"Sorry to wake you, Cletus," Lauffer said politely. "But something has come up. The order to execute immediately has been given."
Nice choice of words, Roberto! It's really great to have someone waking you up in the middle of the night saying things like "the order to execute immediately has been given."
The door to the other bedroom opened, and Enrico, in baggy cotton undershirt and drawers, came in. He had his right hand behind his back.
I don't think Enrico's scratching his ass; he's got his .45 back there.
"Buenos dias, mi Capitan."
"The order for immediate execution ofOutline Blue has been issued, Suboficial Mayor," Lauffer said formally.
"I will get dressed, Se?or," Enrico said.
Clete swung his feet out of bed.
"What are you talking about?" Clete asked. "What's this 'execute immediately' order all about?"
"Castillo knows that Blue Sky was orderedthe command to executeOutline Blue," Lauffer explained. "He sent messages to every command, stating that General Ramirez has resigned as Minister of War, that any orders Ramirez might issue are to be ignored, and that General Savaronna has taken his place."
"Who's Savaronna?"
"He was Castillo's Minister of Labor," Lauffer furnished, and then went on: "We expected something like that might happen, Coronel Mart?n predicted it. The only thing that's changed is that General Ramirez has ordered us to move now."
"Instead of when?"
"Instead of tomorrow morning," Lauffer said. "I thought you readOutline Blue."
"Not that carefully."
"And under the circumstances, General Rawson feels that we should make sure the airplane will be ready. Just in case it's needed."
Clete had put on clean underwear, stockings, and a clean shirt. He stood looking at the closet where Enrico had hung up his clothing. He had his choice of a business suit or the riding breeches and boots he wore flying the Lockheed into Campo de Mayo.
"I don't think my diplomat's uniform is the appropriate uniform of the day," he thought aloud.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing," Clete said, and reached for the riding breeches.
"I don't know whether you will feel comfortable with these," Lauffer said when Clete had finishedwith a loud gruntpulling on his riding boots. "But General Ramirez said I should offer them to you."
Lauffer extended to him a blue-and-white armband, together with two safety pins and an envelope. Clete opened it. It contained a single sheet of paper:
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
Campo de Mayo
19 April 1943
Se?or Cletus Howell Frade is in the service of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Argentina, acting under the direct orders of the undersigned.
Ramirez
Teniente General Pedro P. Ramirez
Minister of War
Provisional Government of the Republic of Argentina
Rawson
General de Division Arturo Rawson
Presidente of the Governing Council
Provisional Government of the Republic of Argentina
The point of his crack about being comfortable with these is that I turned down that temporary commission.
Clete took his tweed jacket from its hanger, laid it on the bed, and pinned the blue-and-white-striped armband to it. He put it on, then looked at Lauffer.
"'Rawson's the new President, huh?"
"Until elections can be held," Lauffer said.
Or until they stand us all in front of a wall wearing blindfolds and offer us a last cigarette, right? Whichever comes first?
Enrico came into the room, wearing what apparently was the prescribed uniform for field service. This included a leather harness ringed with well-polished leather clip holders for a rifle, a well-polished molded holster for his .45, and a cavalry saber in a scabbard.
You have one of these armbands for him?" Clete asked.
Lauffer handed Enrico an armband. When it became apparent that Enrico was going to have trouble pinning it on without taking his jacket offand that meant also unstrapping his leather harness and beltClete took it from him and pinned it on for him.
"I have a car outside," Lauffer said.
"Your pistol, Se?or Cletus?" Enrico said.
"Well, we can't forget that, can we?" Clete said, and bent over and took the pistol from where he had stored it under the bed.
In a Marine Pavlovian reflex, he ejected the magazine, pulled the action back, saw that the chamber was empty, let the slide go forward, lowered the hammer, and replaced the magazine. Then he looked at the pistol.
What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Not only don't I want to shoot anybody with it, but I don't have a holster.
He remembered that Enrico often carried his pistol in the small of his back. He could not work the pistol under his waistband until he had loosened his belt.
There is a very good chance that this thing will slip down my ass, into my pants leg, and clatter noisily onto the ground. What I should do is just leave it here.
But I don't really want to do that.
Lauffer was waving him through the door.
A 1940 Chevrolet, painted in the Argentine shade of olive drab, was parked by the curb outside the building. The driver held open the door and saluted as Clete, Lauffer, and Enrico squeezed into the backseat. That was not easy, and both Enrico and Lauffer had trouble arranging their sabers.
The two soldiers with Thompsons squeezed into the front seat beside the driver.
It must be even more crowded up there with those tommy guns.
Fifty-round drum magazines, too.
I wonder if either of those kids knows how to shoot a Thompson?
Here lies Major Cletus H. Frade, USMCR, who survived Guadalcanal but died in a South American revolution when he was shot by mistake by a nervous seventeen-year-old who didn't know that unless you let go of the trigger, the Thompson will keep shooting.
The driver turned on the headlights and started off.
"Turn off the lights!" Lauffer ordered sharply.
"Why?" Clete asked as the lights faded.
"We want to mobilize with as much secrecy as possible," Lauffer said seriously, and as if the question surprised him.
Don't you think that Castillo has somebody out here with orders to report immediately when anything out of the ordinary happens?
The Chevrolet crawled to the end of the block and turned right onto a row of two-story barracks.
All the lights in the barracks were on, and soldiers were sleepily forming ranks in the street.
Clete, with effort, said nothing about lights in the barracks.
Five minutes later, they reached the airfield.
The guard detail there was under the command of a nervous infantry major who ordered everybody out of the car. He examined the interior with the aid of a flashlight, and did not seem at all happy with the document signed by the President of the Governing Council of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Argentina and his Minister of War vis-a-vis a Se?or Cletus H. Frade.