Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

“That of course, would have to be taken into account, Alejandro, by a wise officer—such as yourself—who understands the value of discretion,” Perón said charmingly. “But I really wish you would call me Juan Domingo.”

“I will be honored, Juan Domingo. Thank you.”

“Juan Domingo is calling, Alejandro, not the Special Assistant to the Minister for War.”

“And how may I help you, Juan Domingo?”

“I have a small problem that you might possibly help me with.”

“Whatever I can do, Juan Domingo.”

“I can’t imagine that the BIS would have Señor Cletus Frade under surveillance, Alejandro, but I really have to get in touch with him, and I thought perhaps that—perhaps you heard something over a cup of coffee—you might have an idea where he is.”

“Oddly enough, Juan Domingo, just a few minutes ago, while I was having a cup of coffee, I did hear something about Señor Frade. He and Señora Frade were seen on the highway from Mar del Plata not more than an hour ago.”

“If you had to guess, Alejandro, were they headed for Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo?”

“No, Sir, it was this side of Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. If I had to guess, I would guess that Señor and Señora Frade are coming to the city.”

“I tried both the estancia and Llao Llao,” Perón said—referring to a luxury hotel in San Carlos de Bariloche.

“I believe the story that the Frades were going to Llao Llao on their wedding trip was a diversionary maneuver, Juan Domingo.”

“I can understand that. A man is entitled to be left alone on his honeymoon.”

“My mother-in-law couldn’t seem to understand that, Juan Domingo.”

Perón laughed appreciatively.

“I would say, Juan Domingo—just a guess, you understand—that you could probably reach Señor Frade in about an hour at his home on Coronel Díaz, or at the home of Señor Mallín.”

“Not at the Frade guest house?” Perón asked.

“I think they would go to either Señora Mallín de Frade’s family home, or to the house on Coronel Díaz.”

“I have the Coronel Díaz number. You wouldn’t happen to have the Mallín number?”

“I think I’ve got it here somewhere, Juan Domingo,” Martín said, and a moment later furnished it. Perón carefully added it to the correct page in his address book.

“You have been very obliging, Alejandro,” Perón said.

“It has been my pleasure to be of some small service.”

“I’ll call one day next week, and if you can find the time, we’ll have lunch.”

“That would be delightful.”

“Thank you again, Alejandro,” Perón said, and hung up.

He swung his legs out of bed and telephoned both numbers, leaving the same message at each: He would be grateful if Señor and Señora Frade would take dinner with him tonight, that he would call back in an hour to confirm the details.

He hung up, and sat thoughtfully for a moment. He was pleased that he had finally thought of calling Martín. He should have thought of that before wasting time calling the estancia and Llao Llao.

He consulted his address book again and dialed a number. “Generalmajor von Deitzberg, por favor. Coronel Perón of the Ministry for War is calling.”

Von Deitzberg came on the line a moment later. “Buenas tardes, Juan Domingo. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Likewise, Manfred,” Perón said. “About tonight…”