The DeValera Deception

by Michael McMenamin

  8:45 p.m.

  Churchill walked into the library. A tall, strikingly attractive woman with dark brown hair was standing in the far corner, her regal profile looking out the window at the street below. There were five other men scattered around the room in overstuffed leather chairs, a few with frowns on their faces as they occasionally glanced in her direction. Churchill vaguely recalled being told that women were only allowed in certain areas of the Club but the woman appeared unbothered by the disapproving stares. He walked over to the woman and spoke in a low voice. “My dear. How good to see you. I am pleased my message reached you.”

  The woman turned and warmly embraced Churchill. “Winston, darling.”

  “Did you have a pleasant journey from Chicago?” Churchill asked.

  “Fine. Quite pleasant. The service was excellent.”

  “How are the others?” Churchill asked.

  “They‘re all fine. They‘re together now,” the woman replied.

  “Excellent,” said Churchill. “Excellent. We have much to talk about, you and I, but now is neither the time nor the place. Why don‘t you come see me around 10:00 p.m.? The Fairmont. We can have a quiet late supper. Just the two of us. We won‘t be disturbed.”

  53.

  Unfinished Business

  San Francisco

  Tuesday, 20 August 1929

  9:00 p.m.

  Cockran left the Fairmont elevator, walked to his room and pulled out his key. As he opened the door, he heard the shower running. He stopped, carefully closed the door with his left hand and pulled his Webley from his shoulder holster with his right. He quietly opened the door again and stepped inside, the revolver sweeping the room. It was empty. But the bathroom door was closed. The shower had stopped. Cockran walked softly over to the bathroom door and threw it forcefully open. The terrycloth robed figure inside was startled by the noise and turned to face an equally surprised Cockran. “Mattie! It‘s you! You‘re safe!”

  Mattie McGary had been showering in Cockran’s room for half an hour mentally going over one more time all that had happened during her visit to Wyntoon. The unexpected journey north with the attentive and solicitous Germans had taken most of the day arriving at their destination when the sun was low on the horizon. She was astonished to see they were at Wyntoon. Hearst had never invited her there but she had known exactly where she was. Hearst had several photographs of the manor house at Wyntoon in the large office he still maintained at the San Francisco Examiner. Being at Wyntoon had given her a much better understanding of the forces at play behind the scenes.

  But if she had been surprised to be arriving at Wyntoon, she had not been surprised by most of what had happened after that. In fact, by then, she was more or less expecting it. But those were things she had no intention of sharing with Cockran. He had no need to know and a lot could still go wrong. Telling him some of the truth was one thing. That came with the territory. But telling the whole truth? No, that wasn‘t an option. Still, she wasn‘t sure just what to say.

  Mattie had just doffed a terrycloth robe and was towel-drying her hair when the bathroom door flew open and she found herself face to face with a large Webley revolver. Cockran!

  “My, oh my,” Mattie said, as she let the towel fall to the floor, her wet red hair glistening in the steamy room. Mattie still didn‘t know what, if anything, to tell Cockran about Wyntoon. And right now, it didn’t matter. She wanted to put Wyntoon behind her and focus on the future. And she knew just how to do it . “What a large weapon you have, Mr. Cockran,” she said as she slowly untied the belt on her robe. Then she shrugged the robe off her shoulders and it fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. “As you can see, I‘m not armed.”

  She smiled and walked toward him as he lowered the revolver “You seem surprised to see me. You were expecting to find some other naked woman in your bathroom, Cockran?”

  Cockran stammered, “No.... I mean, you‘re safe. What happened?”

  She had reached him now and put her arms around his neck and gave him a long lingering kiss which Cockran returned, his hands beginning to explore her body. A full thirty seconds later, she pulled away, looked up at him and said, “We can talk about all that later. You and I have some unfinished business.”

  Cockran smiled. “We do?”

  In response, Mattie grabbed him by his shoulders, turned him around and pushed him into the bedroom, reaching up as she did so to pull the shoulder holster back over his arms, letting it drop on the floor beside her. “Yes, we certainly do.”

