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

"And you just happened to mention in passing to the cardinal-archbishop that you just happen to have a friend who just happens to be going to Portugal and then coming right back?"

Welner nodded.

"What's the message, I wonder?" Clete said more than a little unpleasantly. " 'Hey, Archbishop, you got a spare room?' "

"Clete, what are you talking about?" Dorotea snapped, both in confusion and in anger.

"Maybe the Holy Father has decided it's time to get out of Dodge," Clete said. "The Germans are occupying Rome, except for Vatican City, and the only thing keeping them out of Vatican City are maybe one hundred--maybe a few more--Swiss Guards wearing medieval uniforms and armed with pikes."

"I can't imagine any circumstance under which the Holy Father would leave the Vatican at this time," Welner said. "And what's keeping the Nazis out of the Holy City is world opinion."

"'World opinion'?" Clete parroted. "Wow! Now, that should really scare Hitler."

"I won't beg you, Cletus," Welner said.

Frade met the priest's eyes for a long moment.

"Enrico, take his bag and put it, and him, on the airplane," Frade said. "And then you stay on it."

"Thank you," Father Welner said.

"De nada," Clete said sarcastically, the Spanish expression for "It is nothing."

Capitan Roberto Lauffer, the heavy golden aiguillettes of a presidential aide-de-camp hanging from each shoulder, quickly walked up to them. He kissed Dorotea, and quickly shook hands with Father Welner and Cletus, and then announced, "Cletus, the president wants to wish you luck."

Dorotea went to the stairway--now draped in bunting--with him.

"Behave yourself," Clete said. "I'll be back in a week."

"What was all that about with Father Welner?"

This may be the last thing I'll ever say to my wife; I'm not going to lie to her.

"He was lying to me, sweetheart. I don't know why, or what about, but he was lying to me."

"Then why are you taking him?"

"I owed him, and he called the debt."

She laid her hand on his cheek.

"When you get to the top of the stairs, remember to turn, smile, and wave at the people."

"Take care of our baby."

"Take care of our baby's father."

He kissed her very gently on the forehead. She squeezed his hand, and then he quickly went up the stairs.

At the top, he turned and waved at the crowd on the tarmac.

There was applause and cheers.

Undeserved.

I am really not qualified to fly this thing across the Atlantic Ocean.

What's probably going to happen is that I'm going to dump this thing somewhere in the ocean and take all these people with me.

On the way to the cockpit, he stopped by Father Welner's chair.

"Start praying. We're going to need it."

The copilot-- What the hell is his name? --was already strapped into his seat and wearing headphones.

"Add 150 kilos to our gross weight," Clete ordered as he sat down. "We have an unexpected extra passenger."

"Si, Senor."

Gonzalo Delgano had naturally--he was, after all, SAA's chief pilot--wanted to sit in the left seat. Or failing that, if SAA's managing director pulled rank and wanted to be pilot-in-command, to at least be copilot on the first transatlantic flight.

Clete had told him that it just didn't make sense for both of them to be on the same flight, which stood a fairly good chance of winding up in the drink. Clete promised Delgano he would be pilot-in-command on the first paying-passenger flight.

There was a seed of truth in Clete's position. It was also true that Clete believed a commanding officer should not order anyone to do anything he was not willing to do himself.

But the real reason was that there were some things about the flight Clete did not want Delgano to know. Not that Delgano was going to run off at the mouth. But he probably would have told el Coronel Martin that Clete expected to be met off the coast of North Africa by U.S. Army Air Force P-38 fighters flying off the Sidi Slimane U.S. Army Air Force Base in Morocco.

Word of the Connie's departure from Buenos Aires would reach Spain long before the airplane did. Colonel Graham--and Allen Dulles, which made it twice as credible--thought that there would be a genuine risk of the Germans sending fighters to shoot down the Constellation--possibly, maybe even probably, from Spanish airfields that they secretly were using.

"The Argentine brave, but foolhardy, attempt to emulate German TransOceanic commercial air service, sadly, but predictably, ended in tragedy. Their airplane simply vanished somewhere in the Atlantic."

The American fighters would be guided to the rendezvous point by the Collins radio. They would home in on the airplane much as an airplane would home in on a landing field.

Once the rendezvous had been made, SAA Flight 1002 would home in on a radio-direction-finding signal from another Collins radio secretly installed in the U.S. Embassy building in Lisbon, which was conveniently located less than a mile from Lisbon's Portela Airport.

The P-38s would linger over the Portuguese coast long enough to ensure that the Constellation had landed safely. If Allen Dulles suspected that all was not as it should be at the Portela Airport, the radio in the embassy would order the Constellation to divert to Sidi Slimane, to which it would be escorted by the American fighter planes.

Clete stuck his head out the window and saw that the bunting-draped stairway had been pulled back.

He fastened his shoulder harness, put his headset over his ears, and pushed the switch activating the public address system.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "this is your captain. Welcome aboard SAA Flight 1002, one-stop service to Lisbon, Portugal. We are about to take off. Please fasten your seat belts."

He paused, then smiled and went on. "Then place your head between your knees and kiss your ass good-bye."

The copilot looked at him in shock.

Clete repeated the message in Spanish.

The copilot first smiled, then giggled, then laughed almost hysterically.

"Get on the horn and get us taxi and takeoff," Clete ordered.

Still laughing, the copilot reached for his microphone.

"Flight engineer, you awake?" Clete asked over his microphone.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, let's wind up the rubber bands and see if we can get this big sonofabitch off the ground."

"Starting Number Three, sir."

There was the whine of the starters and then the sound of an engine--somewhat reluctantly--coming to life. The aircraft trembled with the vibration of a 3,250-horsepower Wright R-3350-DA3 engine running a little rough.

In a moment, it smoothed out.

"Starting Number Four."

The second engine started more easily.

"I have Three and Four running and moving into the green," Clete said.

"Confirmed, Captain."

"We are cleared to taxi, Captain," the copilot reported. "We are Number One for taxi-off."

"Thank you. Disconnect auxiliary power."

"Disconnecting auxiliary power."

"I have auxiliary power disconnected," Clete said after a moment. "Three and Four in the green. Engineer, start Number Two."

"Starting Number Two."

"See if you can get us to the threshold without running over anything big."

"Jorge Frade, SAA 1002 taxiing to the threshold of Runway Three Zero."

"Engineer, start Number One."

"Starting Number One."

"Jorge Frade clears 1002 to take off as Number One."

Two minutes after that, Frade said, "I have everything in the green."

"Confirm all green," the flight engineer said.

Clete then ordered: "Copilot, pay close attention. I am now going to try real hard not to bend our bird."

"Yes, sir," the copilot said, smiling.