they are first and foremost officers and gentlemen. They bear each other no personal animosity. Isn't that so, Capitan?"

"S?, mi Coronel."

"That's outrageous!" Isabela said. "The Capitan is agreeing with you to be polite."

Frade snorted.

"Tell her, Capitan. She has her mother's inability to conceive that she could possibly be wrong."

"No tea for you," Claudia said. "Coffee. Several cups. Right now. You must again forgive el Coronel, Capitan. His behavior is inexcusable."

"Forgive me, Se?ora," Peter said. "El Coronel is quite correct. I bear Herr Lieutenant Frade no ill will. In other circumstances, I feel sure we could become friends."

On the other hand, I am obviously perfectly willing to sit here with my finger in my ass doing nothing to warn him that he's going to be murdered.

But, of course, I can't do that. From the moment Gr?ner told me his plans, I knew I wouldn't be able to just let things happen. I will warn him.

But how?

Perhaps if I went to von Lutzenberger and told him, he would order Gr?ner to call off his thugs. But Gr?ner would certainly work out where von Lutzenberger got his information. And if von Lutzenberger decides that Cletus is expendable, and that I should just stay out of it, then I could not warn Cletus; Gr?ner and von Lutzenberger would both know I told him.

And Gr?ner would call that "giving aid and comfort to the enemy.''

Enrico appeared.

"Mi Coronel, there is a German officer looking for el Capitan. I put him in the small office off the library."

Gr?ner with the Knight's Cross and the goddamned pillow,Peter thought.

"I will take you to him," Frade announced.

"No, you won't," Claudia said. "You will stay here and have coffee. Alicia, would you please take el Capitan to the library?"

Alicia took von Wachtstein's arm.

"Yes, of course, Mother," she said, smiling sweetly at her sister.

Chapter Sixteen

[ONE]

1420 Avenue Alvear

Buenos Aires. Argentina

1430 19 December 1942

Clete Howell wasn't able to get anywhere near Aunt Beatrice's house in the Buick. So he parked three blocks away. As he uneasily left the car, the maid's lecture on crime in the streets of Buenos Aires was very much on his mind. Then he stood in line. When he reached its head, he encountered a polite but firm plain-clothes policeman, who seemed deeply saddened to inform him that without an invitation he could not enter the mansion.

Everything is going splendidly,Clete thought. Getting better and better every day in every way. Not only did that bastard Nestor as much as accuse me of cowardice for telling him the truth, but now they won't let me into a funeral I don't want to go to in the first place.

The more he thought about flying a TBF down from Brazil to torpedo the Reine de la Mer, the more it seemed like a good idea ... the best he could come up with.

Or do I like it mostly because Nestor thinks it is a bad idea? Nestor was probably right when he said that the OSS brass decided against taking out theReine de la Mer with a torpedo-carrying airplane ... just as they must have turned down the idea of taking it out with a B-17 from Brazil.

The problem with the B-17 is that it has a lousy record against shipping. And the TBF idea was rejected, in all probability, because it does not have the range to make it from wherever they are operating in Brazil to theReine de la Mer in Samboromb?n Bay.

It doesn't. And since Uruguay is neutral, the brass obviously concluded that a TBF could not file a flight plan to an en route airport, where the pilot could sit down and tell the ground crew to top off the tanks, and then ask for the weather between there and Samboromb?n Bay. And the brass also understandably decided that it could not sit down on a dirt road somewhere in the middle of nowhere and get refueled. The landing gear of a TBF was designed for use on the paved runways of an airfield, or else on the deck of an aircraft carrier.