W E B Griffin - Honor 1 - Honor Bound

by Honor Bound(Lit)

  "A few glasses..."

  "Most of two bottles. You convinced yourself that Cletus wrecked the airplane, and that it was your fault. Coffee!"

  "As you wish," Frade said, and marched across the verandah as if he owned it, to sit in a leather armchair. To judge by the cigar humidor and ashtray on a table beside it, he had used the chair before. He opened the humidor, extended it to Clete, who took one of the large black cigars inside.

  "I was not at all concerned with Cletus's ability to fly the airplane. I thought perhaps he had mechanical difficulties, or ran out of fuel."

  "Or became lost, or the wings or the engine fell off. You have an active imagination, precioso, and it was running at full speed."

  "I was speaking of the travel arrangements for tomorrow," el Coronel said, changing the subject. Again he addressed Isabela and Alicia. "This afternoon, Enrico will come here in the station wagon for the luggage. He and Se¤ora Pellano will carry it to my house, where she will arrange things for your stay. In the morn-ing, your mother and I will drive to Buenos Aires in my Horche, and you will go with Cletus in his Buick. You will have to direct him to my house, as he does not know the way."

  "Is he going to the funeral?" Isabela asked, surprised. Un-pleasantly surprised, it was immediately clear.

  "Of course he is," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said quickly, and a little sharply. "Jorge was his cousin."

  "If I have a choice in the matter, I would prefer to drive into Buenos Aires this afternoon with Enrico in the station wagon," Isabela said.

  What did I ever do to you, honey? As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to go to the goddamned funeral in the first place, and so far as I'm concerned, you can walk to Buenos Aires.

  "You will not go with Enrico and Se¤ora Pellano in the station wagon," her mother said flatly. "It would be unseemly for Cletus and Alicia to travel alone."

  "And it won't be unseemly for him to be at the funeral?"

  "You are excused, Isabela," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said furiously.

  Claudia waited until the sound of Isabela's high heels on the tile floor of the house had died.

  "I'm am so sorry, Cletus," she said. "I apologize."

  "Did I somehow give offense?"

  "She was close to Jorge," Claudia said.

  "Not really," Alicia added. "But now that he's dead, she's convinced herself she was in love with him."

  Her mother looked angrily at her.

  "That's a terrible thing to say!"

  "It's true. She'd wear widow's black if she thought she could get away with it. It draws attention to her."

  Claudia glowered at her, then shrugged her shoulders and let the remark go unchallenged.

  "I always thought that Isabela and Jorge..." el Coronel said, leaving the rest unsaid. "But that certainly doesn't give her the right to treat Cletus as if... as if he's an enemy officer."

  "Jorge, she wasn't doing that at all!" Claudia said.

  "Why else would she feel it was unseemly for Cletus to be at Jorge's funeral?"

  "Because she is a fool, Uncle Jorge," Alicia said.

  "Alicia, that's the last word I want to hear from you," Claudia said angrily, and turned to el Coronel. "Honey," she said almost plaintively, "I'll speak to her. I'll make sure she understands that it was the anti-Christ communists who killed Jorge, not the Amer-icans."

  While he was flying an airplane for the Germans, who are murdering hundreds of thousands of women and children.

  "Please do," Frade said, not pleasantly. "I think an apology to Cletus is in order."

  That was not a suggestion from a visitor. Obviously, my father has the same kind of authority in this house as Claudia does in his. I wonder why he never married her. He said she was a widow.

  "No apology is necessary," Clete said. "Except from me. I'm sorry to be a source of unpleasantness, Claudia."

  "Oh, honey, you're not," Claudia said, and kissed him. "You're a source of joy."

  "Speak to her," el Coronel Frade said.

  "You mean right now?" Claudia asked.

  "Yes, I mean right now," el Coronel said. There was a tone of command in his voice, and Claudia reacted to it.

  "Excuse me, please, Cletus," she said, and went in the house.

  "Alicia," el Coronel Frade ordered, "would you have some-one bring us some champagne?"

  "Do I get any of it?"

  "If you can drink it before your mother comes back," Frade said with a smile.

  "Sounds fair enough," Alicia said, and went quickly into the house.

  Now that was a father talking to his daughter, and vice versa. What the hell is their relationship?

  "I'm sorry about this, Cletus," el Coronel said.

  "No problem, Dad. I was raised with Uncle Jim's girls. They drove both of us crazy, too."

  [THREE]

  The Plaza Hotel Bar

  Buenos Aires

  1710 15 December 1942

  Se¤or Enrico Mallin, with Se¤orita Maria-Teresa Alberghoni on his arm, entered the bar via the street entrance rather than through the lobby. They had just come from her apartment.

  In her apartment earlier, watching her postcoital ablutions through the glass wall of her shower, and then watching her dress, he told himself she was not only an exquisitely lovely young woman, but a sweet and gentle one as well, worth every peso she cost him.

