Death and Honor

[THREE]

Estancia Casa Chica Near Tandil Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 0650 20 July 1943

“Since my husband devoutly believes that enormous breakfasts are a hallowed American custom,” Doña Dorotea announced brightly at breakfast, “I have done my best to be a good wife. There is grapefruit juice and milk, toast, coffee, and ham steaks. And as I understand that those of your religious persuasion aren’t allowed to eat pork, I had the cook grill some steak to go with the eggs. I hope that will be satisfactory.”

“Anything’s fine, Dorotea,” Stein said.

“I thought the least I could do,”Lla Señora Frade said, trying to smile brightly, “was feed the condemned men a last hearty meal.”

Clete said, “Baby, nobody’s going to die—”

“At least not today, probably,” she interrupted.

“—but I admit there is a good chance we’ll be playing cops and robbers later this morning.”

Stein suddenly laughed. “Oh, I wish I could be there to see Fischer getting on his first horse and riding off on the pampas. ‘Hi, ho, Silver, away!’ ” He paused, and then went on “That probably should be, ‘Oi veh, Silverman, away!’ ”

“Sergeants are not allowed to mock commissioned officers and gentlemen such as myself, Sergeant Stein,” Fischer said good-naturedly. “Perhaps you should keep that in mind.”

“You know, when they sent the Lone Ranger movie down here, they had to change Tonto’s name,” Stein said.

Frade said, “You’re a fountain of Hollywood information, aren’t you, Siggy?”

“I shit you not, Major,” Stein said. “ ‘Tonto’ means ‘stupid’ in Spanish.”

“That’s right, it does,” Dorotea said, and giggled. “ ‘The Masked Rider of the Plains, and his faithful Indian companion, Stupid.’ ”

Everyone started laughing.

Jesus, Frade thought, the laughter is coming close to being hysterical.

I’d probably put them over the edge if I mentioned the name of where we’ve built the airfield for South American Airways—Morón.”

Then Frade wondered if he was the only one thinking that nervousness— hell, not only that but fear and terror, too—was causing the hilarity.

As they were getting in the Horch, Sargento Rodolfo Gómez walked up to Frade.

“May I have a moment, Don Cletus?”

Frade followed him out of earshot of the people in and around the car.

“What’s on your mind, Rodolfo?”

“So you will not worry about Sargento Stein, Don Cletus . . .”

“Worry about him? Why?”

“Enrico says he does not think Sargento Stein has it in him to kill the Nazi bitch.”

“I think Enrico is wrong, Rodolfo. And I don’t want either of the Germans killed unless it is necessary.”

“I understand, Don Cletus. But if I see that Sargento Stein thinks he has to do it, I will do it for him. My conscience will not bother me later. Enrico is like my brother. His sister, may she be resting in peace with all the angels, was like my sister. You understand, Don Cletus?”

“I understand, Rodolfo, and I thank you.”

“Que Dios lo acompañe, Don Cletus.”