And, of course, Claudia’s daughters were not prepared to leave when they arrived. Argentina, while very unlike Mexico, had mañana in common with the republic immediately south of the Rio Grande.
“Since you have nothing to do in Buenos Aires,” his father said cheerfully, “I’m sure you won’t mind waiting for the girls to finish their packing while Claudia and I drive ahead. The girls will show you the way.”
“Fine,” Clete said.
The trouble was that he had something to do in Buenos Aires. He had to get in touch with Nestor and tell him he had found the Reine de la Mer and that he could forget taking her out by planting a charge against her hull. It couldn’t be done that way. And since he could think of no way to do it himself, that would be up to Nestor to figure out.
On the flight back to the ranch, inspired by an Errol Flynn Battling the Dirty Nazis movie he vaguely remembered, he considered sneaking aboard the ship, overpowering the crew, placing scuttling charges, and then slipping away.
It worked for Errol Flynn. But, he finally remembered—shooting down the only idea he had been able to come up with—that ship in the movie was tied up at a wharf, not anchored twenty-odd miles offshore.
But of course he could not tell his father that, so he smiled and waited patiently for the girls to put their goddamned gear together. He occupied himself by putting the convertible top down, because he would no longer be swallowing his father’s dust.
When she finally came out to the car, Isabela Carzino-Cormano insisted on riding in the backseat. Fine gentleman that he was, knowing that riding in the backseat of a convertible going as fast as he intended to drive was no fun, he put the roof up.
That situation lasted perhaps two miles, until Isabela tapped him imperiously on the shoulder and asked him if he would be good enough to please raise the windows. The wind was mussing her hair and she was getting dusty.
That was the last word Isabela spoke before they reached Buenos Aires. It was hotter than hell in the Buick with the roof up.
Alicia Carzino-Cormano tried to make conversation. “Now tell the truth, Cletus,” she asked him, “aren’t you really just a poco interested in Dorotea Mallín?” Watching them play tennis, she saw him looking at her in a certain way.
Actually, Alicia, you saw me looking down her dress and at her crotch, because I am a perverted dirty young man.
“Alicia, don’t let your imagination run away with you. And since you’re so curious, there is a young woman in America I’m involved with.”
He was glad to get rid of both of them at his father’s house on Avenida Coronel Díaz and drive quickly to the Guest House.
One of the maids greeted him at the door, then asked him if he would like her to park the Buick.
Thank you, no. Sweetheart. You are probably a worse driver than my father.
“No, gracias. I’m going to leave it right where it is.”
His answer brought him a lecture about petty crime on the streets of Buenos Aires. She assured him that if he left the car outside overnight, in the morning there would be nothing left but the windshield, and perhaps not even that.
Getting the car into the garage also posed a problem. They couldn’t find the keys. Señora Pellano would of course know where the keys were, the maid told him, but Señora Pellano was unfortunately at the house on Avenida Coronel Díaz. They wound up telephoning Señora Pellano and asking where the keys were.
Finally, stopping off at the kitchen to load a silver champagne cooler with ice and two bottles of cerveza, Clete was able to take the elevator to Uncle Guillermo’s playroom and get on the horn to Nestor. Predictably, Nestor was not thrilled to hear from him.
“I saw that boat you were talking about, the one you’re thinking of buying? Reine de la Mer,” Clete said.
“I’d really rather hear it from you in person, Clete. Why don’t you come here?”
“Certainly.”
“You have your car?”
“Yeah.”
“We can take a ride.”
“I’m on my way,” Clete said.
[FIVE]
Jasper C. Nestor came out of his house and got in the Buick. As soon as he was seated, Clete said, “There’s a Fiat parked down the street that was parked across the street from the Guest House when I drove out of the garage.”
“Well, they can’t hear us as long as we’re driving. You implied that you know where the Reine de la Mer is?”