“What did I do, Humberto? Interrupt your lunch?”
“Where the hell are you?” Humberto began, and then before Frade could possibly reply, went on, “No one knew where you were.”
“And you thought I had crashed? I’m touched by your concern.”
“I didn’t know what to think. El Coronel Martín has been looking all over for you.”
“He does like to keep an eye on me, doesn’t he?”
“Cletus, for God’s sake, can’t you ever be serious? Martín said he has to see you as quickly as possible. He said it was very likely a matter of life or death.”
The tone of Frade’s voice changed. He now was serious.
“That’s interesting. He say whose life?”
“Does it matter, for God’s sake? Martín is a serious man. What in the world have you done now?”
“This is what I need you to do, Humberto. And it’s not open for debate . . .”
“My God!”
“I want you to call President Rawson . . .”
“The president?”
“Are there two of them?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I haven’t so much as sniffed a cork,” Frade said. “Tell el General that I would be very pleased if he, and such members of his staff as he sees fit, would have a glass of champagne with me at five o’clock this afternoon at Aeropuerto Coronel Jorge G. Frade.”
“What?”
“I think you heard me, Humberto. If he shows reluctance, insist. If he’s really reluctant, go so far as to remind him that he told me if there was anything I ever wanted from him, all I had to do was ask. Just get him there, Humberto.”
“What the hell are you up to? You really haven’t been drinking?”
“Boy Scout’s Honor, I haven’t had a drop in four days.”
“I asked what this is all about, Cletus,” Duarte said as sternly as he could manage.
“Take him up in the control tower. Have him there at five,” Frade said, ignoring the question. “And once he’s agreed to be there, get on the horn, call Claudia and tell her to be there, too—with both daughters, if possible, and von Wachtstein. And Father Welner. I suppose I’d better ask my beloved Tío Juan. I’d hate to hurt his feelings for not getting invited. And call my beloved father-in-law, speaking of people who don’t like me. Get him out there, too. The more the merrier, in other words. Oh, hell! And call el Coronel Martín, too. And you better call La Nación, La Prensa, and the Herald, too. And tell them where el Presidente is going to be at five.”
“Cletus, you listen to me,” Duarte said sternly. “I’m not going to do any of this until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Just goddamn do it, Humberto. It’s really important.”
“I said no.”
“And I said have everybody at the field at five o’clock. Just do it, goddamn it!”
There was a click, and Duarte realized that Cletus had hung up.
He took the handset from his ear and looked at it for a moment. Then he slowly replaced it in the base. He stared at that for a very long moment, exhaled audibly, then reached for the handset.
When his secretary came on the line, he said, “Call the Casa Rosada, please, and tell whoever answers the phone in the president’s office that I am calling on behalf of Don Cletus Frade.”
[TWO]