"Your problem, mi Teniente, is keeping the clowns and the Germans from hearing you. The clowns will of course be following you, and them, and they will have telephone surveillance on your line and theirs."
"So what do I do?"
"Mi Teniente, you take them for a ride in your automobile. The clowns will not be able to hear what you say, and it will embarrass them to have to be so obvious about following you."
"Just telephone them and say I'll pick them up?"
"No. Just set a time and place to meet them. The man who brings daily deliveries of agua mineral, vegetables, and meat to the house is a friend. He will carry messages safely past the clowns."
"When does he make his next delivery?"
"Starting at three o'clock this afternoon. Three times a day."
"This is Christmas Eve."
"People need food and agua mineral on Christmas Eve," Enrico said with a shrug.
"You've got everything laid out, right? You're pretty good at this, Enrico."
"I have learned much from your father, mi Teniente."
And then Clete himself worked out a temporary, partial solution to the problem of the Virgin Princess: At Clete's suggestion, his father agreed to invite the Mallins and their children to dinner at the big house on Avenida Coronel Diaz in Palermo.
"After Christmas, of course, and before New Year's. As an expression of my gratitude to them for their hospitality when you first arrived."
"Thank you."
"You will be able to see Dorotea before you go to Miami."
"It's nothing like that, Dad," Clete said, aware that he didn't sound at all convincing. "They were just very kind to me."
"I understand completely," his father said, and winked at him, man-to-man. "Get one young, and train her right."
Somehowhe wasn't sure howhe would take the Virgin Princess aside for a few minutes and talk to her. He wasn't sure yet what exactly he would say, but the gist of his words would be that there was a great difference in their ages, that she was really too young to know her own emotions, that while he held her in the highest possible regard, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
He would at least have a chance to be with her one last time before he left. That was very important to him.
He was considering that the real, as opposed to the wishful thinking, chances were that somewhere down the pike.. .If I even come back to Argentina at all, if I survive the war, if she doesn't just dismiss me from her mind when I'm away from Argentina, I might be able tell her how I really feel about her
Christ, ask her to marry me! . . .when he heard the whine of the elevator motor, and then the sound of the door sliding open.
He didn't even turn to see who it was. The bad guys stood little chance of getting past Enrico, who had stationed himself and his Remington in an armchair in the foyer. And in any event, bad guys would not take the elevator. It was either Enrico checking on him, or one of the maids, here to clean the bath, make the bed, or do something else useful.
It was much more pleasant to fantasize about the Virgin Princess in a white dress in a church somewhere smiling at him as he lifted her veil and the priest saying, You may now kiss the bride."
"You bah-stud!" the Virgin Princess said loudly, indignantly, and quite clearly, in perfect Oxford English.
He jerked his head toward the elevator. The Virgin Princess was walking angrily across the room toward him. She was rain-soaked. Her hair hung wetly down her cheeks. Her blouse and skirt were plastered to her body.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in! Been out in the rain, have you, Princess?"
"You despicable bah-stud! I utterly loathe you!"
Clete laughed.
"I have been out of my mind with worry about you!"
And then she was on him. He quickly put his hand up to thwart her obvious intention, which was to slap him. He missed her wrist, and she punched him in the face.
Or, precisely, she connected with his nose.
"Hey, Jesus Christ! Take it easy! That hurt!"
She then slapped him, open-handed, on the head. The blow landed on his ear. It hurt even more than the punch in the nose. When he put his hand to his ear, she punched him in the face again.
He grabbed her. It took much more effort than he expected to hold her hands, then pin her to the bed. During this defensive tactic, she managed to kick his legs, his ankles, and his lower abdomen. She missed the symbol of his gender by no more than an inch.
But finally she was immobile under him.
"You didn't even call me to tell me you weren't dead!" the Virgin Princess said, and tears started down her cheeks. "On Christmas Eve, goddamn you!"
And then he was kissing her.
A minute later, when he felt her go limp, he rolled off her onto his back, breathing very heavily. After a moment he looked at her. Her nipples were clearly visible, standing erect against her rain-sodden blouse and thin brassiere.
He raised his eyes to hers. She was also breathing heavily. Eyes locked with his, she put her hand to her blouse, tore the buttons open, then freed her breasts from the confinement of the brassiere.
He put his mouth on the one closest to him.
"Cletus!" she said. "Oh, Cletus!"
"You were a virgin," he said.
"I wasn't aware it was a sin to be a virgin."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Princess."
" 'Oh, for Christ's sake, Princess,' " she mocked him, then rolled over on top of him.
"Princess!"
"I wanted to kill you," she said. "I have never been so furious with anyone in my life."
"Princess..."
"I thought the first time would be dreadful," she said. "It was actually rather nice."
" 'Rather nice'?"
"Was it nice for you too?"
"Oh, Jesus Christ!"
"Was it?"
"What do you think?" he asked. His hand seemed to find her breast as if it had a mind of its own.
"I don't know what to think, having no experience in this sort of thing to speak of."
He kissed the top of her head and said, "It was very nice, Princess."
"I'm glad," she said.
And then he was kissing her forehead and her eyes and then her mouth again.
The elevator whined.
"Somebody pushed the elevator button."
"So?" she asked, pulling his face to hers again.
"That means somebody is coming up here."
"Don't let them! Not now, Cletus!"
He freed himself, stepped out of the bed, and walked naked to the elevator.
Christ, I didn't even take my boots off!
He looked back at the bed. She was propped up on one elbow.
That has to be the most beautiful female in the world.
"Pull the sheet over you," he ordered.
"Oh, my!" she said, and reached for the sheet.
It was Enrico.
"I didn't think the lady posed a threat, mi Teniente," Enrico said, his eyes carefully raised to the ceiling, "so I let her up."
"What the hell do you want?"
"There is a Norteamericano downstairs, mi Teniente. A coronel."
"A colonel?"
S?, mi Teniente."
Who the hell can that be? ANorteamericano colonel?
"I'll be right down, Enrico."
He walked to the bed. She was prone under a sheet.