Honor Bound (Honor Bound 1)

“That happened to a cousin of mine when my class was called,” Martín said. “He served three weeks.”

“I think he finds it rather embarrassing,” Mallín said. “That it somehow makes him less a man.”

“It will also keep him from getting killed. In time, he will probably decide he was lucky.”

“When my class was called up,” Mallín said, “I didn’t want to go. I was in love. But on the other hand, I was afraid that I would not pass the physical examination.”

“Precisely,” Martín said, smiling. “And my last question, which obviously has nothing to do with internal security, is why Mister Frade is staying with you, and not with his father.”

I knew he’d come to that. Of course that would interest BIS. Anything to do with Frade interests them, and now a son that nobody’s ever heard of suddenly shows up, and instead of staying with his father or another member of the family, he stays with me. As if he doesn’t want it known, or el Coronel Frade doesn’t want it known, that there is a son, or that he’s here. I would be suspicious of that myself.

“Well, for one thing, el Coronel Frade wasn’t in town when young Frade arrived,” Mallín said, hoping he sounded more at ease than he felt. “He was at his estancia, I believe. And for another, I welcomed the opportunity to repay the hospitality of Mr. Howell.”

“I have heard—what, ‘gossip’?—that there is some problem between father and son. Would you feel awkward talking about that?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Mallín said. “I would suspect that it is, as you suggested, simply gossip. I do know that young Frade and his father are having lunch today.”

“Oh, really?”

“At the Alvear Palace, if that’s of interest to you.”

“Only in that it puts the gossip to rest,” Martín said. He stood up. “I won’t take any more of your time, Señor Mallín. Thank you very much for seeing me.”

“It was my pleasure, mi Coronel,” Mallín said, walking with Martín to the door.

“May I make a suggestion, Señor Mallín?”

“Of course.”

“I would suggest that you not mention to Mr. Frade, or his father, that we had this little chat. Internal Security has an unfortunate—and as far as I am concerned, unjustified—reputation. You have more than satisfactorily answered both my official queries and my personal curiosity. I can see no point in causing either of the gentlemen in question undue concern. Can you?”

“I take your point, mi Coronel.”

“Thank you again,” Martín said, smiled, shook Mallín’s hand, and walked out of the office.

Enrico Mallín walked to the window overlooking the Río de la Plata and rested his forehead on the cool glass.

He went over the entire conversation in his mind. He could think of nothing he said that was either untrue or could cause difficulty. But that did not alter the underlying unpleasant truth, which was that Internal Security was interested in his houseguest, and by association, in him.

Everybody knows that el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade is deeply involved with the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos. Will Internal Security now suspect that because I am close enough to Frade to entertain his son in my home, I am also closely connected with Grupo de Oficiales Unidos?

God, if I had known who his father was, I wouldn’t have had him at the house for so much as a cocktail!

Goddamn the old man for not telling me who his grandson is!

That could have been innocent, of course. A natural reluctance to keep intimate family business private. But Clete should have said something; after all, he was a guest in my house! He should have known—of course he knew—that we would be interested to know who his father is. He didn’t tell us until he had to! Why?

And I don’t like the way he looks at Dorotea, either. Or the way she looks at him. How dare he call her “Princess”?

Well, he’ll be gone tomorrow, or the day after, and after that, I will simply, tactfully, increase the distance between us.

IX

[ONE]

Edificio Kavanagh

Calle Florida 1065