  They had reached the bed by now. Mattie walked around him, pulled down the covers, and bent slowly over at the waist as she did so, a pose she held far longer than necessary to arrange pillows. It was a practiced move for Mattie, designed for first time lovers but one she had not been able to employ for Cockran in the confines of a Pullman compartment. She looked back over her shoulder to see Cockran eyes focused exactly where she wanted. Good.

  Mattie slowly straightened up and turned to face him. “Staring at my ass, Cockran? I think a Pullman compartment is not the best venue for us to learn whether you‘re as good on top as you are underneath.” she said, putting her arms around him. “Want to find out?”

  Cockran did and Mattie stepped back and watched as his boxer shorts hit the floor. Oh my, she thought. The train really had been too dark to fully appreciate his body as her eyes feasted on her first good look at her new and gloriously naked lover. It was obvious no foreplay was going to be needed for either of them, she thought, as she reached out for him.

  One hour later, they lay in each other‘s arms, back to front, Cockran‘s left arm across her breasts, a cool breeze from the open window beginning to dry the perspiration covering both their bodies. Mattie sighed . Cockran had been more than good and she was lucky. He was much better on top than underneath. She had been right. It had been exactly what she needed.

  It was a good thing, Mattie thought, that they were in an expensive hotel suite with solid plaster walls rather than the thin partitions of a Pullman compartment. When she was being shown a good time—and tonight had been so much more than a good time—she was not shy, or quiet, about expressing her enthusiasm.

  “Even nicer than the train. Thank you.”

  “You‘re welcome. I could say the pleasure was all mine, but I don‘t think that‘s true.”

  Mattie laughed. “You got that right, McGee.”

  “So, tell me about it. What happened yesterday morning?”

  Mattie sighed. She didn‘t want to lie to this man. There were things she had withheld from him but she hadn‘t lied. She wasn‘t going to start now.

  “I apologize for leaving so abruptly without telling you where I was going. But it all arose so suddenly. There were things I had to do and I did them. Now I‘m back. And I‘m glad I am. You made me one happy girl,” Mattie said. There. She had said it and it was the literal truth. The operative word was “had”. Any woman in her position would have done the same.

  But Cockran wasn‘t buying it. “Who were those two blond men with you on the ferry?”

  Nice guys, considering, but it was difficult to sound firm when you were naked so Mattie ignored his question, rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom where she wrapped herself in a terrycloth robe. Returning to the bedroom, she began to make herself a scotch and water as she gathered her thoughts.

  “Can I fix you a drink?” she asked.

  “No thanks. Will you answer my question?”

  Mattie paused before answering. “No, I won‘t. Who I was with, where I went and what I did doesn‘t concern you. Please, Bourke, leave it at that. You don‘t need to know.”

  “But Mattie…” Cockran began but she cut him off.

  “Leave it alone, Cockran. I don‘t want to talk about it.”

  Later, with Mattie asleep beside him, Cockran was wide awake and puzzled. Why wouldn’t she even tell him she had been at Wyntoon, let alone at one point naked in that bedroom? Had she actually been in the room when that
man had been killed? Had he been her lover? What exactly was her game? Had she really been the IRA’s captive as the anonymous note suggested? But if so and now that she was free, why not admit it? Until he knew the answers, he wasn‘t about to disclose to Mattie what he had learned at Wyntoon about Hearst and Cromwell. He would let Churchill sort it out. Whose side was Mattie on?

  Cockran got up from the bed. Mattie stirred briefly, then snuggled back in as he reluctantly pulled the covers higher over her body. He loved her body but he hated being a pawn in someone else‘s game. Not being able to see the entire chessboard. Not knowing where the other pieces were or what moves came next.

  Cockran put on a terrycloth robe. That‘s the problem, he thought. Few people were content to be pawns, moved about at the will of another. Even if they were in someone else‘s game, they were always starting up their own. Games within games. Churchill probably knew that, expected it and didn‘t care. He wondered if Mick Collins had thought about it the same way.

