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[FIVE]

Arnaud’s Restaurant 813 Bienville Street, New Orleans 2145 25 June 1945

“I can’t believe you ate two dozen of those things,” Doña Dorotea said to Don Cletus.

“They call them oysters, my love, and I ate two dozen of them because the oysters in Argentina are lousy. And as to the two dozen? You know what they say about oysters. . . .”

Dorotea confessed she didn’t know what was said about oysters, so he leaned over and whispered in her ear what magical qualities were said about oysters.

“I really hope that’s true,” Dorotea said. “Will they give you back your money if they don’t work?”

“Somehow I suspect all of these will work just fine.”

“And afterward?”

“I think I’ll sleep.”

“You know what I mean, Cletus.”

“I honest to God don’t know, sweetheart. You know what Mattingly told me. You told me that Team Turtle is out of reach of the Secret Service. Mattingly said there will be friends to help. I was treated like an admiral on the Greene—I told you—after there was a radio message from some friend of somebody.

“I don’t know what to think about that Navy lawyer in Pensacola, McGrory. He could be a friend who put me on leave to hide me, or he could just be a pencil-pusher who put me on leave because the book said that’s what to do. The only thing I know for sure is that I have to stay out of the clutches of the Secret Service for as long as I can to give Mattingly the time to get General Gehlen and his people set up.”

“Eventually, darling, they are going to have you in their clutches. Then what?”

“I will lie to them as convincingly as I can for as long as I can.”

“You realize you sound like Peter? You’re going to do your duty, no matter what?”

“There’s a slight difference between Peter and me. While I don’t think Secretary Morgenthau likes me very much, dear, I really can’t see him skinning me alive.”

“What are your chances of going to prison?”

“I really don’t think it will go that far.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t think that’s very encouraging.”

“It’s the best I can do, sweetheart.”

The waiter appeared.

“May I bring you another Sazerac, madam? Sir?”

“Not for me, thank you,” Dorotea said. “I’ve already had too many of them.”

“I’ll have another, thank you,” Cletus said and, looking at Dorotea, added, “Actually, those are my plans for the indefinite future. Drink lots of Sazeracs and eat lots of oysters.”

The waiter smiled. “Sounds like a good plan, sir.”

“It’s the only one I have,” Clete said, looking at Dorotea.

“That being the case,” Dorotea said, and turned to the waiter. “Bring me another, too, please. No oysters. But a broiled white fish of some kind.”

“May I suggest the trout Pontchartrain?”

“Just so long as it’s broiled and white,” Dorotea said.

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