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It was American, a Hamilton chronograph, an aviator’s wristwatch. Cletus Frade had one exactly like it, and Dorotéa had noticed that, just as Alicia had noticed Peter’s. Cletus had told Dorotéa that he’d stolen his from the U.S. Marine Corps, and Dorotéa wasn’t sure if that was the truth or not. Peter had told Alicia that he had “found” his American watch, and obviously hadn’t wanted to talk about it, so she hadn’t pressed him.

“It’s six and a half minutes after four,” Peter announced indignantly.

That was the German in him, Alicia thought. She would have said “it’s four” or “a little after four,” not “six and a half minutes after four.”

“I have to go to the house,” she said. “We’re going to Estancia Santo Catalina this morning.”

“What time this morning?”

“Probably in time to have a late lunch at the estancia,” she said, and computed the time. “Leave Buenos Aires at eleven.” She paused. “You are coming out for the weekend?”

“Unless the Ambassador or Gradny-Sawz finds something for me to do,” he replied, and then asked, “So why do you have to leave now? Is Mama sitting up in the foyer waiting for you?”

“She’s sound asleep, but she will know five minutes after she wakes what time I came in. The maid will tell her when she brings her coffee.”

“So if the maid tells her you came home at half past six? Half past seven? What’s the difference?”

“The roof garden at the Alvear closes at half past four. She knows that. She will expect me to be home half an hour after that.”

“That’s,” he consulted the watch again, “fifty-two minutes from now.”

“Yes,” Alicia said, and felt herself blushing again. “I didn’t say I had to leave this instant. Just very soon.”

“Oh, baby!”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can. I’m a fighter pilot.”

Her smile vanished.

“I wonder how often you’ve said that in the past,” she said.

“Once or twice, I admit—”

“Once or twice, hah!”

“Always before I met you,” he said.

“Do you think you’ll hear something today?” she asked.

“That was a quick change of subject,” he said.

“Do you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe today. Maybe not until next week.”

“And if they tell you to go to Germany?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” he said.

She felt tears form, and she was not quite able to suppress a sob.

“Honey, don’t do that,” Peter said.

“God, Peter, I’m so frightened!”

He put his arms around her.


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