Death and Honor

“That was a long fucking time ago, Howard,” Clete said. “I’m a big boy now. The next time you say something like that to me, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth down your throat.”

Hughes assumed a boxing position. “Just a precaution, Major Frade, sir, in case you don’t take this as a compliment.”

“What?”

Hughes moved his fists and his feet around like a boxer.

Clete fought off the temptation to smile.

Hughes went on: “Boy, he’s really the old man’s grandson, ain’t he, Colonel Graham, sir?”

“Oh, shit,” Clete said, and laughed.

“I would take that as both a compliment and an apology, Clete,” Graham said.

“Still, I think I’d rather whip his ass,” Clete said, but he was smiling.

Graham, also smiling, asked, “Can we now get back to the spy business?”

“I’d much rather whip Howard’s ass,” Clete said.

“Be that as it may, Major Frade,” Graham said, “you were about to tell us why you think Perón wanted you to see what he had in his map case.”

Frade sipped at his glass, shrugged, then said, “There’s a lot of possibilities, but as absurd as this may sound, I think he might be trying to turn me.”

“That’s interesting,” Graham said. “Why would he want to do that?”

“He’s got all of his ducks in a row but me,” Clete said. “He’s the éminence grise behind the president now, and—”

“When I knew him he didn’t know what that meant,” Hughes said.

“God damn it, Howard!” Graham snapped. “Enough. And I mean it.”

Hughes threw up both hands in apology and surrender.

Clete looked at Hughes, shook his head, and went on, “—there’s no question in my mind that he wants to be president, and probably will be.”

“How much of a Nazi do you think he really is?” Hughes asked.

“I think he really believes that fascism, National Socialism, whatever, would bring some really needed efficiency to Argentina, but I don’t think he thinks the Germans are going to win the war any more than I do.”

“Really?” Graham asked softly.

“And I think the Germans have cut him in for a piece of the action in Operation Phoenix. I don’t know if he’s involved in the concentration camp inmate-ransoming operation or not. Or even if he knows about it.”

“Serious question, Clete,” Hughes said. “If you’re in his way, why doesn’t he take you out?”

“He’s my godfather. They take that seriously down there. That’s one reason. The second reason, probably, is that my father was very popular there, and if I were to get whacked, a lot of questions would be asked about who did it and why. Everybody knows the Germans had my father killed and had a shot at killing me. They’d be suspect. But if I had to bet, I’d bet on the godfather business. I think the sonofabitch really likes me.”

“But you don’t like him, right?” Hughes said. “ ‘The sonofabitch.’ Why?”

“For one thing, he’s a dirty old man.”

“How so?”

“He likes young girls.”

“So does Errol Flynn,” Hughes said. “He almost went to jail last year for diddling a couple of fifteen-year-olds. He’s still a good guy. What does it say in the Good Book? ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged’?”

“Tío Juan likes them younger. Like thirteen.”

“That’s a dirty old man,” Hughes agreed.

“Is that really it, Clete?” Graham asked. “You disapprove of his morals?”

“That’s part of it, certainly. I just don’t like him.”

“Your father did. And I’m sure he knew of the colonel’s proclivities.”

“Yeah, he knew. Enrico told me. Maybe it’s because he likes me. That makes me uncomfortable. I met the sonofabitch for the first time when I first went down there, and he treats me like the beloved nephew.”

“Or maybe the son he never had?” Graham pursued.

Clete considered that a moment, then said, “Well, maybe. Can we get off this subject? Tell me about Lindbergh and Yamamoto.”

“Roosevelt hates Lindbergh,” Hughes said. “Which may be—probably is— why he wants you to start an airline.”

“I don’t understand that at all,” Clete said.

“You want to tell him, Alex?”

“You tell him,” Graham said.

“Okay,” Hughes said. “Lindbergh was big in the America First business. They didn’t think we should get involved in a European war or, for that matter, with the Japs.”

“So was my grandfather an America Firster,” Clete said. “And so was Senator Taft. And Colonel McCormick, and a lot of other people. So what?”

“But Roosevelt couldn’t get Senator Taft. Or your grandfather. Or Colonel McCormick. Or, for that matter, me. But Lindbergh left himself wide open when he went to Germany. Göring gave him a medal, and Lindbergh said the Germans had the best air force in the world.”

“You’re saying Roosevelt thinks Lindbergh is a Nazi?” Clete asked incredulously.

“No, I don’t think that,” Graham said. “What I think is that Roosevelt likes to get revenge on people he thinks have crossed him. And he can take it out on Lindbergh. America First went out of business when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.”