Empire and Honor

by W. E. B Griffin

  “Yes, barkeep, I will have a little of that,” Frade said. “You won’t.”

  “I won’t? Why?”

  “How much have you had so far?” Frade said.

  “Why do I think you have a reason for asking?”

  “Because you have a suspicious nature,” Frade said. “But I’ll give you a hint: Jimmy doesn’t get any either.”

  “We’re going flying? Tonight?”

  “Congratulations! You have just won the cement bicycle and an all-expenses-paid tour of downtown Mendoza.”

  “I presume,” Cletus Marcus Howell said, “that when you’re through being clever, you will tell us what happened to the guy in the truck.”

  “Certainly,” Clete replied. “After an absolutely brilliant interrogation by General Martín . . .”

  “Yes, it was,” General Nervo agreed. “He should really consider a career in intelligence.”

  “Or maybe becoming a Jesuit,” Clete said. “They’re always trying to get people to confess their sins.”

  “I don’t know if he could handle that,” Nervo said. “The obedience and poverty that goes with it, maybe. But the chastity?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Cletus Marcus Howell exploded.

  “You both will go to hell for such mockery,” Father Welner said.

  “Sorry,” Clete said. “As I was saying, Captain O’Reilley fessed up. More important, he’s going to confess all—all including that the villain behind the surveillance of Casa Montagna and the ambush on Route 60 is el Coronel Hans Klausberger. And more important than that, he’s going to tell my Tío Juan all about it just as soon as we can get him to Buenos Aires. Him and our Jesuit.”

  “Tonight?” Doña Dorotea asked.

  “Just as soon as we can round up half a dozen Húsares to go with them.”

  “And the purpose of telling Colonel Perón is . . . ?” the old man asked.

  “To keep his attention away from what we’re doing down south until after we do it.”

  “And why is Jimmy going along?” Marjie asked.

  “This is Argentina, Squirt,” Clete said, “where women are not allowed to ask questions.”

  “Screw you, Cletus,” Marjie said.

  “This woman, Cletus,” Martha began, paused, then said, “My God! I can’t believe you—either of you—said what you did. But this woman asks questions wherever she damned well pleases. Cletus, why is Jimmy flying, not you?”

  “Because if I go to Buenos Aires, I’ll have to deal with my Tío Juan. And because Jimmy needs the practice.”

  “Practice for what?” Marjie asked.

  Clete didn’t have to answer the question. Enrico Rodríguez came into the bar.

  “The men are in the station wagons, Don Cletus.”

  “Let’s go, guys,” Clete ordered.

  “Hansel will need a change of clothes,” Doña Alicia said.

  “No, he won’t,” Clete said. “As soon as he unloads and arranges for one—or, better, two—SAA Lodestars to come here, he’ll be coming back.”

  “Why more airplanes?” the old man asked.

  “I have a hunch we’re going to need them down south,” Clete said.

  —

  Doña Alicia, Doña Dorotea, and Martha Howell went out onto the veranda to see their men off with a kiss.

  So did Marjie.

  “Hey, Mom,” Marjie said. “Watch me piss Clete off!”

  “What did you say?”

  Marjie walked quickly to Jimmy, grabbed his ears, pulled his face to hers, kissed him wetly on the mouth, and said, “Have a nice flight, Jimmy!”

  “I’ll be a sonofabitch!” Clete said. “The Squirt is nuts!”

  “Yeah,” Marjie said.

  XIV

  [ONE]

  El Plumerillo Airfield

  Mendoza, Mendoza Province, Argentina

  0810 22 October 1945

  As the red Lodestar reached the end of its landing roll, Second Lieutenant James D. Cronley Jr., who was sitting in the left seat, turned to Hans-Peter von Wachtstein, who was sitting in the right seat, and announced, “Well, Hansel, as Clete likes to say, it would seem that we have cheated death again.”

  “One, you are not Cletus. And, two, I don’t recall giving you permission to call me Hansel,” von Wachtstein said with a smile. “But that aside, that was a nice landing. Not as smooth as one of my own, of course, but just as smooth as Cletus ever makes. What’s this business about you hating to fly?”

  “I hate to fly alone,” Jimmy said, turning the Lodestar onto the taxiway. “I refuse to fly alone. But as long as I have someone like you sitting in the other seat, I’m Lucky Charlie Lindbergh.”

  “What’s that all about?”

  “Very simple. I acknowledge my cowardice.”

  Von Wachtstein shook his head, and then, pointing, said, “There they are.”

  Cletus Frade and Enrico Rodríguez were standing in front of one of the hangars.

  —

  Eighteen ex–Húsares de Pueyrredón, wearing SAA security uniforms and carrying a variety of weapons—mostly Thompsons—and canvas bags, got off the Lodestar. They formed ranks as automatically as if they were still on active duty with the Húsares de Pueyrredón. Von Wachtstein and Cronley disembarked last.

