"You look like a recruiting poster," he said. " 'Join the Airborne and see the World.'"
Tony did not react well to what Clete hoped would be a joke.
"I thought wearing my uniform was the right thing to do," he said. "And when I saw those fucking Krauts downstairs in theirs, I was glad I did. Sorry, if you think that was wrong."
"It was the right thing to do, Tony. My father would have appreciated you wearing your uniform, and I do."
"OK," Tony said, accepting what he recognized as an apology, then moving to what was on his mind: "The Ambassador got a SECRET cable last night saying that Lieutenant Commander Frederico J. Delojo, the new Naval Attach?, would be on the Pan American flight today. You want to tell what that's all about?"
"How did you get access to a SECRET addressed to the Ambassador?"
"I seduced one of the crypto guys," Tony said. "A real feather merchant from Iowa or someplace like that. Buck sergeant."
"'Seduced'?Or 'corrupted'?" Clete interrupted, smiling.
"Whatever. I showed him my OSS ID. He practically pissed in his pants. Anything you want to know about cable or radio traffic to the Embassy, just ask me."
"And you're not worried he'll tell anybody you . . . seduced him?"
"I told him we shoot people who identify OSS agents," Tony said. "And he believes me."
"Maybe we can make a spy out of you yet, Tony," Clete said.
Tony flushed with Clete's approval.
"You going to tell me about Commander Delojo? You were supposed to be the Naval Attach?. What's going on?"
"Not here, Tony," Clete said. "You remember where my father's house is?"
Tony nodded.
"OK. Give me twenty minutes to get out of here. I'll catch a taxi over there"
"Your Buick is here, Se?or Clete," Enrico interrupted.
"You had it brought here?" Clete asked, surprised. "Why?"
"It attracts less attention to carry a shotgun in a private car than in a taxi, Se?or Clete."
"So it does," Clete said, smiling. "It's in the basement?"
S?, Se?or Clete."
"OK. Tony, anytime in the next twenty minutes, go down to the garage in the basement. I'll make an appearance downstairs, and meet you there."
After Tony realized that Enrico was hurt worse than he was willing to admit, he finally persuaded him to take the front passenger seat in the Buick, but only after he argued that using the shotgun from there would be easier than from the back, if using it became necessary.
Clete came to the garage a half hour later, having taken longer to do his manners in the reception than he imagined. The exit from the basement garage let them out behind the house, on Avenida Posadas, and they were thus able to avoid the crowd still on Avenida Alvear.
When he adjusted the rearview mirror, Clete noticed a car, an English Ford, called an "Anglia," pull away from the curb and follow them. When he reached Avenida del Libertador and turned left, the Anglia was still on his tail. There was no question they were being followed.
He considered, and immediately dismissed, the idea that it might be another set of German-sent assassins. There hadn't been time to plan something like that, and he didn't think even the Germans would try to kill the son on the same day he buried his father!
But who is trailing me? And why? To keep track of my movements, or to protect me ?
The route to the Avenida Coronel Diaz took them past the residence of the Ambassador of the United States of America to the Argentine Republic. The American flag flew over the four-story mansion, whose grounds took in most of the block.
Primarily to keep Enrico from finding out they were being trailed God only knows how he would reactClete leaned across him and pointed out the statue of George Washington in the park across from the Ambassador's residence.
"George Washington, Tony. You ever see that before?"
"Yeah," Tony replied without much interest.
"He had bad teeth," Clete announced.
"What?"
"While I was futzing around Washington, I drove over to Mount Vernon," Clete said. "They've got his false teeth on display. They're wood. Jesus, he probably couldn't eat anything but mush."
"No shit?"
"If they had shown me those wooden choppers when I was a kid, they wouldn't have any trouble getting me to brush my teeth."
"Between bullshit lectures on how I was supposed to behave 'as a member of the diplomatic community' and that crypto class at Camp A. P. Hill, I didn't have any time in Washington to do anything but piss and brush my teeth," Tony said.
Clete laughed.
"Wooden teeth, Se?or Clete?" Enrico asked in disbelief.
"Wooden teeth, Enrico," Clete said.
The Anglia stayed with them until they turned into the drive of the house on Avenida Coronel Diaz, when it drove slightly past the house and pulled to the curb.
I will have to keep in mind that Enrico didn't spot that car. Hes good, but he's not perfect.
[TWO]
1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz
Palermo, Buenos Aires
1545 10 April 1943
Tony looked around in exaggerated awe as they passed through the hotel-size foyer of the Frade mansion.
"You're going to live here? Won't you be a little cramped for space?"
"I'd like to move back into the house on Libertador, but there's a colonel named Per?n staying there."
"Who's he?"
"My father's best friend. He just came back from Germany."
"What was he doing in Germany?"
"I have no idea," Clete said, "but he told me he finds it impossible to believe the Germans were involved in my father's assassination."
"Oh, shit!" Tony said. "Clete, my back teeth are floating."
"Over there," Clete said, stopping on the first step of the stairs to the second floor and pointing. "Unless you can wait until we get upstairs?"
"Over there will do very nicely, thank you very much, Major, Sir," Tony said, and walked quickly to the restroom.
Enrico touched Clete's arm.
"Se?or Clete, we are being followed by the clowns. One of their cars, an Anglia, followed us from Avenida Alvear."
"You didn't say anything."
"We don't have to worry about the clowns any longer, Se?or Clete. El Coronel Mart?n is now one of us," Enrico said, and then asked, "You did not notice that we were being followed?"
Clete shook his head, "no."
"You must be on the lookout for such things," Enrico said. "A car following you may not be a clown car."
"You're right."
Tony came out of the restroom a moment later, a look of satisfaction on his face, and the three of them continued up the stairs.
Once they were in his bedroom, Clete rang for a maid, ordered drinks and something to nibble on, then changed out of his suit and into a pair of khakis.
"OK," he said, walking back into the sitting from his bedroom to find Tony drinking from the neck of a bottle of Quilmes beer. "I feel better. I really wanted to get out of that suit."
He spotted a silver wine cooler filled with ice and beer and took one, dismissing the maid's offer of a glass, and the maid herself, with a smile and a waved hand.
He slumped into an armchair facing Tony.
"How was your leave?" Clete asked, taking a sip of his beer.
"We came all the way over here to talk about my leave?"