  But what was Mattie‘s game? Where did she fit in? Who was she working for? Hearst? More than likely. Wyntoon certainly showed he and Cromwell were in this IRA arms deal up to their ears. But what were their motives? Hearst at least would be bashing the Brits and selling more papers if another civil war broke out in Ireland. Cromwell? Hell, he probably owned stock in most of the arms and munitions makers in the US.

  Mattie‘s motives still nagged. Why had she seduced him? He had no illusions about his attractiveness to the fairer sex. Once he had sworn off single women, the young Gold Coast matrons he dated were as much interested in revenge on their husbands as they were in him. Yet Mattie attracted him like no other woman since Nora. And, like Nora, she had seduced him, the only two women who had ever done so. This in itself was suspicious. Flattering but suspicious because it was usually Cockran making the first move.

  But what if he was wrong? What if she really was working for Churchill and not Hearst? And what if she was beginning to care for him? Part of him hoped that she was but he was conflicted. He had avoided commitment for so long because he didn‘t want to break any more hearts. But Mattie was different. He‘d never felt this way about the others. That was what the speech was for—to let them down as gently as possible. Could he do that with Mattie? He didn‘t know. And if she were playng him for a sucker, that would hurt too.

  Cockran pondered the immediate future. He had no plan on how to uncover Mattie‘s true loyalties. And he had no better plan than Churchill‘s to stop the IRA. But he had a plan for McBride. Oh, yes. He knew exactly what he was going to do when he found Tommy McBride.

  54.

  Giraffes!

  En Route to San Simeon

  Wednesday, 21 August 1929

  9:30 a.m.

  The morning sun was bright and the sky was deep blue and cloudless. Mattie and Bourke had risen early and caught the Southern Pacific‘s 6:30 a.m. train to Los Angeles. They were scheduled to arrive early in the afternoon at the small seaside town of San Luis Obispo, the train station nearest to San Simeon. Hearst would have a car waiting for them.

  Cockran couldn‘t concentrate on what lay ahead in San Simeon—Churchill and the meeting with the President. His mind kept wandering back to Tommy McBride. Jack Manion‘s men had staked out the warehouse in Oakland for the past two days with no sign of him. So Cockran would give Churchill the information he had found at Wyntoon. He would even meet with the President today if that is what Churchill still wanted him to do. He hoped he was wrong about Hearst and Mattie but, if not, he and Winston were heading straight into the lion‘s den.

  11:30 a.m.

  Giraffes! Cockran couldn‘t believe it. Hearst really did have giraffes! Mattie had warned him, but he thought by now that he could tell when she was pulling his leg. Deception? Well, that was different. Three giraffes, their long necks extended upward, were nibbling the tender leaves near the top of the low lying trees.

  “I‘ll be damned!” Cockran said, turning to Mattie, “you weren‘t kidding, were you?”

  They were sitting in the back of William Randolph Hearst‘s large Buick convertible which had met them at the train station in San Luis Obispo. The sky was still cloudless, but a steady breeze off the ocean ruffled their hair as they headed back up the Pacific Coast Highway to the tiny fishing village of San Simeon, forty-three miles to the north. They drove through the village, San Simeon Bay on their left, and turned right onto a wide, carefully laid gravel road leading to the hill beyond, La Cuesta Encantada, The Enchanted Hill, rising in the distance. At the base of the hill they passed an airfield where a Fokker Trimotor had just landed. Cockran could see from the identification that it wasn‘t the same plane, but it was the twin of the one he and Jack Manion had chartered for the flight to Wyntoon. At the far end of the field was an airship mooring mast.

  Further along the road they passed on the left the headquarters for the cattle ranch which Hearst maintained on the property. A few miles further, they came to a ten-foot high wire fence. They passed through special double pull gates designed to allow automobiles and people entrance to the enclosure without affording the wild animals inside a chance to escape, with only one gate opening at a time. The enclosure covered several square miles and, as the road continued to wind upward, Cockran saw in the space of only fifteen minutes not only the giraffes but six bison, four zebras, four llamas, a yak, three cassowaries, two emus and many more gazelles and antelopes. Finally, they came upon a herd of kangaroos blocking their path, sitting in the middle of the road. The Buick crunched to a halt on the gravel and the chauffeur sounded the horn. The kangaroos were unimpressed but, gradually, they moved off the road.

