Since it was reasonable to presume that the young German officer was not involved with young Frade's mission for the OSS (if indeed young Frade was actually working for the OSS), it seemed reasonably safe to presume that the confrontation had something to do with the Carzino-Cormano girl. Isabela was a beautiful young woman, and both the German and the American could easily be romantically interested in her.
Thus, a likely scenario: Young Frade slipped away from the funeral and the post-funeral reception for a meeting with his men, then telephoned the Duarte mansion (during the period of "technical difficulties" with the telephone surveillance), somehow managed to get through, and was informed that the Se?orita had left with the German officer.
Thirty-two incoming calls came to the Duarte mansion during the afternoon; four of them asked for Se?orita Isabela Carzino-Cormano.
Masculine ego outraged, he went looking for them in one of the very few public places where a young woman of her position could be seen, found her with the German, expressed his displeasure, and "walked angrily" out of the hotel.
He next went to the Duarte mansion and stayed there for several hours, presumably helping Se?ora Carzino-Cormano deal with his father, who was by then very deeply in his cups.
"And where, Habanzo, is young Frade now?"
"At the Guest House, mi Coronel."
"You're sure of that?"
"S?, mi Coronel."
"And the agents on duty are prepared to deal with the situation if he suddenly erupts again from the garage and drives away at a high rate of speed? They will not, to rephrase the question, lose him again?"
"No, mi Coronel."
"And may we expect further 'technical difficulties' with communications surveillance of the Guest House line?"
"I have been assured, mi Coronel, that the equipment is now working perfectly. But on the other hand, mi Coronel..."
"I don't wish to hear about 'on the other hand,' Habanzo."
"No, mi Coronel."
"I want enough people on the communications surveillance, and enough visual people watching the house, so that tomorrow morning I will know if there were telephone calls to him, and what was said. And I want to know who comes to visit him."
"S?, mi Coronel."
"And if he leaves the Guest House by careven at a 'high rate of speed'I want to know where he goes, who he sees, and with a little bit of luck, what he says."
S?, mi Coronel."
"That will be all, Habanzo. I will see you here, with tonight's preliminary reports, at nine in the morning. And if there is any unforeseen problem, I expect you to telephone me at my home."
S?, mi Coronel. I understand."
"I devoutly hope so, Habanzo."
[TWO]
4730 Avenida Libertador
Buenos Aires
0015 20 December 1942
"I wonder," Clete Howell said aloud as he pulled off the avenue onto the driveway and stopped, "if I can get this big sonofabitch through that narrow gate."
He was driving his father's Horche, with Se?ora Pellano sitting next to him. He had the Horche because he took his father home from the Duartes in it, and he needed a way back to the Guest House.
An hour earlier, though he seemed to have passed out for the evening in a leather armchair in the Duartes' upstairs sitting room, El Coronel suddenly stood up and announced that he was tired and going home.
"You are not going to drive," Se?ora Carzino-Cormano said.
"You're drunk." "Don't be absurd."
"Dad, you've had a couple," Clete said.
"He's had a liter!" Se?ora Carzino-Cormano said.
"I have never been drunk in my life."
"It is a pity, Jorge," Se?ora Carzino-Cormano said, "that Cletus is such a bad driver. Otherwise he could drive you home in your car."
"Cletus, you silly woman, is a splendid driver. I myself accompanied him while he was at the wheel of the Horche. He drives it nearly as well as I do." He turned to Clete. "It is settled. You will drive me home in the Horche. Then you may use the Horche as long as you like." He turned back to Se?ora Carzino-Cormano: "Are you satisfied, you silly woman?"
"Perfectly, my darling. You are always such a reasonable man."
Not without difficulty, El Coronel was installed in the front seat by Clete, Enrico, and Se?ora Pellano. And he was asleep by the time they reached the big house on Avenida Coronel Diaz. With Se?ora Pellano preceding them to open doors, Enrico and Clete half-carried, half-dragged him up the stairs to his bedroom, undressed him, and put him to bed. As soon as he was on his back, he started to snore.
"Will he be all right?" Clete asked Enrico.
"I will stay with him, mi Teniente, until Se?ora Carzino-Cormano arrives."
Clete considered waiting for Claudia, then decided to hell with it, he would take the Horche and worry about the Buick in the morning.
"Se?or Clete?" Se?ora Pellano asked.
"I was wondering if I can get this car through the gate."
"I will guide you," she said. She stepped out of the car, opened the gate, and with great seriousness (which made him smile), used hand signals to guide him into the basement garage.
"Can I make you a little something to eat, Se?or Clete?" she asked as they entered the house through the kitchen. "Perhaps a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you, Se?ora Pellano. I'm beat. I'm going to bed."
"You're sure?"
"I am positive."
"Se?or Clete, I have something to say," she said hesitantly.
"Say it."
"Today was a sad occasion. But it was not the burial of Jorge that made your father drink."
"Excuse me?"
"It was happiness. You are here and alive, and your war is over. That is why your father drank. He is so relieved, so happy about that."
She touched his face.
"¿Con su permiso?" she asked, and before he could reply, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.
Without thinking, he put his arms around her and hugged her.
It was hotter than hell in Uncle Guillermo's playroom. No one had raised the vertical blinds to take advantage of the breezes coming off the Rio de la Plata. Se?ora Pellano would have taken care of that; but she wasn't here.
By the time he raised them and opened the windows to the balcony, Clete was sweat-soaked. He stripped down to his undershorts and boots, then stepped onto the balcony to catch the breeze.
Who's going to see me, anyhow? And if somebody does, so
what?
He relaxed for a moment on one of the six comfortable, cushioned chairs around the table, wiping the sweat from his brow as soon as he was seated. Then he stood up and went to the ice chest. It should certainly be stocked with cold beer, he thought with pleasure.
The beer was floating around in tepid water.
When the cat's away, the mice will play,he thought. If Se?ora Pellano had not gone to the Duartes' to help out at the funeral, there would be cold beer in here.
And then the hair on his neck curled.
Jesus Christ, if Peter was serious, I'm one hell of a target for somebody with a rifle over there in the racetrack grandstands!
He quickly returned to the bedroom and stood with his back against the wall. His heart was beating rapidly, and his sweat was now clammy.