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“El Coronel Frade?” the young man asked incredulously.

“No,” Clete chuckled, “el Teniente Frade. El Coronel is my father.”

The young man bowed and clicked his heels.

“Mucho gusto, Teniente. Yo soy el Capitán Hans-Peter Freiherr von Wachtstein, de la Luftwaffe.”

Holy shit! This must be the guy who brought the body from Germany. And you told him you were a lieutenant. Brilliant, Frade, fucking brilliant! He speaks Spanish perfectly.

“Señor, please, Capitán. I am no longer a lieutenant. Better yet, please call me Clete.”

“I’m called Peter,” von Wachtstein said, offering his hand. “Am I in your chair?”

“Sit down,” Clete said.

“The lady who runs this place told me to make myself at home. So she asked if it would be all right if she went to evening mass,” Peter said. “I took the liberty of coming down here and playing the phonograph, and helping myself to the cognac. Was that all right?”

“The cognac is a fine idea. Give me a minute to take my things to my room, and I’ll join you.”

“Let me help you.”

“Not necessary.”

“I would like to.”

“Thank you.”

Peter followed Clete back into the reception foyer and picked up the second “wooden” box.

“Delightful,” he said, admiring the straw chickens, ducks, and fishes. “

For your children?”

“I have no children that I know of,” Clete said as they stepped into the elevator.

“I have none that I acknowledge,” Peter replied.

They smiled at each other.

“I was drinking when I bought these,” Clete said. “At the time it seemed like a splendid idea.”

Peter chuckled.

“Señora Pellano has a herd of grandchildren,” Clete said. “They will not go to waste.”

“How nice for the grandchildren.”

They put the “wooden” boxes inside the door to Clete’s apartment, then made a second trip with his luggage, and finally returned to the library.

“It’s a beautiful and unusual, house,” Peter observed as Clete helped himself to the cognac.

“To your health, Peter,” Clete said, raising his glass.

“And yours, Clete,” Peter replied in English.

“The house was built by my granduncle Guillermo,” Clete said, and went on to relate the history of Uncle Bill and the house.

It’ll give me a chance to decide how to handle this, he thought. I am obviously in the presence of mine enemy.


Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Honor Bound Thriller