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By God, Clete thought admiringly, that sounded like a Marine colonel.

“No, Sir. Permission granted.”

Graham stepped onto the deck. The Ensign saluted him. Graham returned the salute, then faced aft and saluted the national colors.

I don’t think you’re supposed to do that in civilian clothing, Clete thought. But what the hell!

He stepped aboard, saluted the Ensign, and then, facing aft, the national colors. He was surprised at his emotional reaction.

“How may I help the Colonel, Sir?”

“We want to see the Captain,” Graham said.

“Sir, the Captain is on the bridge. I will escort you. You may return to your post, Sergeant.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

The Ensign led them to the bridge. A lieutenant commander, in a sleeveless white shirt and shorts, was seated in a nicely upholstered chair mounted on a pedestal, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Sir,” the Ensign said, “these officers wish to see you.”

“Good morning, Captain. I am Colonel A. F. Graham, USMC,” Graham said.

The Captain got out of his chair. “I’m Commander Jernigan,” the Captain said. “How may I help you, Sir?”

“Captain, as I understand your orders, you were, Direction of the President, ordered to proceed to Buenos Aires at maximum speed consistent with fuel exhaustion, there to hold yourself prepared to receive further orders, to be delivered by an individual who would identify himself by uttering a certain phrase.”

“The Colonel will understand that I cannot comment on a classified order.”

“Complete cooperation, Captain.”

The Captain smiled.

“That’s the phrase. I’m at your disposal, Colonel. What can the Alfred Thomas do for you?”

“I chose the phrase.” Graham smiled back. “I thought it would remove any possible misunderstanding.”

“The orders, Sir, would be hard to misunderstand. What you want, you get.”

“Captain, this is Lieutenant Cletus H. Frade, USMCR. He flew Buffaloes at Midway and Wildcats from Guadalcanal. He is down here on a mission of great importance, and our mission is to help him accomplish this. Do you understand?”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“My cabin, Sir. But in this weather, may I suggest the chart room? My cabin is stifling.”

“The chart room is fine,” Graham said.

“Let me recap all this,” Graham said. “You can, Captain, as you exit the Río de la Plata estuary, take soundings of Samborombón Bay. But, in your professional judgment, these won’t be of much use to the skipper of the…What’s the name again?”

“The Devil Fish, Sir.”

“…of the submarine Devil Fish, because the bay is so enormous, and the Reine de la Mer can be expected to move every day or so. So we won’t know where she is.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, but that’s the way I see it. If I had a couple of weeks, I could take soundings of the whole damned bay and come up with some decent charts. But I’ll have no more than six or eight hours,

and if I start maneuvering all over the bay, it will be damned obvious what I’m doing.”


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