  It was not impossible, he also told himself, that she was be-ginning to love him for himself-she certainly acted like it in bed. Perhaps she was not submitting to his attentions solely be-cause of the allowance he gave her, and the apartment, and his guarantee of her father's loan at the Anglo-Argentinean Bank. He was flattered by such thoughts, of course, but he was at the same time aware that they were not without a certain risk... if she let her emotions get out of control, for example.

  An arrangement was an arrangement. And its obligations and limitations had to be mutually understood between the parties. She would never become more than his Mi¤a, and he would never be more than her good friend, her protector. She was expected to be absolutely faithful to her good friend-the very idea of another man touching Maria-Teresa, those exquisite breasts, those soft, splendid thighs, was distasteful. And he was expected to be faith-ful to her. Excepting of course, vis-a-vis his wife.

  The relationship was an old-he hesitated to use the word "sa-cred"-Buenos Aires custom. His father had a Mi¤a; his grand-father had a Mi¤a; and most of the gentlemen of his professional and social acquaintance had Mi¤as. When he was a young man, his father explained to him the roots of the custom: It first de-veloped in the olden days, when marriages were arranged with land and property, not love, as the deciding factor, and a man could not be expected to find sexual satisfaction with a woman who might have brought 50,000 hectares as her dowry but was as ugly as a horse.

  In the olden days, a gentleman was expected to provide for the fruit of any such arrangement. And he was ostracized from polite society if he failed to do so. Some of the affluent Buenos Aires families (those who were perhaps a little vague about their line-age) could often trace their good fortune back to a great-grandmother or a great-great-grandmother who had an arrangement with a gentleman of wealth and position.

  Just before the turn of the century, when Queen Victoria was on the British throne, the custom was buttressed by Queen Vic-toria's notion-shamelessly aped by Argentine society, as were other things British in those days-that ladies could have no in-terest in the sexual act save reproduction. A man, a real man, needed more than a woman who offered him her body only in-frequently and with absurd limitations on what he might do "with it.

  In exchange for certain considerations, a Mi¤a well understood her sexual role.

  In more recent times, the necessity for permanence in the relationship between a Mi¤a and her good friend died out. This was because the efficacy of modern birth-control methods obviated the problem of children. On more than one occasion, however, Enrico Mallin considered giving Maria-Teresa a child. He loved his own children, of course, b
ut they had inherited their mother's English paleness. He thought it might be nice to have a child or two with Maria-Teresa-a child who would have his olive skin and dark eyes, his Spanish blood.

  Of course, on reflection, he realized the foolishness of this no-tion, and ascribed it to his fascination with her olive skin and dark eyes.

  Because a Mi¤a was not a whore or a prostitute, it would be ungentlemanly to conclude an arrangement with her in such fash-ion that she was forced into one of those professions afterward. Hence the allowance, at least a part of which the girl was expected to save for a dowry-which she could use after the arrangement came to an end. And hence the note at the Anglo-Argentinean Bank which Enrico had guaranteed for her father's business. When a Mi¤a had enough money to wish to begin her married future, it was usually time for her good friend to wonder whether the grass might be greener elsewhere.

  Maria-Teresa Alberghoni was Enrico Mallin's third Mi¤a, and she had been with him for four years. While he couldn't imagine replacing her, in the back of his mind it seemed to him that their arrangement would doubtless come to an end in another two or three years... though in truth, he didn't really want to do without Maria-Teresa. The grass is rarely greener than where you are standing.

  Although one of the best in Buenos Aires, the Plaza Hotel is, after all, nothing more than a hotel. A hotel accommodates trav-elers... or sometimes a man and a woman not married to each other who require a bed behind a locked door.

  Appearances are important. Unless it is for some specific func-tion-such as a ball, or a wedding reception that their husbands are unable to attend-ladies should not risk gossip by being seen in a hotel without their husbands. Specifically, a lady would not think of entering the bar at the Plaza Hotel without her husband; and gentlemen of Enrico Mallin's social and professional circle had an unspoken agreement never to take their wives to the bar at the Plaza under any circumstances.

  This left the gentlemen free to take their Mi¤as there in the almost certain knowledge that they were safe from their wives.

  The girls liked the system too. They could move from table to table chatting happily with their friends, while the gentlemen were afforded the opportunity to show off their Mi¤as to their peers, and to have private conversations about business, or whatever else needed to be discussed in confidence, in a place where the walls do not have ears.

  As a matter of fact, in Enrico Mallin's judgment, the showing-off aspects of the custom had recently started to get a little out of hand. For one thing, certain gentlemen were beginning to be-deck their Mi¤as in jewelry and furs. There was nothing wrong, certainly, with giving your Mi¤a a couple of small gold trinkets, or even a silver-fox cape, especially if she had done something to make you extraordinarily happy, or as a farewell gift, if the relationship was drawing to an end.

  But these weren't trinkets, these were diamonds and other pre-cious jewels, and heavy gold bracelets, and quite expensive fur coats. Once one or two gentlemen started this practice, all the Mi¤as would begin to expect it.

  And worse than that, certain gentlemen started to appear in the Plaza bar with a Mi¤a on each arm. And there was one old fool, Hector Forestiero-he was as bald as a cucumber and must be in his seventies-who was showing up with three. Enrico had no idea what exactly he thought he was proving by this-to suggest that he had enough money for three Mi¤as, or that he was still virile enough to handle a menage a quatre in bed.

