"Why not? And anyway, it's out of my control."
His father met his eyes, then smiled and shrugged.
"Shall we continue with the business at hand?" he asked.
[FOUR]
4730 Avenida Libertador
Buenos Aires
1205 25 December 1942
When Chief Radioman Oscar J. Schultz, USN, arrived at the Guest House in the back of a truck, wearing civilian work clothes and carrying a case of mineral water, he looked more than a little dubious about the whole operation.
He set the case of mineral water on the kitchen table and glanced around.
"Mr. Frade?"
Clete nodded.
"I'm Chief Schultz."
"This is Lieutenant Pelosi and Staff Sergeant Ettinger."
"Who's the character with the shotgun? Is he in on this?"
"Se?or?" Enrico asked.
"Chief Schultz, this is Suboficial MayorSergeant Major Rodriguez, Argentine Cavalry, Retired," Clete said.
"No shit?" Chief Schultz replied, examined Enrico more carefully, and then offered his hand to him.
"Chief Radioman Schultz, Suboficial Mayor," he said in Spanish. "I'm damned glad to see you here. I was afraid I was going to be the only professional involved in this nutty business."
"Where'd you learn to speak Spanish, Chief?" Clete asked.
"I did two hitches at Cavite, in the Philippines," Schultz replied, winked, and added, "I had what we called a sleeping dictionary."
"Perhaps you would like a beer?" Enrico asked.
"I've never been known to turn one down," Chief Schultz said.
Three bottles of cerveza and a perfectly cooked T-bone steak later, Chief Schultz turned to Staff Sergeant Ettinger.
"You're the radio guy, Sergeant, right?"
Ettinger nodded.
"What do you know about nighttime radiation in the twenty-meter band?"
"A little."
"I don't suppose you've ever heard of a Collins Model Six?"
"I had a look at the schematics," Ettinger said. "It has a very interesting secondary exciter."
"How 'interesting'?"
"The theory is interesting," Ettinger said. "But I wondered about harmonic synchronization before crystal temperature stabilization."
"The way it comes from the factory, harmonic synchronization's not worth a shit," Chief Schultz said, the tone of his voice making clear his relief at finding a peer on whom he would not be wasting his valuable time, effort, and knowledge. "Somebody get me a sheet of paper and a pencil, and I'll show you the fix I come up with."
From that point onward, Clete and Tony understood not one word of their conversation. Chief Schultz and Staff Sergeant Ettinger, talking in tongues, filled sheet after sheet of paper with esoteric schematic drawings of radio circuitry and mathematical formulae, determining among other things the optimum length and orientation of the antennae that would be erected on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.
At twenty past one, one of the maids came into the kitchen and handed Clete a large, well-sealed envelope, bearing the return address of the Anglo-Argentine Bank on Calle San Martin.
"A messenger brought this for you, Se?or Frade," the maid said.
Clete opened the envelope. It contained documents, each stamped, embossed, and signed with flowing signatures in several places by various functionaries. These documents stated that the financial obligations incurred by one Se?or Francisco Manuel Alberghoni in connection with the Ristorante Napoli and associated property in the District of Boca, Buenos Aires, to the Anglo-Argentine Bank, S.A., had been satisfied in full by the transfer this date of certain funds to the Anglo-Argentine Bank, S.A., from the funds held by the Anglo-Argentine Bank, S.A., in trust for one Se?or Cletus Howell Frade, of Estancia San Pedro y San
Pablo, Pila, Province of Buenos Aires, thus relieving the original guarantor of the aforementioned financial obligations of the aforementioned Se?or Alberghoni, one Se?or Enrico Mallin, of the Sociedad Mercantil de Importacion Productos Petrolfferos, Edificio Kavanagh, Buenos Aires, of any further financial liability of any kind with regard to the Anglo-American Bank, S.A.
"I'll be damned!" Clete said.
"What is that?"
"You owe me thirteen grand, Tony," Clete said. "Your girlfriend's father is off the hook."
"Jesus, Clete," Tony said. "Thanks. Can I see that?"
Clete hesitated, then remembering Tony's very poor Spanish, handed it to him.
"I can't read this," Tony said after a moment.
"Don't bother," Clete said. "Take my word for it."
Tony looked at him curiously.
"Sometimes when you turn over a rock," Clete said, "slimy things crawl out. It's all done, Tony. All you have to do is come up with the thirteen grand to pay me back." He retrieved the stack of paper from Tony and smiled at him.
Tony looked distressed.
"Something else on your mind?" Clete asked. "Don't tell me you've had second thoughts about your lady friend?"
"No," Tony said quickly. "Nothing like that. Jesus! She's really a nice girl, Clete."
"But?"
"Lieutenant, I've been thinking," Tony said uncomfortably.
"Lieutenant"? We're back to "Lieutenant"?
"Second Lieutenants are not expected to think, Lieutenant," Clete said. "I thought you knew that."
"I don't want to sound like a wiseass."
"Out with it, Tony."
"I don't think your idea of making that fucking ship turn on its searchlights by shooting at it with a .30-caliber Browning makes a whole lot of sense, Lieutenant, is what I've been thinking."
Clete made a "come, let's have it" gesture with his hands.
"For one thing, you're going to have to get pretty close to it to hit it, and I don't know how the hell you plan to mount a machine gun in that little airplane, but it's not going to be easy."
That problem is actually Number Two, or maybe even Number One, on my list of Problems to Be Resolved.
"And you said the Reine de la Mer has .50s, and probably twenty-millimeter Bofors. All you're going to do is make a goddamned target out of us."
That thought, Lieutenant Pelosi, has run through my mind once or twice.
"Us?" Clete asked.
"I figured I'd be working the machine gun," Tony said.
Actually, I was thinking Enrico would.
Clete said that aloud: "Tony, I thought I'd take Enrico with me. I haven't figured out how to mount a machine gun in the Beechcraft. The .30 Browning may not work. We may have to use a BAR"a Browning Automatic Rifle, a fully automatic shoulder weapon. "Enrico's a BAR expert; they've had in them in the Argentinean Army for years."
"And what am I supposed to do," Tony asked indignantly, "sit around somewhere with my thumb up my ass while you're off in the airplane?"
"I was thinking you could back up Dave," Clete said, aware that it was a lame reply. "You were going to tell me what you were thinking, Tony."
"Why do we have to fuck around making the ship illuminate herself? Why don't we illuminate the sonofabitch ourselves?"
"How?"
"I don't know. But I figured I'd ask the Chief here. Maybe they've got something like an illuminating round."
"How would we fire it?" Clete asked. "You need a cannon to fire an illuminating round."
"We have Very pistols," Chief Schultz said, turning from the table to join the conversation. Clete was surprised. He'd thought Schultz was deep in technical conversation with Ettinger.