"Magdalena."
"Magdalena?" she parroted incredulously.
"I need some help, Liebchen. If there was any other-"
"What do you need?"
"I need you to come here and pick me up, take me to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo, and then bring me back here."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you."
"Where are you in Magdalena? The Hotel San Martin?"
"I'm at the truck stop on the highway."
"I know it," Alicia said. "It will take me an hour. Is that all you have to say to me?"
"Liebchen, if I knew any other way..."
"I was thinking along the lines, of Te amo, Alicia.'"
"Te amo, Alicia," he said, and for some reason his voice broke.
"An hour, mi vida," she said, and hung up.
[TWO]
Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo
Near Pila, Buenos Aires Province
2245 18 April 1943
When el Patron arrived at Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo in the rear seat of the ancient Rolls Royce, he was in a state of sexual excitement and frustration. He also felt somewhat ashamed of himself.
After they drove away from her father's house, their several minutes of ten-der embraces quickly turned passionate. And Se¤orita Dorotea Mallin realized that unless she took immediate action, there was going to be activity on the leather seats that would not only be improper but that could not escape the at-tention of Suboficial Mayor Enrico Rodriguez, who was driving.
"Stop, Cletus!" she firmly ordered. "Not here!"
They broke apart and took up positions at opposite ends of the wide, dark-red leather seat. Dorotea placed her hand in the space between them, and Clete took it.
They rode along that way for perhaps half an hour. Then Clete became aware that Dorotea had dozed off. He thought this was very sweet but quickly changed his mind. The way she was sitting, every time her head dropped below a certain position it clearly caused her discomfort, and she would suddenly snap her head erect.
With absolutely innocent motivation, Clete gently pulled the dozing Dorotea to him and let her head rest in his lap. He gently and lovingly stroked her hair for several minutes, marveling that this sweet and gentle creature loved him, was bearing his child, and-as soon as they received that goddamned counseling from the Very Reverend Matthew Cashley-Price-was going to be his bride, his wife, to have and to hold from that day forward until death did them part.
With that certainly decent and arguably perhaps even noble line of thought in his mind, he then dropped off to sleep himself.
He awoke two hours later to find Dorotea's head still innocently in his lap, but its weight was delivering surprisingly sharp pain to what was the father of all erections.
He tried to endure the pain. He looked out the window. He couldn't see much.
"Where are we?"
"About five minutes from the house," Enrico replied, adding. "You were snoring again, Se¤or Clete."
"Thank you very much, Enrico," Clete said, and then yelped in pain.