Blood and Honor (Honor Bound 2)

Commanding, USS Devil-Fish

"What do you want me to tell Frade, Bill?" Graham asked.

"What do you think? (a) Continue the investigation as a matter of the high-est priority, (b) Do not communicate to the FBI in any manner whatsoever any-thing remotely involved with the ransoming, (c) Identify the source he calls 'Cavalry.'"

"What do you think this whole thing is all about, Bill? You think it's a mat-ter of policy? And if so, why haven't we heard anything about it here in the United States?"

"I really don't know. My suspicion is that it's some sort of a private opera-tion. Some high-ranking SS sonofabitch has decided there's money to be made, personally, and is in a position to make it. Why not here? Because it's not Ger-man policy, and he doesn't want his private operation to get back to the top-level people in the SS. Or maybe they're involved, the top-level Nazis, and are worried about public opinion. I just don't know, Alex. The only thing I know is that the more we learn about this, and the quicker, the better." Graham grunted again.

"We call it 'Lindbergh,' right? And how do we classify it?" "Top Secret-Lindbergh. Eyes Only, you and me. And 1 mean that. Just you and me. We can't afford somebody with a large mouth on this one." "Right," Graham said, and stood up.

"When I go to the President with this, Alex, I want facts, not suppositions." "Right," Graham repeated, and walked out of his office.

[THREE]

Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo

Near Pila, Buenos Aires Province

1730 11 April 1943

As Clete and Rudolpho rode back to the main house, Clete's mind kept jump-ing back and forth-

I probably should not have given Outline Blue to Mart¡n before reading it thoroughly. I am, after all, an intelligence officer, and there was certainly some-thing in Outline Blue which would interest Graham. Consciously, I know everything is the OSS's business, but did I decide, unconsciously, that since the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos are not any kind of a threat to the United States, it's really none of our business. And just to satisfy Graham's idle curiosity does not justify putting Ramirez and Rawson at risk?

What the hell is Henry Mallin going to do when that Jesuit shows up at his door with Claudia and Humberto and tells him the Virgin Princess is pregnant. And who did it?

1 have to get in touch with Peter and tell him I have his father's letter and the records. I didn't tell Graham about that, either, and I know damned well the OSS would be interested in a German general who plans to assassinate Hitler.

But there are some dangerous sonsofbitches in the OSS, like the two who sent me down here hoping the Germans would kill me so that my father would be pissed off. Those two are gone, but there are probably others who would want to help assassinate Hitler, and that "help" just might get Peter's father killed. If they didn't worry about getting me killed, for the greater good, they certainly wouldn't worry about getting a German general killed. If Peter's fa-ther wanted American help, he would have asked for it.

Is marrying Dorotea really the right thing to do, presuming the Jesuit can do something? Or is marrying me going to get her killed? Her and the child she's carrying ?

What the hell is going on with this ransoming of Jews from concentration camps'? Is Ettinger onto something? Is that the reason that Nazi bastard or-dered him killed?

Maybe, if the Jesuit can fix things with Henry Mallin, and we can get mar-ried, I can send Dorotea to the States to have the baby, and to wait there until this fucking war is over. Martha would be happy to have her, and she wouldn't be in the line of fire on Big Foot Ranch.

There was something very unreal about thinking all of these thoughts while he was cantering across the pampas on a beautiful afternoon, with nothing in sight but cattle and groves of trees.

He remembered the Solomon Islands. It was beautiful and peaceful there too, at 15,000 feet over Guadalcanal. Blue sky and white clouds, with the blue ocean and the nice bright green vegetation of the island far below.

Until the first Japanese planes appeared. Then, all of a sudden, there was no more peace or beauty.

That's going to happen here, too. All of a sudden everything here is going to turn to shit, too. The difference was that in the Solomons, I was at least a pretty good Wildcat pilot. Here I didn't know shit from Shinola.

When they rode up to the house Enrico was waiting for them, sitting in one of the rattan chairs on the verandah. A nice-looking blond-haired kid, thirteen or fourteen years old, sat below him on the wide verandah steps. Each was wearing a loose, white, long-sleeved shirt, black vest, billowing black trousers, and a wide leather belt; and each had a silver-handled knife in the small of his back. Enrico also had a.45 automatic jammed inside his belt, and his shotgun was resting against one of the pillars.

There's no question in his mind that sooner or later he's going to need a gun to protect me. And he's probably right.

Jesus, why couldn't we just keep riding ? But I can't do that, any more than I could have just kept circling 15,000 feet over Guadalcanal.

The nice-looking kid rose to his feet and came off the steps.

"Buenos t

ardes, Patron," he said, reaching up to take Julius Caesar's bit.

Clete swung out of the saddle. The kid mounted Julius Caesar-who, Clete noted with some chagrin, immediately sensed an expert horseman and behaved like a lamb-and reached over to take the reins of Rudolpho's roan. Rudolpho slipped easily out of his saddle, and the kid rode toward the stables.