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“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Major Naylor. Welcome to the Alamo.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Naylor said.
“A somewhat delicate matter has come up, Doña Alicia,” General Stevens said.
“Is that so?”
“Allan, Major Naylor, has the details.”
Doña Alicia smiled and looked at Naylor expectantly.
Jesus Christ, what happened to “let me do the talking” and “put a cork in your mouth”?
“The thing is, ma’am,” Naylor began, hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“We have reason to believe that Mr. Castillo has a son in Germany,” Naylor said.
She looked at him for a moment without a change of expression.
“Somehow, I suspect you are talking of my late son, Jorge,” she said, evenly, “rather than my husband.”
Jesus Christ, Naylor thought, how fucking dumb can one major be?
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“And how did this come to your attention?” she asked.
“Ma’am, I’m stationed in Germany. In Fulda. The boy’s mother went to my wife, and my commanding officer’s wife . . .”
“Major Naylor is referring to Colonel Frederick Lustrous, Doña Alicia,” General Stevens said. “I know him well. He’s a very fine officer.”
“I see,” Doña Alicia said. “You were saying, Major?”
“Frau Gossinger . . .”
“Being the child’s mother?” Doña Alicia interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am. The women are friends. And Colonel Lustrous and Frau Gossinger’s late father were friends.”
“And therefore you believe this . . . Frau Gossinger?”
“Yes, ma’am. And we know that the boy and Mr. Castillo . . . your late son . . . have the same blood type.”
“I don’t think that’s conclusive proof of paternity, is it?”
“No, ma’am, it is not,” Naylor admitted.
“This . . . would have had to be more than a dozen years ago?”
“Yes, ma’am. The boy is twelve.”
“Do you have any idea why she brought this up now? Twelve years after the fact?”
“She is terminally ill, Mrs. Castillo,” Naylor said.
“I don’t suppose you would have a photograph of the child, would you?”
