“Señor Cletus, Señor Nestor wishes to see you,” Señora Pellano announced, startling him—he hadn’t heard her come up.
“He’s here?”
“Sí, Señor. In the reception.”
What the hell does he want?
“Ask him to come up, please, Señora Pellano,” Clete said.
When, a minute or so later, he heard the sound of the elevator door opening, he took his booted feet off the railing and stood up and smiled at Jasper C. Nestor. The Spymaster was wearing a seersucker suit, and he was carrying a soft-brimmed straw hat in one hand and a package in the other.
“I’m glad I caught you at home, Clete,” Nestor said, thrusting the package at him. “A little housewarming gift.”
The package gurgled. It was booze of some kind.
“Thank you,” Clete said. “I’m a little disappointed, though, frankly.”
“How’s that?”
“From Humphrey Bogart movies, I had the idea that spies met in an alley in the tough part of town at midnight, not at someplace like the Belgrano Athletic Club. And I certainly didn’t expect the Spymaster to show up bearing a housewarming gift.”
He’d intended to be witty. From the strained smile on Nestor’s face, Clete saw he hadn’t been taken that way.
I will henceforth go easy on the humor.
“We’re not spies, Clete,” Nestor said after a moment. “We’re gentlemen. The FBI are the spies.”
“And not gentlemen?”
“Rarely, Clete, rarely. There is always an exception.”
Clete shook the package.
“Would you like a little of whatever this is? Or something else?”
“I would prefer one of those,” Nestor replied, indicating Clete’s beer. “If that would…”
Clete pushed the call button. They were all over the house. Granduncle Guillermo knew how to live.
Señora Pellano appeared immediately.
“Would you bring the Señor a beer, please? And a glass. Señor is a gentleman.”
“Actually, on a hot day, I rather like to drink from the bottle,” Nestor said, smiling, and then turned and gestured off the balcony. “Beautiful view from here.”
“It’s a beautiful house,” Clete said.
“And how kind of your father to make it available to you.”
“I thought so.”
“There are other advantages as well.”
“Such as?”
“It establishes you as the beloved son of el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade,” Nestor said. “That could prove very valuable.”
Clete nodded.