  One of the SAA security men saluted Clete, and said, “Mi Coronel.”

  Clete returned the salute.

  “Welcome to Mendoza,” he called out. “Suboficial Mayor Rodríguez has breakfast for you in the hangar. Bread and water. No wine.”

  There were the expected chuckles from the group.

  The man who had saluted Clete went to Enrico, hugged him, then motioned for the others to follow him into the hangar.

  “Are the other planes far behind?” Cletus asked Jimmy and Hansel. “How many of them are there?”

  Jimmy shook his head.

  “Zero. Zilch. Zip. In other words, none.”

  “What the hell?”

  “There were no available aircraft, Cletus,” von Wachtstein said. “Half a dozen were down for maintenance until this afternoon, and the others were all scheduled. And since they weren’t going to be needed, Martín’s pilots—the ones who are BIS—took the day off. The only way we could have gotten one Lodestar, much less two, was to cancel a scheduled flight or flights—and they weren’t about to do that without a reason, and I didn’t think you would want us to give one.”

  “Damn, that’s bad news,” Clete said. “Okay, let’s have all the bad news. What about Welner, O’Reilley, and my Tío Juan?”

  Von Wachtstein looked at his watch.

  “They have been together for the last ten minutes.”

  “Where?”

  “Perón’s apartment on Arenales. Jimmy said we didn’t know (a) where he would be going to work—the Casa Rosada, the Edificio Libertador, or the Labor Ministry—and (b) if we could get into any of those places with your guys.”

  “How do you know he was in his apartment?”

  “Jimmy’s idea. We went into the lobby and used the house phone—”

  “At two o’clock in the morning?” Clete interrupted.

  Jimmy grinned.

  “Actually, oh-two-thirty, Clete. I called, acting like an angry neighbor, and told him to turn down the volume on his radio. Your Tío Juan blew his cork. It was him, all right. So we left Father Welner, O’Reilley, and your guys there, then went back to Jorge Frade and got in the red Lodestar. At oh-eight-hundred, they knocked on his door.”

  “The concierge let them in?”

  “It’s hard to say no to a priest, Clete,” Jimmy said. “Even more so if he has six guys with Thompsons standing behind him. The concierge and Perón’s security detail—two guys—were very cooperative. They knew who Welner is.”

  “How’s Dieter?” von Wachtstein asked.

  “We’re going to see him after I show you the bad news from Estancia Condor,” Frade said, and motioned for them to go in the hangar.

  —

  The hangar was crow
ded with soldiers. Too many to count, but Jimmy guessed about forty. Plus of course the eighteen ex–Húsares de Pueyrredón they had brought from Buenos Aires.

  “General Martin,” Frade explained drily, “was able to persuade the commanding officer of the Húsares de Pueyrredón that the BIS needed half a squadron of troopers for an unspecified classified mission.”

  Master Sergeant Sigfried Stein was sitting at a table on which he had set up a Collins 7.2 and a SIGABA. The SIGABA’s electric typewriter was clattering.

  “More from down there, Siggie?” Frade asked.

  “No. But I thought a printout would be more useful than the tape.”

  He pointed to the coiled strip of paper, which was the first product of an incoming message.

  The typewriter stopped clattering.

  Stein took two sheets of paper from the machine and handed them to Frade, who handed them to von Wachtstein.

  “Read over his shoulder, Jimmy,” Frade said. “Or take the tape.”

  Cronley, who knew what a pain in the ass reading from the narrow, fragile tape was, looked over von Wachtstein’s shoulder. Frade picked up the tape and started to read it again.

  * * *

  SUBJECT: SITUATION REPORT 0705 22 OCT 1945

  TO: GENERAL DE BRIGADE B. MARTIN, BIS

  AS OF 0615 22 OCT THE UNDERSIGNED HAS ASSUMED CONTROL OF ESTANCIO CONDOR AND THE RADIO RELAY STATION HEREON.

  IT WAS NECESSARY TO PLACE UNDER ARREST ONE (1) CAPTAIN, TWO (2) LIEUTENANTS AND SIX (6) OTHER RANKS OF THE 10TH MOUNTAIN REGIMENT SIGNALS COMPANY PLUS TWO (2) LIEUTENANTS AND TWENTY-FOUR (24) OTHER RANKS OF THE 10TH MOUNTAIN SERVING AS A PROTECTIVE DETACHMENT HERE INASMUCH AS THEY REFUSED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE AUTHORITY OF THE UNDERSIGNED.

