The odds that a second run over the Reine de la Mer would not be necessary were, in Lieutenant Frade's judgment, approximately one hundred to one.
His reasoning was that even with the Reine de la Mer in plain sight, permitting a perfect overtarget run, he would have absolutely no idea, when they began their descent, how the slipstream and other factors like winds aloft would affect the flares' position in relation to the Reine de la Mer, and thus how they were illuminating it.
The illumination pattern could of course be perfect for the torpedo aimer in the submarine. This was highly unlikely, but possible.
At this point, there entered another messy question: Would the submarine be in position to fire its torpedoes once the target was bathed in the light of the magnesium flares?
Submarines firing torpedoes are not like warships firing their cannon, or hunters shooting ducks. Cannons can be traversed, moved from side to side, just as a hunter can turn to move his shotgun. But torpedoes fire in a straight line in the direction the submarine is pointed. While it is possible to adjust the course of a torpedoturning it left or right off a dead-ahead coursethat can only be adjusted so much.
Presuming the submarine got a good look at the Reine de la Mer in the light of the first flare run, it was very probable that it would be necessary to move the direction of her bow ten, twenty, maybe thirty degrees to the right or left.
But when the flare run began, the Devil Fish would not be moving. Or if it was moving, it would only be just fast enough to maintain steering way. Turning would take time, more time than the duration of the flare burn.
And after the first flare run, meanwhile, the crew of the Reine de la Mer would not only be alerted but would have time to man the heavy machine guns and the Bofors cannonif they weren't already manned.
And there would be enough light from the first-run flares to illuminate the Beechcraft. When the second flare run started, the Reine de la Mer would be prepared for it.
It was unpleasant enough to dwell upon what heavy machine bullets would do to the fuselage, wings, and gas tanks of the Beechcraft without considering what would happen inside the aircraft if 40-mm exploding projectiles struck it and sympathetically detonated Tony's homemade (quarter-inch cotton rope impregnated with nitroglycerine) primercord, and thus set off a dozen flares.
"Well, what the hell, Clete," Tony said. "It will be a spectacular way to go."
[FIVE]
Maria-Teresa's father almost ran to greet Tony when he stepped inside the Ristorante Napoli; and he treated Tony like royalty when he bowed and scraped him to a table.
"I'm profoundly sorry, Se?or Pelosi, that Maria-Teresa is away at the moment," Se?or Alberghoni announced in a rush to Tony, once he was seated. She certainly would have been here for you if she had known you were coming. But she has gone to confession at the Church of San Juan Evangelista. That's not far away, as you know. She'll certainly return shortly, and she'll be delighted to see you. And remorseful that she was not here when you were kind enough to call at the restaurant.
"In the meantime, would Se?or Pelosi like a glass of wine and a little something to eat?"
The "Se?or Pelosi" business made Tony uncomfortable, and so did the bowing and the scraping, but that wasn't as bad as when Maria-Teresa's father wept and kissed his hands after Maria-Teresa gave him the paid-off mortgage.
"Grazie," Tony said. "I'd like a glass of wine." Half a bottle of vino tinto and a huge platter of vermicelli with a mushroom-tomato sauce later, Maria-Teresa still hadn't shown up. So Tony decided to walk over to San Juan Evangelista and wait for her. He didn't want to say what he had to say to her with her father hanging over him anyway. Maybe he would meet her on the street.
But he didn't meet her on the street. And when he went inside the baroque church, he didn't see her there either. Maybe she took a back alley or something on her way back to the ristorante.
A priest was sitting outside one of the confession stalls. It wasn't that way at home. When you went to confession there, you couldn't see the priest. Maybe you could recognize his voice, or he could recognize yours; but you couldn't see him and he couldn't see you.
What the hell, he doesn't know who I am.
He entered the confession stall and dropped to his knees.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
"Habla espanol? Italiano?"
Tony switched to Italian.
Aside from not going to mass, the only sin he could think of was one that had been troubling him since he was thirteen years old.
"Father, I have been having impure thoughts. About a specific girl."
Priestly interrogation brought out that he had also been guilty of the sin of Onanism in connection with his impure thoughts about the specific girl. He received a brief lecture on forcing impure thoughts from his mind and the harm that self-abuse inflicts on the body and the soul; and then he was given absolution and a relatively minor penance.
He left the confession stall and dropped to his knees before a larger than life-size statue of Saint John the Baptist, lit a votive candle, and asked God to make it easy for his mother and his father and his brothers to understand if he didn't come through the business with the Reine de la Mer. And he asked Him not to let them mourn so badly. And then he stood up.
When he turned around, he saw Maria-Teresa standing by one of the enormous pillars. Her head was covered with a shawl.
Jesus Christ, she's beautiful!
"I saw you come in," she said.
"I was looking for you."
"What are you doing here?"
"I told you, I was looking for you. Then I went to confession."
"I thought you would come," Maria-Teresa said. "But not here."
"Excuse me?"
"What do you want, Anthony?"
"I want to talk to you for a minute. Can we go get a cup of coffee or something?"
"To the ristorante?"
"Not to the ristorante."
"There is a caf? near here."
He took her arm on the street. She didn't shrug it away, but she didn't seem to like it much, either.
They took a tiny table in a small, crowded cafe, and a waiter came and took their order. Tony was going to order coffee, but changed his mind and asked for a glass of vino tinto. He asked Maria-Teresa if she wanted a cake or a dish of ice cream or something, but she said no thank you, all she wanted was coffee.
"Do you want me to come with you, Anthony?" Maria-Teresa asked.
"Come with me where?"
She shrugged. He understood.
"Jesus Christ, no! Nothing like that."
"Then what do you want?"
He reached inside his jacket, came up with an envelope, and handed it to her.
2ndLt A.J. Pelosi, 0-538677, CE
Army Detachment
Office of Strategic Services
National Institutes of Health Building
Washington, D.C.
Military Attach?
U.S. Embassy
Buenos Aires
Argentina
'What's this?"
'If you don't see me again in a week," Tony said, "I want you to take that to the U.S. Embassy. You know where that is?"
Maria-Teresa shook her head no.
"What is this?"