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“Thank you,” Frade said.
Besides, if Len went on the B-24, that would put both film cassettes on the same plane, and that would not be a good idea.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Frade?”
“I can’t think of a thing, General.”
“If you’ll be with us tonight, perhaps we could have dinner.”
“That’s very kind of you, General, but just as soon as I see Mr. Fischer’s plane lift off, I’m going wheels-up myself back to Buenos Aires.”
“Sergeant!”
“Sir?”
“Have my car brought around to take these gentlemen to the field.”
As they walked across the tarmac to a USAAF Beechcraft C-45 Expeditor, Fischer smiled at Frade and said, accurately mimicking General Wallace’s somewhat nasal speech, “ ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Frade? Dinner, perhaps?’ ”
Frade chuckled.
“You really put that stuffy sonofabitch in your pocket,” Fischer said.
It wasn’t me, Frade thought.
It was that OSS badge that put Wallace in my pocket.
“I’m a Marine officer, Lieutenant,” Frade replied with a mock-serious tone. “Perhaps you should keep that in mind.” Then he smiled and, when Fischer smiled back, put out his hand.
“Thanks, Len. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“I’m a Signal Corps second lieutenant,” Fischer said, mimicking Frade’s tone. “Perhaps the major might want to keep that in mind.”
Clete laughed, then, surprising the both of them, they embraced in the Argentine manner—except neither kissed the other.
“I’ll see you around, Clete. And we’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah, we will.”
Frade punched Fischer in the arm, then watched as Fischer ducked through the small door of the small twin-engine aircraft.
Frade didn’t move as the Expeditor taxied to the end of the runway, ran up its engines, and took off. It wasn’t that he was that interested in watching the airplane take off. He was considering the fact that, once again, he was about to be a prick.
Fischer was under the impression that he was going back to the safety of Vint Hill Farms Station.
Tough luck, Len, ole buddy. I need you.
If not here right now, then kept on the shelf to be taken down and expended as needed.
[FIVE]
Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo Near Pila Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1810 22 July 1943
It was admittedly a little dark when Frade lined up the Piper Cub to land on the estancia runway, but not as dark as Doña Dorotea Mallín de Frade apparently thought it was. There were half a dozen vehicles lined up on the sides of the runway, their headlights illuminating the runway boundaries.
I could have made it in here no problem, but it’s really nice to know that Dorotea is really trying to take care of me.
As he taxied up to the hangar, he saw that Schultz’s Model A pickup was part of the improvised landing light system, and that Enrico was at the wheel of the Buick convertible and that Dorotea was at the wheel of the Horch.
