He dropped to his knees at the prie-dieu.
I don't want to think of you inside that casket, Dad. I've seen what happens to people when they take a load of 00-buckshot in the face.
I 'm sorry my coming here got you killed.
I'm sorry I spent most of my life thinking you were an unmitigated sonofabitch.
I feel sorry as hell for myself because I will never get to know you better.
I really hope that Enrico was right, and that you're with the angels and my mother in heaven.
And I swear to God, Dad, I'll get the sonsofbitches who did this to you.
He rose to his feet. As he did, he heard the Husares Capitan murmur another order. He looked at him. The Capitan was starting the slow-motion routine of changing from Present Arms to whatever the hell they call that head-bowed, hands-on-weapon position.
Clete snapped his right hand to his temple in a crisp salute. There was surprise and maybe displeasure in the Capitan's eyes.
Well, fuck you, Capitan. I'm an officer, you're an officer, and my father was an officer. If I want to salute, I goddamn well will salute.
He held the salute until the Capitan had rested his hands on his saber again and started to incline his head. Then he made a precise left-face movement and marched away from the casket.
The Capitan who had come aboard the seaplane, now wearing a Husares full dress uniform, and who Clete decided was probably a couple of years older than he was, stood by a door at the side of the room. He motioned to Clete, and Clete went through the door and found himself in a small room furnished with heavy, leather-upholstered furniture.
"May I offer you a small refreshment, Mayor Frade?" the Capitan asked. Sure. Why the hell not? A couple of canap?s, how about a cucumber sandwich and a deviled egg ?
The Capitan held a bottle of Johnny Walker scotch in one hand and a bottle of Martel cognac in the other.
"The cognac, por favor, Capitan," Clete said.
The snifter he was handed a moment later was half full of liquid. He had just taken a healthy swallow and was beginning to feel the warmth spread through his body when generals Ramirez and Rawson came into the room. Ramirez took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes.
"A soldier is not supposed to show emotion," Ramirez said. "But when you saluted . . ."
Well, at least he didn't disapprove. That makes me feel better.Ramirez pointed a finger at Clete's snifter, as a signal to the Capitan to get him one.
"What we will do, with your permission, Se?or Frade," Ramirez said, "is wait for the other officers to join us. Then, if you think it is appropriate, we will raise our glasses a final time in the presence of your father." "I think he would like that, mi General."
"And then I will turn you over to Capitan Lauffer, who is General Rawson's aide-de-camp," Ramirez said, inclining his head toward the Husares Capitan. "He will be with you until after the interment tomorrow. If there is anything you need that the Capitan cannot provide, please get in touch with me." "You're very kind, mi General."
"Not at all. Your father was a lifelong friend, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, how ashamed, that this terrible thing happened to him."
The small room gradually filled with the officers who had been following them around since Clete had gotten off the plane. When Capitan Lauffer had provided each of them a brandy snifter, Ramirez raised his own glass high.
"Gentlemen, I give you our late comrade-in-arms, friend, and distinguished Argentinian, el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade."
They all raised their glasses and drained themsurprising Clete, who thought they would take a small ceremonial sip. Then, apparently in order of rank, with Ramirez doing so first, they each shook Clete's hand, expressed their condolences a final time, and left the room.
"Capitan, what did you do wrong?" Clete asked Lauffer. "You seem to be stuck with me."
"It is my privilege, Se?or. I served under your father."
"Well, I think you can go home after you take me back to the house. All I'm going to do, frankly, is have another stiff drink and go to bed."
Capitan Lauffer looked uncomfortable.
"I don't think that's what you had in mind, is it?" Clete said.
"I thought perhaps you might wish to call on your aunt and uncle, Se?or."
Christ, I forgot all about them!
"La Se?ora de Duarte left here only minutes before you arrived," Lauffer said. "She asked me to tell you that she waited as long as she could, but she had an appointment with Monsignor Kelly, some final points about the Mass and interment tomorrow."
"Thank you," Clete said. "The embarrassing truth is I completely forgot about my aunt and uncle."
"Under the circumstances . . ." Lauffer said.
"And so, if you would be so kind, I would appreciate a ride over to the Avenue Alvear."
"My car is out in back," Lauffer said. "It will save you passing through the crowd in front."
I also forget Dorotea. Jesus Christ!And Tony and Dave Ettinger. And Peter. I really want to see him. And with Capitan Lauffer hanging around, how am I going to be able to?
And Jesus H. Christ! Claudia! She wasn't married to him, but if anybody feels worse about my father than I do, it's Claudia, and I didn't even think of her until just now.
[THREE]
Alvear Palace Hotel
Avenida Alvear
Buenos Aires
1930 9 April 1943
Anton von Gradny-Sawz, First Secretary of the Embassy of the German Reich to the Republic of Argentina, was wearing his heavily gold-encrusted diplomatic uniform when the top-hatted doorman pulled open the door of the Embassy's Mercedes sedan in the arcade of the hotel.
Gradny-Sawz was more than a little annoyed that he had learned only an hour before that the "distinguished personage" who had arrived on the Lufthansa Condor was Standartenf?hrer Josef Goltz. It was another instance of Ambassador von Lutzenberger not electing to tell him information he believed he was entitled to know. In this instance, it was particularly galling because he and Josef Goltz were not only old friends but had worked together in the uniting of Germanic Austria with the Reich.
He could only hope that his old friend would believe him when he said he would have been at the airport to greet him when he arrived, and to take him into his home, if only he had known he was coming.
Early on, when he was a relatively junior officer in the Foreign Ministry of the Austrian Republic, Gradny-Sawz decided that Adolf Hitler and his National Socialists were the one hope of the Deutsche Volk, and that Austria should "return" to the German fatherland.
After he had made this judgment, a visiting German officer, a Sturmbannf?hrer (SS Major) by the name of Josef Goltz, somewhat delicately brought up the subject of Austria becoming part of the Reich, and of the way this might be accomplished. Gradny-Sawz understood that this was that opportunity which comes but once in one's lifetime, and took the chance. He assured Goltz that he was in complete agreement with Adolf Hitler's plans for the German people and would do whatever he could to bring Austria into the Thousand Year Reich as soon as possible.
He had bet on the right horse, he liked to somewhat smugly think. In 1938, with not a little assistance from Anton Gradny-Sawz, the Austrian Republic fell in an almost bloodless coup d?tat, the Wehrmacht marched on Vienna, and Austria became Ostmark.
Grateful for his services, the German Foreign Ministry "absorbed" Gradny-Sawzwith a promotion and decoration "for services rendered." In January 1940, he was assigned to the Embassy in Rome as Third Secretary for Commercial Affairs. In 1941, he was assigned to Buenos Aires as First Secretary.