?
??That’s right, and for God’s sake, darling, let me handle that!”
“Yes, dear.”
Doña Claudia Carzino-Cormano received Señor and Señora Frade in her dressing gown, explaining that their very welcome visit was unexpected, and that she had decided to retire early.
Then she looked at them expectantly.
Alicia, also in her dressing gown, came into the room looking very frightened.
“You should have stayed in bed,” Claudia said, and turned to Clete and Dorotéa. “She’s got some sort of influenza. This morning she was nauseous.”
“Mother, for God’s sake.”
“Alicia,” Clete said. “Peter’s on his way to Argentina.”
“Oh, thank God!” Alicia said, and started to weep.
“Exactly what is going on around here?” Claudia demanded suspiciously. “I’m pleased to hear that Peter’s coming back, but couldn’t you have telephoned the news? Or wouldn’t it have waited until morning?”
“Tía Claudia, there’s something Alicia’s been trying to find a way to tell you,” Dorotéa said.
[FOUR]
El Palomar Airfield
Buenos Aires
1640 30 May 1943
Clete was sitting in the cockpit of the Lodestar. One of the two speakers of his headset was on one ear, allowing him to listen to radio traffic; the other ear was free, so he could converse with the student sitting in the right seat.
He was functioning as an Instructor Pilot, and loving the role, because his student was not only attentive and an obviously quick learner, but absolutely adorable as well.
And then he heard what he was waiting to hear: “El Palomar, Lufthansa Six Two Nine.”
“Darling, put your cans on,” Clete ordered.
“‘Cans’?” Dorotéa parroted, obviously amused at the term; but she put the earphones quickly over her head. Her husband thought her expression was priceless.
“Lufthansa Six Two Nine, this is El Palomar.”
“El Palomar, Lufthansa Six Two Nine is at two thousand meters sixty kilometers south of you, over the River Plate. Request approach and landing instructions.”
“Lufthansa Six Two Nine, El Palomar. Permission to approach El Palomar on present course is granted. Descend to one thousand meters. Report when twenty kilometers from the field.”
“El Palomar Six Two Nine. Understand and will comply. Beginning descent at this time.”
Two minutes later, Lufthansa Six Two Nine called again. “El Palomar, Six Two Nine. At one thousand meters. Due north. Indicating four hundred kilometers. Estimate maybe twenty-five kilometers from your station.”
“Six Two Nine, Palomar, continue your approach,” the tower said.
“Oh, shit!” Don Cletus Frade said.
Dorotéa looked at him with concern. He pointed out the cockpit window.
El Coronel Bernardo Martín and Manuel Lascano were walking across the tarmac toward them. Both were in uniform. Leica 35-mm cameras hung from their necks.