  They had been climbing steadily higher and at each switchback, Cockran could see the blue of the Pacific in the distance. They made the final turn and saw looming in front of them the twin bell towers of La Casa Grande, a Spanish style mission cathedral sitting squarely on top of La Cuesta Encantada. Below it were spread out three substantial but smaller guest houses in the same California Spanish style. Casa Del Sol, located to face into the setting sun, Casa Del Monte, to the north and closer to the mountains beyond, and Casa Del Mar, to the south and facing the sea. Gardens, marble pathways and terraces crawled down from La Casa Grande to the smaller houses overlooking an outdoor pool which seemed large enough to sail a small boat in. Cockran had never seen anything like this in his life, not even the grand mansions near his father‘s house on Long Island.

  Mattie was looking at him and smiling. “Wait until you see the zoo.”

  “Zoo?” Cockran asked. “You mean he has more wild animals than the ones we saw?”

  Mattie laughed. “You bet. The last time I was here there were four lions, two pumas, two chimpanzees, mountain lions, cheetahs, leopards. Not to mention the elephants.”

  When the Buick pulled up in front of La Casa Grande, Hearst and Churchill were outside waiting at the foot of a broad marble staircase. Hearst was a big bear of a man who looked much younger than his 66 years. His shoulders were slightly slumped forward, a shock of gray hair falling over the forehead of his large head. He was easily six inches taller than the smaller Churchill, who had apparently taken an even earlier train than Cockran and Mattie. Though the temperature was in the low eighties, both men wore light-colored vested summer suits.

  Mattie was first out of the convertible and warmly gave a hug and a kiss on the cheek to Hearst who awkwardly returned the embrace. Mattie turned and did the same to Churchill.

  “Chief, meet Bourke Cockran. You and his father were once in Congress together.”

  “Yes, we were,” said Hearst, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice for such a large man. “A fine fellow, your father. Marvelous speaker. Occasionally prone to exaggeration. I don’t really think I represented ‘every incitement to murder‘ or ‘every encouragement to riot‘ as he claimed when I campaigned for mayor of New York. But that was all long ago. 1905, actually. He made up for it the year after. Supported me for governor. Your father was quite a man but, w
hatever his other faults, he was an even better judge of journalistic talent. I personally edited your articles on the GID dossiers. They’re still some of my favorites.”

  Cockran was surprised to learn he had been hired in 1919 despite Hearst‘s total recall of his father‘s 1905 speech and flattered that Hearst would remember his stories from ten years ago.

  “Thank you, sir,” Cockran said. “I liked them, too.”

  “Please,” said Hearst, “call me W.R. You were in Europe for us after that, weren’t you? I‘m sorry you left. It wasn‘t the money, was it? I‘ve never lost good people because of that.”

  “No, sir, it was personal. It wasn‘t the money.”

  “Good, good. I‘m pleased you could join us. We have more guests than usual this weekend because of the Graf Zeppelin, but if you need anything, don‘t hesitate to ask.”

  Hearst turned to Churchill. “Winston, I believe Mr. Cockran is staying with you in Casa Del Sol. Would you be so kind as to show him to his rooms? I am certain his bags will be there by now. Come, Mattie,” he said, turning back to her and extending his arm. “We have a lot of catching up to do. And there are some photographs you mailed me which we must go over.”

  The sun was directly overhead. Churchill and Cockran walked slowly back the guest house where Churchill and his entourage were lodged. A pleasant breeze was blowing and they were soon inside the house’s cool exterior.

  A table had been set up for them in the cool shade of the covered terrace of the large, two-story structure, looking out through three arches toward the Pacific. “Our host has a big evening planned for us.” Churchill said. “They have been in wireless contact with the Graf Zeppelin. It will arrive in San Francisco this afternoon and in San Simeon before dusk.”