Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

And that sounded sincere, too. Damn!

“You’re right, of course.”

“Then Dorotéa will not be at Coronel Díaz this afternoon?”

“She’s going right after lunch,” Clete said.

“Do you suppose I could come there then?” Perón asked.

“Better yet, Tío Juan,” Clete heard himself saying. “Why don’t you come over here right now, if that would be convenient, and have lunch with us? Father Welner is already here.”

As I suspect you damned well know. Welner’s presence here is not a coincidence.

“You sure I wouldn’t be intruding? It is important that we have a word—”

“Don’t be silly, Tío Juan,” Clete said.

“Then I shall leave directly,” Perón said. “I’m at the Libertador house.”

“Fine, then we’ll see you in just a few minutes.”

Clete put the telephone it its cradle, looked at the Champagne glass in his hand, raised it to his mouth, and drained it.

“You’re supposed to sip Champagne,” Welner said.

Clete extended his right hand, the fist balled, except for the center finger, which pointed upward.

“You don’t have an invitation to where?” Welner asked, smiling.

“To a reception at the Plaza. A German Embassy reception. You didn’t know?”

Welner shook his head.

“You being here is just one of those coincidences, right?”

“Claudia was sure you wouldn’t be here.”

“Excuse me?”

“She wants to remove some personal things,” Welner said. “She wanted to do that when she was sure you wouldn’t be here, and she asked me to be here when she did it.”

“Where is she?” Clete asked.

“She should be here any minute,” Welner said.

Clete pulled a bell cord hanging next to the door. Antonio appeared a moment later. “Señora Carzino-Cormano and probably one or both of her daughters will be here shortly. And so will el Coronel Perón. Is feeding them going to be a problem?”

“None whatever, Señor Clete.”

“In the future, Antonio, I don’t want you telling anyone—in particular el Coronel Perón—where I am, or where my wife is.”

“I never have, Señor Clete, and I never would.”

“Then how did he know we were going to be here?”

“I have no idea, Señor Clete.”

“Then I owe you an apology,” Clete said. “I should have known better. Sorry, Antonio.”