Clete went to the bedside and pushed the servant call button.
“You’re doing what?” Peter asked.
“I’m sending for my father.”
“I didn’t mean tonight.”
“That’s all the time we have.”
“Grüner was right?”
There was a knock at the door, so quickly that Clete was surprised. It was a maid.
“Señor Cletus?”
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“El Coronel told me to wait in the upstairs pantry in case you needed something, Señor Cletus.”
“Please tell el Coronel that I need him here immediately; that it is something you can’t do for me.”
“Sí, Señor,” the maid said, and quickly left the room.
“Grüner was right?” Peter repeated. “Clete, you don’t stand a chance.”
“I am not going to bomb anything with incendiary bombs, OK? Now leave that alone, Peter, for Christ’s sake!”
Peter met Clete’s eyes again.
“As you wish, my friend,” he said.
“What now?” el Coronel demanded as he came in the room. “Your guests will start eating the furniture.”
He saw the look on Clete’s face and stopped.
“What is it?”
“You know I owe Peter my life,” Clete said. “It’s payback time. Or partial payback time.”
“A debt of honor?” Frade asked. “What is it?”
“Peter has a letter from his father. It’s in German. He’ll have to translate it for you.”
“Let’s have the letter. I speak German. Among other things you don’t know about me, I’m a graduate of the Kriegsschule.”
Peter handed Clete’s father the letter.
When he finished reading the letter, it took el Coronel Frade a long moment
before he trusted his voice enough to speak.
“I can only hope, my friend,” he said finally, “that one day my son will have reason to be half as proud of me as you must be of your father.”
“Danke schön, Herr Oberst.”
“Perhaps you will be able to find time in your busy schedule to spend a few days at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo in the very near future. I will ask my brother-in-law, who is Managing Director of the Anglo-Argentine Bank, to join us for a private conversation.”
“That’s very kind of you, Herr Oberst.”