W. IV - Honor Bound 05 - The Honor of Spies

"Is there an Argentine equivalent of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?" Dulles pursued.

After a moment, Graham said, "Yeah. The Gendarmeria Nacional."

"Would you care to wager a small amount that Renfrew has something to do with the Gendarmeria Nacional?"

"If he's a pal of Cavalry, he probably runs the Gendarmeria Nacional," Graham said. "Don't let this go to your head, but for a Princetonian you're pretty clever."

"And are you going to reward me with another taste from our Pinch bottle?"

"I thought you would never ask," Graham said, and rose from his desk and went to the coffee table where he poured scotch whisky in glasses for both of them.

Dulles sat in Graham's chair and resumed reading.

Graham returned with their drinks, set them on the desk, and then went to take one of the chairs in front of his desk to move it next to Dulles.

"That makes sense," Dulles said. "On both counts. The one thing Argentina doesn't need is a Spanish-type civil war, and all the ingredients for one are there, just waiting for someone to strike a match."

"Yeah. And wouldn't the Chileans and the Brazilians like that?"

Dulles raised his eyes to Graham's and answered the unspoken question in them:

"I really didn't think Frade would find out," Dulles said.

"But you didn't tell me."

"I planned to."

"He said, lamely."

"Honest to God, Alex, I forgot."

" 'Tomorrow morning,' " Dulles said. "That means this morning, right?"

"Western Union service has been a little slow," Graham said sarcastically. "If he left Buenos Aires--probably, almost certainly, in his Lodestar--at, say, oh nine hundred, he's been there for hours. It's about a four-hour flight."

" His Lodestar? A prerogative of being managing director of South American Airways? Very nice."

"No. It is his personal Lodestar. His father had a Staggerwing Beechcraft. Our Cletus borrowed it, then got shot down in it dropping flares out of it to illuminate the Reine de la Mer so the USS Devil-Fish could put a torpedo into her.

"Our commander in chief was so delighted that he made our Cletus a captain, gave him another Distinguished Flying Cross--which he deserved--and then ordered the Air Corps to immediately replace the lost Beechcraft. Not just via some flunky: Roosevelt ordered General Hap Arnold, the Chief of Staff of the Air Corps, to personally see to it.

"The Air Corps didn't happen to have any Staggerwing Beechcrafts in stock--I think they stopped making them in 1940--but they had an order from the President, relayed through General Arnold, to replace the aircraft lost in South America. So they took a Lodestar intended as a VIP transport and sent that to Brazil, where it was painted with the same identification numbers of the Staggerwing--and in Staggerwing Red--and notified me that the 'plane' was ready. I told our Cletus to go get what I thought would be another Staggerwing.

"He did. And when he got to Brazil, he saw the Lodestar as a good way to get the radar and its crew into Argentina. So, with about two hours of instruction in how to fly it, he did just that. Without a copilot.

"And made it. When I heard about it, I caught the next Panagra Clipper and went down there and reamed him a new anal orifice for being so stupidly arrogant as to think he was that good a pilot.

"Frankly, my heart wasn't in that. What I was hoping was that the ass-chewing would make him think twice the next time he wanted to do something so off the wall."

"And did that work?"

"You've met him, Allen, what would you say?"

Dulles looked at Marine Corps Colonel A. F. Graham and with a straight face said, "I would say that Major Frade is a typical Marine officer," then returned his attention to the message.

"Man from the Delta?" Dulles asked.

"Oberstleutnant Frogger," Graham replied. "Frogger's son. We got him out of the VIP POW camp in the Mississippi Delta."

"And he's at the Brewery?"

Graham nodded.

"So what are we going to tell Frade to do?"

" We are not going to tell him anything, Allen. You blew your right to tell him anything when you didn't tell him--or me, so that I could tell him--about the phony sergeant major. And, on that subject, is there anything else you think Frade or I should know?"

"No, Alex, there isn't."

"Until about five minutes ago, that would have been good enough. Now I'm not sure."

Dulles's face tightened.

Graham didn't back down. "Goddamn it, we had an agreement--no secrets, nothing that could be misunderstood between us."

"Yes, we did. And I broke it. By oversight, not intention, but I broke it and I said I was sorry."

Graham didn't reply.

"What would you like me to do, Alex? Get on my knees and beg forgiveness? Commit suicide?"

"Good thoughts," Graham said. "How about getting on your knees and committing hara-kiri on the White House lawn?"

"As reluctant as I am to correct an always correct military man such as yourself, I have to tell you--presuming you are talking about self-disembowelment--the proper term for it is seppuku. "

"They taught you that at Princeton, did they?"

"Indeed they did."

"In that case, go seppuku yourself, Allen."

They smiled at each other.

"So what are you going to tell Frade to do?" Dulles asked.

"Watch and listen, Allen. But first get out of my chair."

Dulles got up and Graham sat down.

He pushed the lever on his desk intercom device.

"Alice, would you ask Colonel Raymond to come in, please?"

Graham rummaged in his desk drawer and came up with a book of matches.

Raymond appeared almost instantly at the door. Alice stood behind him.

"Sir?"

"Colonel, can you assure me that there are no copies of this message in some file cabinet--or anywhere else--at Vint Hill Farms Station?"

"Yes, sir, I can."

"There will be a brief reply to this one. Alice, please write this down--not in shorthand--so that Colonel Raymond can take it back to Vint Hill, send it, and then burn it--repeat burn it."

"Yes, sir," Alice said.

" 'Pinocchio did not lie. Princeton didn't think you are as smart as you are. Use your best judgment. Keep me advised. Graham, Colonel, USMCR.' Read it back, please, Alice."

She did so.

"Now give it to Colonel Raymond to make sure he can read your writing."

"Yes, sir."

"I can read it fine, sir," Raymond said a moment later.

"Get that out immediately when you get back to Vint Hill Station, please."

"Yes, sir."

"That will be all, then, Colonel. Thank you."

"Yes, sir," Raymond said, came to attention, and saluted. Graham returned it. Raymond did a crisp about-face and marched out of the office.

When he was gone, Graham said, "Now that it's a done deed, I will listen to your comments."

"I don't think you had any other choice," Dulles said. "At the moment, we have absolutely no control over what Frade will do or won't do, even if we knew what to tell him to do."

"Great minds take similar paths," Graham said. Then he struck a match and, holding Frade's message to him over his wastebasket, set the message on fire.

[FIVE]

Casa Montagna

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