Honor Bound (Honor Bound 1)

“Why?” Claudia demanded.

“I am reliably informed that it is not wise to fly an aircraft under the influence of alcohol.”

“Is he going flying?”

“I thought—it is a lovely day—that we would return you to your home in the Beechcraft. I will arrange for your car to be delivered there.”

“And Cletus will fly the airplane?”

“Certainly. Why not? He is an experienced military pilot. He probably knows more about flying than el Capitán Delgano.”

“Cletus?” Claudia asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.

“After flying the Wildcat fighter, Claudia,” his father persisted, “as he did in Guadalcanal, flying the Beechcraft will be like riding a tame old mare.”

“I’m sure I can fly it,” Clete said. “But I’d like to solo it an hour or so before I carry passengers.”

“Solo it?”

“Fly it alone for an hour.”

“Not only experienced, but cautious,” Frade said. “It is settled. We will have our sandwiches, and he will have coffee. And afterwards he will solo for an hour, and then we will fly you home. I’m sure your daughters will like to meet him. Perhaps he can take them for a ride. You might wish to call to make sure they are at home.”

“Precioso,” Claudia said, laughing, “if it is your intention to marry him off to one of the girls, as I suspect it is, you are going about it in exactly the wrong way. Young people never like the young people their parents consider suitable for them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade said.

“El Teniente Frade is a fine pilot, mi Coronel,” el Capitán Gonzalo Delgano, Air Service, Argentine Army, Retired, reported. The two of them had just taken the stagger-wing Beechcraft on a thirty-minute orientation flight, with half a dozen touch-and-go landings. “As fine a pilot as I know.”

Don’t let it go to your head, Cletus, my boy. Unless you had dumped that airplane, it was the only thing he co

uld say about the boss’s son’s piloting skills.

He also doesn’t like it a bit that I’m flying what he thought of as his personal airplane. But there’s nothing he can do about that, either, except smile.

“Then we can go?” el Coronel asked. “I will send for Señora Carzino-Cormano.”

“Not yet,” Clete said. “I’d like to solo it first.”

His father looked disappointed and a little annoyed, but finally said, “Whatever you think is best, Cletus.”

“I won’t be long,” Clete said, and walked back to the airplane.

The pilot in him now took over. He had no doubt that he could fly the airplane, but that presumed nothing would go wrong. A lot of things could go wrong: The checkout had been really inadequate, and there was no civilian equivalent of a Navy BuAir Dash One, “Pilot’s Instruction Manual,” to study for the CAUTION notices, which warned pilots what they should not do.

But I have to fly it. And not just to take Señora Carzino-Cormano safely home.

While he was looking the plane over earlier, he noticed a low-level chart in a compartment on the door, an Argentine Army Air Service map of the area. He examined this with great interest. In addition to pointing out the few available navigation aids, a dozen or so civilian airstrips—one was at the Estancia Santa Catharina, Señora Carzino-Cormano’s ranch—and a military air base ninety kilometers to the south, the chart showed the entire mouth of the Río de la Plata, including all of Samborombón Bay and a couple of miles of the coastline of Uruguay.

Within a day or two, he thought with sudden excitement—presuming she’s not already here—the Reine de la Mer will be anchored out there, waiting to replenish German submarines. I’m supposed to find her and blow her up. I didn’t come here with the idea of finding her myself, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to see if I can.

He strapped himself in and looked out the window for el Capitán Delgano. When they first fired up the stagger-wing, Clete stood by the fire extinguisher for Delgano. And he expected Delgano to do the same for him; but Delgano was nowhere in sight. Clete pushed himself out of the leather-upholstered pilot’s seat, went back through the cabin, and opened the door.

“Something is wrong?” his father asked.

“I need the fire extinguisher, Dad,” Clete said. “I’m about to start it up. What happened to el Capitán Delgano?”

“That is the first time you have ever called me that,” his father said.