"Germany will make them a better deal. They really will need crude. And so will the Japs. They'll sell them an equivalent washing machine, or automo-bile, for less than we will."
"So where does that leave us?"
"Out in the cold, unless we get in on the ground floor when the Argentines start developing their oil fields. If we get in on exploration and production first, we can take a percentage of whatever they produce. So we're back to where this conversation started. It will behoove you, Cletus, to pay attention to Henry Mal-lin. He could be very important to us."
"I'm going down there as a Marine, as the Assistant Naval Attach‚, not to cut an oil deal."
"Funny, you always struck me as being smart enough to walk and chew gum at the same time. All I'm asking you to do is be nice to Henry Mallin for our own selfish purposes."
"I give you my word as an officer and gentleman by act of Congress that I will be the essence of charm and goodwill toward Enrico Mallin."
If not for the reasons you want me to.
The Old Man looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.
"This boiled cat isn't as bad as it smells, is it?"
"Not if you wash it down with enough of the vinegar."
"You go easy on the vino when you get down there, Cletus. And I don't want you earning any more medals. You've done your fair share in this war, and then some. Let somebody else do their share. You just go out-what did you say?-on the canap‚-and-idle-conversation circuit and sit out the rest of the war. I want you back in one piece. I want a male great-grandchild."
"Well, I could start to work on that the minute I get down there. I have seen-"
"I'm not so foolish as to try to tell you to keep your pecker in your pocket. But carry on with somebody you won't have to marry if you get her in the fam-ily way. One Argentine in-law in my lifetime has been more than enough."
"If it wasn't for my father, I wouldn't be sitting here with you."
"Possibly not, but your mother, may she rest in peace, would be. She could have had her pick of any one of-"
"Strange," Clete interrupted the Old Man, "but I seem to recall hearing all this before."
"All right," the Old Man said. "Just don't write me a letter and tell me you've found some female down there you want to marry."
"That's highly improbable."
"It better be impossible," the Old Man snapped, and then suddenly his en-tire aura changed. He looked old and vulnerable, not delightfully feisty.
"Clete, if there is one thing that would break my heart, kill me, it would be if you were to get seriously involved down there. It would kill me if you mar-ried an Argentine. Your mother did that, and look what happened to her."
"I have no plans to marry anybody in Argentina," Clete said.
That is the truth. I would like to, but it's simply out of the question.
"Don't change your mind," the Old Man snapped, his feistiness returning as quickly as it left. "That's a hell of a long airplane ride for an old man to take with a bullwhip to beat some sense into you. Which I assure you I would do."
Clete shook his head. "I'm terrified," he said.
He sensed that he would remember the old man's momentary vulnerability for a long time, perhaps forever.
What the hell's the matter with me? The question is moot. It is because I love her that I can't marry her. The worst thing I could do to her, in my line of work, is marry her. Make her pregnant. Leaving her a widow with an American child would be a hell of a lot more rotten thing to do than what my father did to my mother.
Chapter Three
[ONE]
3470 St. Charles Avenue
New Orleans, Louisiana