When he got there, he devoted his full attention to getting what he now thought of, almost fondly, as “the great big sonofabitch” back on the ground in one piece. It was less trouble than he expected.
As he approached the hangar, he saw that Uncle Humberto was waiting for him.
Does that mean he’s got a message from Peter?
He waved at him from the cockpit window, then went through the SHUT DOWN procedure, checking what he had done afterward with the Dash One.
“Benito,” he asked, turning to look at him. “You know how to top off the tanks and check the oil, right?”
“Sí, Señor. You’re going to use the airplane again soon?”
Yeah, I’m going to exfiltrate an OSS agent into Uruguay right after breakfast in the morning. Make sure you tell el Coronel Martín.
“I was taught that if you keep the tanks topped off, it reduces the chances of condensation in the gasoline,” Clete said.
“Yes, of course, Señor,” Benito said. “I’ll see to it right away.”
Clete unstrapped himself and made his way through the passenger compartment. Enrico was still firmly strapped to his seat.
“You can unstrap yourself now, Enrico. This Marine has safely landed and the situation is well in hand.”
Enrico looked at him without comprehension but began to unbuckle his belt.
Clete went to the door at the rear of the cabin, opened it, and climbed out of the Lodestar.
He offered his hand to Humberto, who ignored it, grasped his arms, and kissed Clete’s cheek.
Did they get that from the French? Their men are always kissing each other. Christ, French generals kiss French PFCs when they hand out the “No Venereal Disease in Six Months” medals.
Or is that a standard European custom?
“I didn’t expect you until a little later, Humberto,” Clete said, claiming and firmly shaking his uncle’s hand. “Did you see Peter?”
 
; “He said to give you his regards,” Humberto said. “He went riding with Alicia, Isabela, and Isabela’s friend.”
“Really?”
“His name is Antonio—they call him ‘Tony’—Pellechea. Your aunt Beatrice invited him and his parents to your wedding,” Humberto announced.
Clete’s face showed his reaction.
“Beatrice and Tony’s mother were at St. Teresa’s together,” Humberto said. “And Beatrice is, of course…”
As nutty as a fruitcake, you poor bastard.
“…Beatrice.”
“No problem,” Clete said. “The more the merrier. But what happened to that ‘small family and closest friends only’ wedding I heard about? God, even Coronel Perón is coming.”
“Claudia told me about that. He’s your godfather; he thinks of himself as family. Be grateful for that.”
Clete decided not to debate the point.
“What were you doing with the airplane?” Humberto asked as they started to walk toward the house.
“I wanted to make sure it worked,” Clete said. “And I wanted to stay what we call ‘current.’”