Empire and Honor (Honor Bound 7)

Frade smiled, thinking, Well, the shallow boy just cut the sophisticated lady off at the knees, didn’t he?

Marjorie, face flushed, was literally speechless.

Major Habanzo walked up to them.

“Don Cletus, General Martín will want to know if . . . if what he was looking for was on the plane.”

“It was. Major Habanzo, this is Subteniente Cronley, the . . . officer courier”—Marjorie, put that “officer courier” in your pipe and smoke it—“who brought it. And some other things that will be of interest to the general.”

“Teniente,” Habanzo said to Jimmy, and put out his hand.

Cronley saluted, and said, “A sus órdenes, mi Mayor,” before shaking it.

Marjie didn’t miss any of that either.

“How do we get the general and this material together?” Frade asked.

“The general has suggested that, presuming what he hoped would be on the airplane was, that he could be at your Libertador house by the time you get there if I called him, and if that would be convenient.”

“Call h

im, please,” Frade said. “Martha, I’ll have to ride with Jimmy in one of the station wagons.”

“I was hoping he could ride with us. I want to ask him what he’s been up to.”

“No, you don’t, Martha. Even if he could tell you, you don’t want to know.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Frade nodded.

“We’ll see you at the house. Let’s go, Jimmy.”

[SIX]

4730 Avenida Libertador General San Martín

Buenos Aires, Argentina

1345 20 October 1945

“Don Cletus, Captain von Dattenberg and Señora von Wachtstein are in the garage,” Antonio the butler announced.

Jimmy Cronley looked up with interest.

“Well, that’s everybody then,” Frade said. “I’d say we should go in the library, but I suspect we’re going to need this table.”

Everyone was still seated around the enormous dining room table where they had just had lunch. Clete had decided to wait until von Dattenberg could drive in from Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo before getting into the business at hand, so that everybody would be present.

“Antonio, would you have someone clear the table, and bring coffee?”

“Sí, Don Cletus.”

“Show Captain von Dattenberg in here, please, Antonio. Hold the lady in the foyer, where the other ladies and—I’m sorry, Grandfather—Señor Howell will join them.”

“I’m going to sit in on this, Cletus,” Dorotea announced.

“I think I will, too,” the old man announced.