“How did you find the United States?”
“Well, I set the compass on north-northwest, and eventually, there it was, right out in front of the airplane.”
The priest shook his head tolerantly.
“Things went well?”
“All the pilots of South American Airways now have their air transport rating, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“The problem of insurance has been resolved?”
“It’s a done deal,” Frade said.
“That’s good to hear.”
“Why do I have this feeling that, having beat around the bush long enough, you are about
to get to your real reason for coming over here?”
“I happened to be driving past your house on Avenida Libertador—”
“Ah-ha! And was that before or after your spies on the premises—”
“Getting right to the point, Cletus: Why did Juan Domingo Perón suddenly stop accepting your kind hospitality?”
“Now that you mention it, it probably had something to do with what I said to him.”
“And what was that?”
“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, what I said was, ‘One more thing, Tío Juan, you degenerate sonofabitch. You’re going to have to find someplace else for your little girls. I want you out of here by tomorrow.’ Or words to that effect.”
“You didn’t!” Welner blurted.
“Tell him, Enrico.”
The priest looked at Enrico, who nodded.
“Are you out of your mind, Cletus?” Welner asked.
“Not so far as I know. I confess to being a little annoyed with my godfather at the time.”
“About what?”
“Well, just before I said that, he pointed a pistol at me. I get very annoyed when people point pistols at me. And so does Enrico. For a couple of seconds there, I thought Enrico’s shotgun might go off and cause a tragic accident.”
Welner again looked at Enrico, who again nodded.
“What set this off?” Welner asked.
“Well—are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Saved by the belle,” Frade then said.
“Excuse me?”
“Belle with an ‘e’ at the end. As in: ‘Belle on horseback.’ Drink your wine, Father, before the posse gets here and the sheriff tries to shut us off before dinner.”