Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

“Am I flying first thing in the morning?”

“The Navy’s coming first thing in the morning,” Galland said. “How much of the scotch have you had?”

“Korvettenkapitän Boltitz,” Peter said. “He slipped my mind for a minute.”

“That’s understandable, Hansel. I’ve never seen a sailor nearly as attractive as Trudi,” Galland said, smiling. “But under the circumstances, I will, Major von Wachtstein, change that suggestion to an order.”

“Sir?”

“If you feel, Major von Wachtstein, that it’s your duty to maintain the reputation of Luftwaffe fighter pilots by providing what the lady so obviously wants, you will do so on the premises.”

Peter didn’t reply.

“I gave my word, you will recall,” Galland went on, “that I would have you here for the Korvettenkapitän in the morning. I don’t want to tell him you’re off God only knows where attempting to increase the Bavarian birth rate.”

“Jawohl, Herr General.”

“I had my orderly put your bag in the second bedroom to the left, at the top of the stairs,” Galland said. “And he will take Trudi home in the morning.”

“I wish I shared your high opinion of my irresistibility, Herr General,” Peter said. “I don’t think she’s all that interested in me.”

“Oh, I’m sure she is.”

“With all possible respect, Herr General, I disagree.”

Galland winked at Peter, smiled knowingly, punched him affectionately on the arm, and walked away.

Across the room, Trudi saw that Galland had left Peter, and she walked to him, offering the glass.

“I’ve got scotch, thank you.”

“Scotch tastes like medicine to me.”

“And the cognac?”

“Like…cognac,” Trudi said.

There was the sound of music, a phonograph playing in an adjacent room.

“That’s Glenn Miller,” Peter said.

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” Trudi said.

It took him a moment to take her meaning. “Is Glenn Miller proscribed?” he asked.

“He’s decadent,” Trudi said, “Are you decadent, Herr Baron?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Peter said without thinking.

“Herr Major?” she asked with a smile.

“Peter will do nicely,” he said, and thought aloud: “He’s in the American Air Corps, you know. Glenn Miller, I mean.”

“Really?” She seemed surprised. “How do you know?”

“I read it in the English newspaper, the Buenos Aires Herald, when I was in Argentina. He and his whole band.”

“I thought reading enemy newspapers was proscribed,” Trudi said. “They’re decadent.”