  The Plaza bar was L-shaped. The bar itself, with its comfortable stools, occupied a corner of the room. On either side, there were leather-upholstered chairs and tables under large mirrors and ma-hogany paneling.

  The place was full, but that was not unusual. When the maitre d'hotel saw Mallin and Maria-Teresa, he came quickly to them and led them to a table at one end of the L. He snatched a brass "Reservado" sign from it and held Maria-Teresa's chair as she sat down.

  Enrico looked around the room and nodded to several gentle-men of his acquaintance. A waiter appeared a few minutes later, automatically delivering a plate of hors d'oeuvres; a Johnnie Walker Black with two ice cubes and a little water for Mallin; and a gin fizz for Maria-Teresa.

  The waiter barely had time to prepare Mallin's drink when Alejandro Kertiz appeared. Kertiz was a lawyer with a pencil-line mustache and a taste for flashy clothing. His Mi¤a was cut from the same bolt of cloth. Her clothing was too tight, too revealing, and she apparently applied her lipstick with a shovel.

  Enrico Mallin did not like Alejandro Kertiz. His grandmother- perhaps even his mother-was probably a Mi¤a. You don't need a good family to be a successful lawyer, just a devious mind and a complete lack of morals. Mallin avoided Kertiz whenever pos-sible. He certainly did not want to give the impression that he and Kertiz were anything more than casual acquaintances.

  "My dear Enrico," Kertiz began. "Would there be room for us with you? The place is jammed."

  "I would be honored," Mallin said.

  The two sat down after Kertiz's Mi¤a leaned across the table to kiss Maria-Teresa's cheek.

  "I was hoping to run into you," Kertiz said, and started look-ing around for a waiter.

  Even the waiters recognize you for what you are and try to ignore you.

  By snapping his fingers so loudly and so often that everyone in the room was looking their way, Kertiz finally attracted the attention of a waiter, and grandly ordered "whatever Se¤or Mal-lin and the Se¤orita are having, plus a Dewar's White Label, doble, with soda, for the Se¤orita and myself."

  Good manners require that I protest and tell the waiter to put that on my bill. To hell with him. Let him buy his own whiskey. On the other hand, if I permit him to buy me a whiskey, I am indebted to him.

  "Put that on my bill, por favor," Mallin ordered.

  Kertiz waited until the waiter delivered the drinks, then said, "Corazonita,"-Little Heart-"why don't you go powder your nose and take Se¤or Mallin's little friend with you? I wish to discuss something in confidence with him."

  The young women left the table.

  "She's so very attractive," Kertiz said, obviously referring to Maria-Teresa, and then added, "Pity."

  "Yes, I think she is," Mallin said. "What do you mean, 'pity'?"

  "None of them-sadly-seem able to deny themselves the at-tentions of a young man," Kertiz said. He reached into his pocket, produced a brownish envelope, and handed it to Mallin.

  There was a photo inside. It showed Maria-Teresa standing by the railing of the canal across from the English Yacht Club at El Tigre. She was holding the hand of a dark-skinned young man.

  His back was toward the camera; his face could not be seen, but Mallin could see his dark skin, and that he was touching Maria-Teresa's face with his hand.

  Another goddamned Italian! Mallin thought furiously. A ste-vedore from La Boca, or a vegetable salesman, all dressed up in his one suit of "good" clothes.

  "I took my family out to El Tigre yesterday," Kertiz said. "To the Yacht Club. You know that my wife's grandfather was one of the founding members?"

  "I had heard something like that," Mallin said.

  While your grandmother was a Mi¤a.

  "And I had the camera with me, a Leica I-C, with a shutter speed of one one-thousandth of a second. With the new American film and the Leica, one can take photographs with practically no light."

  "Fascinating!"

  How dare the ungrateful little bitch do this to me!

  "I wasn't sure at first that it was actually your little friend, but I took the shot anyway, and I developed the film.... I have my own laboratory, I think you know, complete in every detail."

  "How nice for you."

  "And I examined the negatives, and then made an enlargement, so I could tell for sure."

  "It is her cousin Angelo," Mallin said. "I know the boy well. He works in her father's restaurant."

  "Oh, I am so happy to hear that," Kertiz said, making it quite clear that he thought that possibility was remote indeed. "I would hate to think that she does not find satisfa
ction with you, my friend."

  "May I have this?" Mallin asked.

  "Of course. I made it for you."

  "Muchas gracias."

  "De nada."

  Soon after the girls returned to the table, without the manners to excuse himself, Kertiz jumped up and walked across the room to invite himself to sit with another gentleman and his Mi¤a. A minute or so after that, he rather imperiously waved for his Corazonita to join him.

  Of course, you sonofabitch. You accomplished at my table what you set out to do. Rub this disloyal bitch's philandering in my face.

  "I didn't think to ask, Teresa," Mallin said when they were alone. "Did you have a pleasant Sunday?"