  THE 10TH MOUNTAIN CAPTAIN, AFTER INTERROGATION, TOLD THE UNDERSIGNED THAT EL CORONEL KLAUSBERGER HAD TELEPHONED HIM AT APPROXIMATELY 2300 HOURS 21 OCTOBER TO ALERT HIM TO THE POSSIBILITY THAT UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL WERE LIKELY TO APPEAR AT ESTANCIO CONDOR WITHIN THE NEXT DAY OR TWO, WHEREUPON HE WAS TO PLACE THEM UNDER ARREST AND REPORT THE EVENT TO HIM. KLAUSBERGER ALSO STATED THAT REINFORCEMENTS ARE ON THE WAY BUT DID NOT STATE THE STRENGTH OF SUCH REINFORCEMENTS OR WHEN THEY CAN BE EXPECTED.

  THIS DIFFICULT SITUATION IS EXACERBATED BY OUR STRENGTH, WHICH IS NOW THIRTEEN (13) ARMED CIVILIANS, ALL FORMER MEMBERS OF THE HÚSARES DE PUEYRREDÓN AND SIX (6) UNARMED AND UNTRAINED MECHANICS AND DRIVERS, ALL EMPLOYEES OF SAA. THE LATTER HAVE NOW BEEN ARMED WITH WEAPONS SEIZED FROM 10TH MOUNTAIN PERSONNEL BUT THEIR ABILITY TO USE THEM EFFECTIVELY IS AT BEST QUESTIONABLE.

  ON THE MARCH HERE THE UNDERSIGNED AGAIN ENCOUNTERED RESISTANCE TO MY AUTHORITY WHEN ATTEMPTING TO RESERVE THE AVIATION FUEL STOCKS AT THE TRELEW NAVAL AIRFIELD.

  TO ENSURE THAT THE AVIATION FUEL STOCKS WOULD BE AVAILABLE AND TO PREVENT THE NAVY PERSONNEL OF THE TRELEW AIRFIELD FROM NOTIFYING THEIR HIGHER HEADQUARTERS OF OUR PRESENCE (AND OUR REQUISITION OF FUEL) IT WAS DEEMED NECESSARY TO BOTH SHUT DOWN THE TELEPHONE AND RADIO COMMUNICATION AT THE FIELD AND TO CONFINE THE NAVY PERSONNEL TO THE BASE. TO ACCOMPLISH THAT IT WAS NECESSARY TO LEAVE THE HÚSARES DE PUEYRREDÓN MILITARY DETACHMENT OF ONE (1) SENIOR SERGEANT AND SIX (6) OTHER RANKS AT TRELEW. THE SHUTDOWN OF COMMUNICATIONS WILL PREVENT BOTH YOU AND THE UNDERSIGNED FROM CONTACTING THE SERGEANT IN CHARGE.

  SENOR GRÜNER STATES THAT HE CAN HAVE THE STORCH AIRCRAFT READY FOR FLIGHT BY 0800 AND THE PIPER CUB READY BY 1000. HE FURTHER STATES THAT BOTH AIRCRAFT CAN BE OPERATED FROM THE TERRAIN HERE. IT IS NOTED THAT GRÜNER IS THE ONLY PILOT HERE AND HE HAS NEVER FLOWN A CUB, ALTHOUGH HE FEELS HE CAN DO SO.

  GRÜNER FURTHER STATES THAT THE TERRAIN HERE IS SIMILAR TO THAT HE ENCOUNTERED IN RUSSIA -- THAT IS, WHILE THE ICE CAP THEREON WILL SUPPORT BOTH THE STORCH AND THE CUB IN LANDING AND TAKEOFF OPERATIONS AND PROBABLY -- EMPHASIS PROBABLY -- SUPPORT LANDING AND TAKEOFF OF LODESTAR AIRCRAFT, IT IS PROBABLE -- EMPHASIS PROBABLE -- THAT ONCE STOPPED THE WEIGHT OF LODESTAR AIRCRAFT WILL CAUSE IT TO BREAK THROUGH THE ICE CAP, THEREBY RENDERING IT IMMOBILE.

  DIRECTION REQUESTED.

  RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED.

  CARLOS HABANZO

  CORONEL, BIS

  * * *

  “My God!” von Wachtstein said.

  “Well, if Nervo wanted to see what this Klausberger character was going to do when he learned that O’Reilley had been bagged, I think he succeeded,” Jimmy said. “How soon can he get his reinforcements to Estancia Condor?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Clete said, “but they can get there quicker than we can get these guys down there by road. San Martín de los Andes is a lot closer to Estancia Condor than we are.” He paused and shook his head. “Even before we got this, my plan was to fly our reinforcements to Trelew, and move them by truck to the estancia. Then you showed up with the wonderful news that there will be no more Lodestars.”

  “What are you going to do, Clete?” Jimmy asked.

