"It's here," Frade said.
Clete rose to his feet. "Thank you," he said. "I'll be on my way."
"Do you think we could have a small talk, as officers and gentlemen?"
"We could have a shot at it. What's on your mind?"
"Enrico, leave us, please," Frade ordered.
Mi Teniente, should I put your bags in the Buick?
"Please, Enrico. I'll be right out."
Frade waited until Enrico picked up the bags and left the room. Then he checked to make sure the door was closed, and finally turned to Clete.
"You are planning to leave without greeting your aunt Beatrice and your uncle Humberto?"
Well, I thought I would avoid aa what?a possibly awkward situation."
"I see."
"And the truth is, now that I think about it, blood aside, the two of them don't really feel like my aunt and uncle. They're just two nice people I feel sorry for because they lost their son. I just met them; I hardly know them."
"I had trouble with that too," Frade said.
"With what?"
"Realizing, blood aside, that you are really my son. A flesh-and-blood creature ... not a dream."
Clete could think of no reply to make.
"After you arrived yesterday," Frade said, "Enrico came to see me. He told me that honor requires that he leave my service."
"I had nothing to do with that," Clete said.
"Enrico left Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo to enlist in the Army shortly before I was to be commissioned. That way he could complete his training by the time I became an officer, and he could be my batman."
"Your what?"
"My personal servant. Officers in the Corps of Marines do not have servants?"
"No, we don't," Clete said, chuckling. "I thought he was a Suboficial Mayor?"
"He was, of course, much more than a servant. As long as I can remember, back to when we were boys on the estancia, he has been my friend. So I saw to it that he became a soldier, not a servant in uniform. He ultimately became a Suboficial Mayor, and a very good one."
"I understand, I think."
"When I retired from the Army, he retired with me. And when he came to me yesterday and told me he must leave my service, I told him to do what he wished, but that he was never to visit San Pedro y San Pablo again, after today."
"You're a real friend, Dad," Clete said, angrily sarcastic. "I'd hate to think how you treat people you don't like."
His father did not reply, but Clete saw the immense pain in his eyes.
"I'll talk to him, try to patch it up between you," Clete said. "If that's what you want me to do."
"Thank you, but that will be unnecessary," Frade said.
"Your pride, of course, your Argentinean pride, won't permit you to do that, right?"
"I will go to him and beg his pardon. But before that, I wanted to come to you ..."
"You don't need my permission to talk to Enrico."
"... to ask your pardon as well, and to tell you that I will do whatever I can to help you against the Germans."
That's a switch. A one-eighty-degree turn. What brought that about?
"Because of what they did to Se?ora Pellano?"
"Partly, and partly because you are my son and need my help."
I'll be damned,Clete thought as he felt his throat tighten painfully, he means that.
"Before the funeral, I called el Almirante de Montoya, the Chief of the Bureau of Internal Security, and told him that the price of your expulsion from Argentina would be the loss of my friendship," Frade said. "He told me I was a fooland I have known him since we were at the universitybut you will not be expelled."
"Thank you," Clete said.
"You are determined to go through with whatever it is you intend to do to the German ship?"
"I intend to carry out my orders."
Frade shook his head, started to say something, stopped, and then said, "Presumably you have a plan?"
Clete's hesitation was evident.
"You don't know if you can trust me?" his father asked. "Is that it?"
Clete's face gave him his answer.
"No matter what you think of me personally, Cletus, I am a man of honor. Would you take my word as an officer and a gentleman that I am prepared to help you?"
I'm not sure.
But my only other option is the vague hope that the destroyer will have radios capable of communicating with Colonel Graham in the States, and that they will give me access to them.
"I don't have a plan," Clete said. And when he saw his father's face, he added, "Really, I don't. I'm not just saying that."
"But I don't understand."
"Harming the Reine de la Mer is impossible with what they have given me to work with."
"Which is?"
"A radio expert and an explosives expert. And a small quantity of explosives. Even if we could get to the Reine de la Mer"
"You have explosives?" his father interrupted him. "Where?"
"About twenty pounds, ten kilos. In the Guest House."
"You had explosives. If they were in the Guest House, Martin found them. He's very good at his job, and I'm sure he thoroughly searched the house when you were in the hospital. And if he didn't mention to me that he found them, then he has them. He will be cooperative, but only to a point."
"They're there. I checked. I was at the Guest House before I came here."
"Then I'm wrong. El Coronel Martin closed his eyes."
"No. I'm sure he didn't know what he was looking at. It's a new kind of explosive, called C4. You can mold it like putty. What I have looks like pieces of a wooden crate."
"Apparently, you too are very good at your job."
There is no way to get close to the Reine de la Mer. She has floodlights, .50-caliber machine guns, and I think a couple of twenty-millimeter automatic cannon. And even if we somehow could get to her and attach the explosives, I don't think we have enough C4 to do real damage."
His father looked thoughtful, as if considering the problem.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I don't have any other options.
"And that isn't the only problem," Clete went on. "When I tried to explain to the OSS man here, my commanding officer, so to speak ..."
"Mr. Nestor, of the Banco de Boston," his father said. "El Coronel Martin told me who he is."
Acknowledging that would be admitting he's right, and I don't want to do that. I guess I don't trust him.
"... when I told him I could see of no way to carry out my orders, I was relieved."
Relieved? his father asked, and his face lit up.
"He as much as accused me of cowardice."
"Cowardice?"
"Cowardice."
"But you've already proven your courage. In the war in the Pacific, and at the Guest House."
Clete met his father's eyes and shrugged, then went on:
"The destroyer may have the ability to communicate with the United States. If it does, then I'll try to go aboard. If they will let me use their radio, I'll try to get in touch with the man who sent me down here and give him my side of the story."
"And if that is impossible? I believe the radios of warships are put under a seal when they enter our waters."