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“The Argentine Navy?”

“Our Navy,” Ettinger said, and smiled when he saw Clete’s confusion. “I’ve been having long lunches in the dock area, trying to pick up anything I could overhear. Yesterday a Teniente of the Armada Argentina let a salesman from S.A.P. know that he—”

“What’s S.A.P.?”

“It stands for Servicios de Proveedores Asociados, literal translation, Associated Service Providers. They are actually ship victualers. Anyway, this Teniente was looking for a little gift in exchange for steering a little business toward the S.A.P. guy…specifically, providing fresh meat, fruits, and vegetables to a United States Navy destroyer, which will call at Buenos Aires over Christmas. The Alfred Thomas, DD-107.”

“You even know the name?” Clete said. “I’m impressed.”

“Her arrival here is probably classified SECRET,” Ettinger said. “It’s really true, Clete, that loose lips sink ships.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“I think we’re just showing the flag. To let the Argentines know that we control the seas down here, and all the Germans can do is sneak the odd submarine in and out of the Bay. Or maybe they just wanted to give the sailors aboard shore leave on Christmas. Or they have been running all over the Atlantic looking for German submarines and are out of food. Who knows?”

“A destroyer would have aboard the crystals you’re talking about?”

“Probably. If they did, could we get them?”

“I don’t know. If I ask Nestor, that’d be admitting I have the walkie-talkies; and he’d want them back. Let me think about it. In the meantime, you don’t let Nestor know that you have them.”

Ettinger smiled at him. “What radios?”

“We better not count on help from the Navy.”

“OK. Just a thought. Rigging a power supply for it will be no problem. All I’ll need is regular flashlight batteries, and some tape to hold them together.”

“You are a very clever fellow, aren’t you, Dave?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, mi Teniente.”

“I’ve got to go,” Clete said. “I’m on my way to pick up my car, and I have my father’s housekeeper waiting in the taxi. Christ, I almost for

got: You’re invited for dinner at Nestor’s. Drinks and dinner. Seven o’clock. He wants to know if you showed Klausner that declaration.”

“I did, and he doesn’t believe it. Damn him!”

“On the face of it, it’s incredible.”

“It shouldn’t be to Klausner,” Ettinger said bitterly. “Well, I’ll see you later, then?”

“No. I’m not going to be at Nestor’s. I’m going to my father’s ranch.”

“Really? What do you think of him now that you’ve met him? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“I really haven’t made my mind up,” Clete said. “His fangs and horns aren’t nearly as long as I have been led to expect.”

Ettinger chuckled.

“Thank you, David.”

Ettinger put out his hand.

“A sus órdenes, mi Teniente,” he said.

Clete left the apartment and went downstairs to Señora Pellano and the waiting taxi.

[THREE]


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