“That poor woman loves you. She sees her son in you. I could damned well be in her shoes. I almost was when your uncle Jim died. And if you hadn’t come back from the Pacific…”
“I’m not going to Uruguay to get away from her, if that’s what you’re driving at. This is business.”
Her eyes lit up. “What kind of business?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. And Humberto is involved in that, too?”
“In the morning, I’m going to take one of the men with me—he’s a Cuban named Max Ashton.”
“That’s a strange name for a Cuban.”
“His father was American. You’ll see him at breakfast. I have to get him out of the country without passing through immigration.”
“You mean he’s in Argentina illegally.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re involving Humberto in that?”
“He insists. And it’s not really dangerous. Ashton has a Uruguayan passport. Humberto just wants to be very careful. He figures if he’s with me, fewer questions—actually no questions—will be asked. There’s two estancias over there that now belong to me, and he’s going to have their managers meet us at the airport. And there will be somebody from a bank. All we have to do is land and put Max in a taxi.”
“Your conscience is clear involving Humberto?”
“Yeah, it’s clear. I’m an OSS agent, remember? And Humberto invited himself in, over my objections.”
“Oh, Clete, I hate all of this OSS business!”
“It would be easier on me if you didn’t know about it, but you asked.”
“Thank you ever so much, you bah-stud,” a British-accented voice called, “for calling me to tell me the good news.”
Martha and Clete looked down the corridor.
Señorita Dorotéa Mallín was walking down the corridor toward them.
She was a tall, lithe young woman with shoulder-length blond hair. Cletus Frade was not the only one who thought she was very beautiful.
Martha smiled, and shook her head. “You didn’t call her?”
He shook his head, “no.”
“You’re about as romantic as your uncle Jim.”
“You I kiss,” Dorotéa announced, kissing Martha. “Him, I may never kiss again.”
“I’m on your side, Dorotéa, honey,” Martha said. “I’d make him pay.”
“Oh, he will,” Dorotéa said. “Tomorrow, my beloved, no matter what you had planned to do, you will participate in the arrangements for the wedding. Mother’s at Estancia Santo Catalina, and Claudia has asked everybody for lunch to discuss the details. You will sit, smiling bravely, through every bloody boring minute of it.”
“Tomorrow morning, Humberto and I are going to Uruguay,” Clete said.
“Were going to Uruguay,” Dorotéa said.
“Are going to Uruguay,” Clete said.
Dorotéa met his eyes. “You sound as if it’s important,” she said.