Frade slowly looked around the table. Father Welner appeared both curious and amused. Claudia Carzino-Cormano could have been angry or sad, or both. When he looked at Captain Delgano, Delgano was shaking his head in either surprise—even shock—or amusement. Ernesto Dowling looked quietly furious. And when he returned his gaze to Perón, he saw that Perón was looking at him very thoughtfully.
“As a practical matter, of course,” Frade went on, “I am delighted to defer to the greater expertise of every member of the board. But I thought it important that all of you understand where I stand.”
There was no response.
“Cletus, I’m impressed,” Father Welner said. “Where did you get that mastery of procedure?”
Frade saw that Perón was waiting with interest for his answer.
“From my grandfather. I watched him conduct meetings of Howell Petroleum. He’s the majority stockholder.” He paused. Then, without thinking first, added: “He once told his board that they should keep in mind they were window dressing, nothing more.”
Humberto Duarte and Ernesto Dowling looked almost as shocked as Claudia Carzino-Cormano.
Father Welner smiled. “He actually said that to his board, Cletus?”
“I believe it, Father,” Perón said. “I know Señor Howell. He is a . . . formidable . . . man.”
“So Jorge led me to believe,” the priest said dryly.
Frade looked at him and thought, You’re a slippery sonofabitch, Welner.
From that answer neither Dowling nor Delgano would suspect that my father and my grandfather loathed and detested each other.
And that you damn well know it.
“But I was just thinking,” Perón went on, “that there’s blood in here, too.”
Now what the hell are you talking about?
“Excuse me?” Claudia said.
“Not only of his grandfather,” Perón explained, “but of his father. Look at him standing there, Claudia, his eyes blazing, his chin thrust forward, his hands on his hips, just daring someone—anyone—to challenge his authority. That doesn’t remind you of Jorge?”
She looked and, after a moment, she nodded.
“Yes, it does,” she said. “I often told Jorge he was the most arrogant man I’d ever known.”
“It is arrogance, my dear Claudia, born of confidence,” Perón said. “And I, for one, applaud it.”
Claudia glared at him, whereupon Perón put action to his words: He began to applaud. Duarte and Dowling looked at him incredulously.
Then Father Welner, smiling, clapped his hands, and, a moment later, Delgano followed. Then without much enthusiasm Duarte and Dowling joined in, and finally Claudia, with no enthusiasm at all.
I will be goddamned! Frade thought, then cut short the applause by gesturing toward Dowling and announcing, “To the business at hand. If you please, señor?”
“Well, you heard me read the radiogram we got—actually Seguro Comercial got—last night from Lloyd’s of London—”
“It should be read into the minutes,” Frade interrupted, “but before you do that, tell me this: Did Seguro Comercial send a letter when they sent you that cable? If so, that should be read into the record, too.”
“What actually happened, Señor Frade, is that the radiogram was delivered to me when it arrived at Seguro Comercial last night.”
“That sounds a little odd,” Frade said. “Why would they do that?”
“I also represent Seguro Comercial, Señor Frade. I thought you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t,” Frade snapped. “How can you represent the both of us? It seems to me you have to be either our lawyer or theirs.”
“Is there some reason I cannot be both?”
“Yeah, there is. Whose side are you going to be on if we take them to court?”
“ ‘Take them to court’?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Frade said, “but we went to them for insurance. And they sold us insurance. We wrote them a very large check. Deal done. Right?”
“That was before they heard from Lloyd’s of London, of course,” Dowling said. “That obviously changes things.”
“Not for me. Not for SAA. Seguro Comercial sold us insurance; therefore, we’re insured. If Seguro Comercial can’t reinsure, that’s their problem, not ours. If they try to get out of our deal, so far as I’m concerned, it’s breach of contract, and we’ll take them to court.”
“Let me try to explain this to you, Señor Frade,” Dowling said, tight-lipped. “We purchased ninety days’ coverage, with the understanding that the price would be renegotiated before the ninety days were up and the contract extended—”
“I wondered about that,” Frade interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“I saw the contract. It was for fourteen aircraft. We have four, and when the ninety-day period is up, we may have eight or ten. But not fourteen. So why are we paying to insure either four or six airplanes we don’t have? I sent Señor Duarte a note asking that question.”
Dowling did not reply.
Frade turned to Duarte. “Humberto, did you raise the question with Señor Dowling?”
Duarte nodded, and looked at Dowling. “I sent you a memorandum asking about that, Ernesto.”
Frade said, “So what did Seguro Comercial say when you asked them, Señor Dowling?”
“I was planning to bring up the matter at renegotiation time,” Dowling said, more than a little lamely.
“Señor Dowling,” Frade went on, “did you not recognize that there was a flaw in the contract you negotiated between your two employers?”
“I take offense at that, Señor Frade.”
“About ninety seconds ago, Señor Dowling, I was going to offer you the choice between working for SAA or Seguro Comercial. But not now.”
“Cletus!” Claudia said warningly.
“What exactly does that mean?” Dowling asked.
“It means that thirty seconds ago, I decided that I don’t want you working for SAA. Your employment is terminated as of now.”
“You can’t do that, Cletus!” Claudia said furiously.
“Yes, I can. And I just did.” Frade looked at Dowling. “Good evening, señor.”
Dowling stuffed the Mackay Radiogram back in his briefcase and looked at Duarte.
“Cletus . . .” Duarte said.
“Good evening, Señor Dowling,” Frade repeated.
Dowling, white-lipped and with his dignity visibly injured, walked out of the conference room.
When there was the sound of the outer door closing, Duarte said, “Cletus, that was a serious mistake. Ernesto and I have been friends for years. We were at school togeth—”
“The matter is closed,” Frade interrupted icily.
“You’re out of control, Cletus!” Claudia said. “You simply can’t do things like that.”
“Will you take my word, Claudia, that I can, or are we going to have to go to the stockholders?”
“You went too far, much too far,” Duarte said. “Things just aren’t done that way in Argentina.”
“And that’s what’s wrong with Argentina,” El Coronel Juan Domingo Perón said.
Frade looked at him.
What the hell is this?
“Excuse me?” Claudia asked.
“I said that’s wrong with Argentina,” Perón said. “We do business with people we knew at school, and wink-wink when the rules are bent or broken. What we need here is what Cletus just demonstrated: an ability to see things as they are, even when that’s uncomfortable, and then to make the necessary corrections without regard to personal feelings.”
“I don’t know what to say, frankly, Juan Domingo,” Duarte said.
“Then say nothing, Humberto,” Perón said, coldly angry. “Or perhaps, ‘Thank you, Cletus.’ ”
“Thank him for insulting a man who not only is a close personal friend but one of the most respected members of the bar?”
Perón looked at Duarte a long moment with an expression that Frade thought could have bordered on contempt, then said: “If he’s one of the most respected members of the bar, I shudder for the legal system of Argentina. Good God, Humberto. Didn’t you hear what was said? Ostensibly as our attorney he said nothing when Seguro Comercial, whose attorney he also is, took our money to insure aircraft that we don’t even have. Did you hear that or not?”