Honor Bound (Honor Bound 1)

Clete watched them go, exhaled audibly, and said softly, “A Dios, Cousin Jorge. Vaya con Dios.” And then turned and walked in the opposite direction.

I don’t have to watch the end of this. And I certainly don’t want to go back to the house and face Uncle Humberto’s sad eyes again. Or the Virgin Princess…Did she really just tell me she loves me?

I will find the Buick and drive back to the house.

And write a message that will be the sort of thing the skipper of a U.S. Navy destroyer might accept as genuine and that will convince Colonel Graham that letting me have a TBF is the only way I can take out the Reine de la Mer.

[FOUR]

4730 Avenida Libertador

Buenos Aires

1420 19 December 1942

Clete entered the house via the kitchen, after parking the car in the basement garage.

He was a little surprised that Señora Pellano did not show up in the basement to silently chide him for opening the garage door himself, until he remembered that she was at the Big House. He was surprised again that none of the maids appeared in the kitchen while he prepared a wine cooler with two trays of ice from the refrigerator, then stuffed it with bottles of beer.

But one did appear as he was trying without much success to open the sliding elevator door with his elbow. His hands were occupied with the wine cooler and the necks of two additional bottles of beer he was taking upstairs now so he wouldn’t have to come back for them later.

She slid the door open for him.

“Gracias,” he said. “And could you please fix me a sandwich? Ham and cheese and tomato? Something like that?”

“Sí, Señor Cletus,” she said, wrestling the wine cooler away from him. “Señor, there are two norteamericanos waiting for you in the library.”

“Who are they? Did you get their names?”

“No, Señor Cletus,” she said, as if this caused her great sorrow.

When he pushed open the door to the library, Second Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi and Staff Sergeant David G. Ettinger, both neatly dressed in seersucker suits, quickly rose to their feet.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Tony said formally.

“Tony. David. To what do I owe the honor? Can I offer you a beer?”

“No, thank you, Sir,” Tony said, and then, “Clete, I met Mr. Nestor.”

“How did that happen?”

“Dave brought him to the apartment and introduced him.”

“You’re talking about Mr. Nestor of the Bank of Boston?”

“I know he’s the OSS Station Chief,” Tony said.

“He told you that?” Clete asked, looking at Ettinger for confirmation. Ettinger nodded, just perceptibly.

“And he also gave a line of bullshit that you have proved yourself…What did he say, Dave?”

“Unsuitable,” Ettinger furnished.

“Unsuitable for the mission, and that he is now relying on me to carry it out. Real bullshit speech. Like in the movie where Pat O’Brien played Knute Rockne, and whatsisname, Ronald Reagan, played the football player.” He stopped, then looked at Clete. “What’s going on, Lieutenant?” Tony asked.

“I found the Reine de la Mer,” Clete said. “That’s the German replenishment ship.”

“So did Ettinger,” Tony said. “He told me on the way over here.”