Pamela would be pleased to see him. She didn't expect him for several hours. Perhaps he would surprise everyone, Pamela, Dorotea, and Little Enrico, and take everybody out for dinner.
[FOUR]
4730 Avenida Libertador
Buenos Aires
1730 16 December 1942
Clete put the top up on the Buick convertible, marveling again that the General Motors automotive engineers had the ingenuity to come up with a device that would raise and lower the top at the push of a button (unlike the do-it-yourself bullshit he and Tony had had with the '37 Ford in Punta del Este). Then he carefully locked the car and walked into Uncle Guillermo's house.
A man was loitering at the corner of Calle Jorge Newberry, and Clete wondered whether the man was there to watch him.
He was in an unpleasant mood. Who the hell was Jorge Newberry, anyway? he thought as the man on the corner glanced his way, then averted his gaze.
The plan was to leave Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo for Estancia Santa Catharina sometime in the morning. To Clete's way of thinking, that meant sometime before ten-thirty. But it was twelve-thirty before the two-car, Horche-Buick convoy finally set out down the gravel road to Estancia Santa Catharina. During the forty-mile trip, he had to swallow the dust from his father's Horche.
And, of course, Claudia's daughters were not prepared to leave when they arrived. Argentina, while very unlike Mexico, had ma?ana in common with the republic immediately south of the Rio Grande.
"Since you have nothing to do in Buenos Aires," his father said cheerfully, "I'm sure you won't mind waiting for the girls to finish their packing while Claudia and I drive ahead. The girls will show you the way."
"Fine," Clete said.
The trouble was that he had something to do in Buenos Aires. He had to get in touch with Nestor and tell him he had found the Reine de la Mer and that he could forget taking her out by planting a charge against her hull. It couldn't be done that way. And since he could think of no way to do it himself, that would be up to Nestor to figure out.
On the flight back to the ranch, inspired by an Errol Flynn Battling the Dirty Nazis movie he vaguely remembered, he considered sneaking aboard the ship, overpowering the crew, placing scuttling charges, and then slipping away.
It worked for Errol Flynn. But, he finally rememberedshooting down the only idea he had been able to come up withthat ship in the movie was tied up at a wharf, not anchored twenty-odd miles offshore.
But of course he could not tell his father that, so he smiled and waited patiently for the girls to put their goddamned gear together. He occupied himself by putting the convertible top down, because he would no longer be swallowing his father's dust.
When she finally came out to the car, Isabela Carzino-Cormano insisted on riding in the backseat. Fine gentleman that he was, knowing that riding in the backseat of a convertible going as fast as he intended to drive was no fun, he put the roof up.
That situation lasted perhaps two miles, until Isabela tapped him imperiously on the shoulder and asked him if he would be good enough to please raise the windows. The wind was mussing her hair and she was getting dusty.
That was the last word Isabela spoke before they reached Buenos Aires. It was hotter than hell in the Buick with the roof up.
Alicia Carzino-Cormano tried to make conversation. "Now tell the truth, Cletus," she asked him, "aren't you really just a poco interested in Dorotea Mallin?" Watching them play tennis, she saw him looking at her in a certain way.
Actually, Alicia, you saw me looking down her dress and at her crotch, because 1 am a perverted dirty young man.
"Alicia, don't let your imagination run away with you. And since you're so curious, there is a young woman in America I'm involved with."
He was glad to get rid of both of them at his father's house on Avenida Coronel Diaz and drive quickly to the Guest House.
One of the maids greeted him at the door, then asked him if he would like her to park the Buick.
Thank you, no. Sweetheart. You are probably a worse driver than my father.
"No, gracias. I'm going to leave it right where it is."
His answer brought him a lecture about petty crime on the streets of Buenos Aires. She assured him that if he left the car outside overnight, in the morning there would be nothing left but the windshield, and perhaps not even that.
Getting the car into the garage also posed a problem. They couldn't find the keys. Se?ora Pellano would of course know where the keys were, the maid told him, but Se?ora Pellano was unfortunately at the house on Avenida Coronel Diaz. They wound up telephoning Se?ora Pellano and asking where the keys were.
Finally, stopping off at the kitchen to load a silver champagne cooler with ice and two bottles of cerveza, Clete was able to take the elevator to Uncle Guillermo's playroom and get on the horn to Nestor. Predictably, Nestor was not thrilled to hear from him.
"I saw that boat you were talking about, the one you're thinking of buying? Reine de la Mer,'' Clete said.
"I'd really rather hear it from you in person, Clete. Why don't you come here?"
"Certainly."
"You have your car?"
"Yeah."
"We can take a ride."
"I'm on my way," Clete said.
[FIVE]
Jasper C. Nestor came out of his house and got in the Buick. As soon as he was seated, Clete said, "There's a Fiat parked down the street that was parked across the street from the Guest House when I drove out of the garage."
"Well, they can't hear us as long as we're driving. You implied that you know where the Reine de la Mer is?"
"She's at anchor twenty miles or so offshore in the Bay of Samboromb?n."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw her there. I was flying my father's airplane."
"You're sure it's the Reine de la Mer? How can you be sure?"
"Because I flew close enough to read her sternboard. And as a bonus, I got a good look at all the nice searchlights and machine-gun mounts on her superstructure."
"You ... flew close enough to read her sternboard?"
"I buzzed her, all right? That was the only way I could get close enough to read the sternboard."
"I'm not sure that was wise."
"Why?" Clete asked incredulously.
"We would have found her."
"You didn't, did you?"
"And now they know you've found her."
"Mr. Nestor, I don't think there's any way to get close enough to her to blow her up. At least, I can't think of one."
"Point one, Frade, is that you're not to blow her up, you are to disable her. And as quickly as possible, certainly within the next week or ten days. If she replenishes one German submarine, that's one too many. Point two is that you seem to have forgotten that it is not your function to question your orders, but to obey them."
"Did you hear what I said? There is no way to get close to her where she lies. And even if we could, I don't believe that the explosives we have would do much damage."
"There's enough explosivesyou have more than twenty pounds. If judiciously placed, that's more than enough to disable her. That's what we're after."