  “Following the famous Cletus Frade theory that it’s better to do something, anything, when you don’t have any idea at all what to do, I’m going to have the Húsares and my people start preparing for a road march. Find some trucks, fuel cans, food, et cetera. Then, as soon as we get back from seeing Dieter, you and Hansel are going to fly the Húsares captain and a dozen guys to Trelew, and play it by ear.”

  [TWO]

  The Hospital of the Little Sisters of Saint Pilar

  Mendoza, Mendoza Province, Argentina

  0850 22 October 1945

  Dieter von und zu Aschenburg was propped up in the hospital bed when Mother Superior came in his room followed by Clete, Hans, and Jimmy.

  “You have five minutes with him,” she announced. “Then I’m going to give him something for his pain.”

  “You haven’t given him anything yet?” Frade blurted.

  “He said he was going to wait until he heard from you, Cletus. I now understand why you’re all such good friends. You’re all crazy.”

  “What do we hear from Willi?” Dieter asked.

  Clete handed him the printout from the SIGABA.

  “And there’s more good news,” Clete said, when he’d finished reading it. “We don’t have any airplanes to reinforce Habanzo.”

  “What are you going to do?” Dieter asked.

  Frade told him.

  “My God!” Dieter said.

  “Dieter,” Jimmy said, “tell me about the landing and takeoff rolls in snow and ice like that. Would a Lodestar break through the ice cap the moment it stopped rolling?”

  “Probably not,” Dieter said. “You’d probably have a couple of minutes before the ice cracked.”

  “Now the takeoff. For the sake of argument, a Lodestar is sitting someplace where it won’t, hasn’t, crashed through the ice.”

  “Where are you going with this, Jimmy?” Frade asked, half curious and half annoyed.

  The look changed to pure annoyance when Jimmy held up his hand to silence him and went on: “And suppose the Lodestar could move a couple of meters, maybe four or five meters”—he looked at Clete—“off the plywood, or similar substance, timbers, et cetera, on which it has been sitting. Would it then be going fast enough so that it wouldn’t crash through the ice and could begin its takeoff roll?”

  Von und zu Aschenburg considered the question a long moment before replying.

  “If the Lodestar was sitting on the ‘plywood, or similar substance, timbers, et cetera’ and the ‘plywood, or similar substance, timbers, et cetera’ was at the threshold of the runway, you probably could.”

  Cronley knew he was being mocked and smiled.

  “You don’t have a runway,” Frade said.

  “I’d be willing to give that a shot,” von Wachtstein said.

  “Silence, please,” Jimmy said. “I’m having one of my epiphanies, and it’s not quite complete.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Clete said, in disgust.

  “Okay, epiphany complete,” Jimmy said, perhaps a minute later. He turned to von Wachtstein. “No, Hansel, as much as I would like to see you, rather than me, trying, you will be o
therwise occupied.”

  “Doing what?” von Wachtstein asked.

  “Flying the red Lodestar. Pay attention. What do we need at Estancia Condor? Primarily, someone to seize that atomic crap in the name of the United States government, and we have already decided that has to be me.

  “We also need somebody to fly the Piper Cub to help find the submarine and said atomic crap supposedly aboard. Which I can do.

  “We also need reinforcements for Colonel Habanzo as the Apaches are about to attack his wagon train and will scalp everybody.

  “So here’s the plan. We load as many of the real Húsares as will fit into Clete’s red Lodestar, and as many of Clete’s guys as will fit into the shot-up, no-radio-or-navigation-equipment SAA Lodestar. Hansel, flying the red Lodestar, will lead me in the Lodestar with no radio or nav equipment to Trelew, which is important as I never heard that name until about thirty minutes ago and have no idea where it is.

  “At Trelew, we unload the real Húsares. We unload ten of Clete’s people from the shot-up Lodestar and replace them with a like number of real Húsares. We refuel the aircraft, and Hansel leads me to Estancia Condor, where . . . I will crash and burn trying to land where my common sense tells me I shouldn’t be landing.”

  Von und zu Aschenburg laughed.

  “There will be no monument to my heroism,” Jimmy went on, “as the Russians will arrive the next day, seize the uranium oxide, and use it to make atomic bombs with which they will make New York City, Buenos Aires, and Midland, Texas, disappear in mushroom-shaped nuclear clouds—all of which will clearly be my fault.”

  Von und zu Aschenburg laughed again.

  “Stop being a comedian, for God’s sake,” he said. “Every time I laugh, it hurts.”

  “That does it,” Mother Superior said from the door. “Everybody out!”

  Jimmy looked at Clete.

  “Well, Colonel, sir?”

  “You’ll have to take von Dattenberg with you,” Frade said. “I have a gut feeling he’ll be useful.”

  “Jimmy,” Dieter said, “the trick is to make a very gradual descent as slow as you can, so there’s no heavy shock to the ice cap. Glide it in like a feather.”