W E B Griffin - Men at War 2 - Secret Warriors

by Secret Warriors(Lit)

  "What do we really want him for?"

  "You don't have the need to know, just yet," Baker said. "Fuck you," Canidy said. "You really should learn to control your mouth," Baker flared. "One day it's going to get you in troub e." There was a pause while Baker waited for an apology. He went on after none came: "It is important, Canidy, You'll have to take my word for it.))

  "If you say so, El don," Canidy said sarcastically. He was trying to get under Baker's skin, and he succeeded. "You don't really think we recruited Fine just to fly that airplane, do you?" Baker asked sarcastically. "I wondered about that," Canidy said. "Fine has some interesting contacts in Europe," Baker said. "And we have reason to believe his uncle has made substantial contributions to the Zionist movement."

  "I don't understand that," Canidy said. "The Zionists have a very skillful intelligence service," Baker said, as if patiently dealing with a backward child. "I didn't know that," Canidy confessed. "Much of what we know about German jet-engine development we got from the British, who got it from the Zionists," Baker said. "And you're shortly going to be joined at Summer Place by Second Lieutenant C.

  Holds worth Martin the Third."

  "The Disciple, junior?" Canidy asked, surprised.

  "Wait till. Drew Pearson hears about that." Baker ignored him again.

  "He was at La Rosey in Switzerland with Fulmar," Baker said. "What the hell is so important about Fulmar?" Canidy asked. "Important enough that I may order responsibility for Captain Whittaker transferred from Fort Knox to you, at Summer Place-if he can bring Fulmar with him."

  "How can I get Whittaker to talk Fulmar into anything if neither of us has the slightest idea what you want Fulmar to do?"

  "We tell Whittaker that it's something connected with the invasion of North Africa. That's credible. But we simply cannot even suggest what we really want from Fulmar at this point."

  "I'll be a sonofabitch if I understand any of this," Canidy said.

  "Good.

  You're not supposed to."

  "What makes you think Fulmar will believe anything you have to say?"

  Canidy asked.

  "I suppose it's occurred to you that you destroyed your credibility with Fulmar when you left him and me floating around in the Atlantic off Safi?" Canidy said. "That's where you come in," Baker said.

  "Why do you think you were left behind? You ever wonder about that?"

  "I was too mad to wonder about it," Canidy said. "Police detectives have an interrogation technique," Baker said, "where one is a heartless sonofabitch, and another is kind, gentle, and understanding."

  "And I'm to be the good guy, right?"

  "Now you're getting the picture," Baker said.

  "You're not a sonofabitch like Baker; you were left behind, too."

  "The truth is that you are a genuine, heartless sonofabitch, and like being one," Canidy said. "I'm sorry you feel that way," Baker said.

  "Okay," Canidy said.

  "I get the picture. Is this class about over now?"

  "I was about to suggest it was," Baker said, and waved his hand back down the pebble runway to where the DI 8 sat waiting for them.

  V I ONE I The Willard Hotel Washington, D.C. June as, 1942

  Sarah Child Bitter was kneeling on the floor of what at one time had been the suite Joseph Schild and Company, Merchant Bankers, maintained in Washington. The suite was now what she thought of as her first married home. What she was trying to do was force mashed carrots into Joe, a lo sin battle that was thankfully interrupted when the telephone rang. Long distance was calling for Commander Bitter.

  "I'm sorry, operator, he's not here," Sarah said. "If that's Mrs. Bitter, operator, the voice said, "I'll talk to her."

  "This is Mrs. Bitter," Sarah said. "Go ahead, Sir," the operator said.

  "This is Doug Doug lass, Mrs. Bitter," a pleasant voice said. "I'm an old friend of Ed's."

  "I know," she said. Doug Doug lass was more than an old friend. He was the man who had saved Ed's life when Ed had been wounded. Doug Doug lass had landed his own P-40 on a dry riverbed, manhandled Ed from the cockpit of his plane into his own cockpit, and then somehow managed to take off again.

  "When I called his folks to ask if they knew where he was, they gave me your number."

  "You don't know how glad I am to hear you're back," Sarah said. "So am I," he said.

  "I never thought I would be delighted to be stationed in Selma, Alabama, but-" "Is that where you are?" Sarah asked.

  "Alabama?"

  "They gave me a fighter group down here, Mrs. Bitter,' he said. I will thank him for my husband's life, for Joe's daddy, hut this isn't the time. Oh, please call me Sarah," she said. "I hear there's a baby, too, I didn't know about," "Yes, there is," Sarah said.

  "I'd like to see Ed," Doug lass said.

  "And if he's going to be available, this weekend. I'm coming up to Washington. "He'll be available," Sarah said.

  "And you'll stay here with us." There was a perpetual shortage of hotel rooms in Washington for civilians. And so many officers were visiting the city, Ed had told her, that rooms in transient bachelor officers' quarters had become nothing but wall-to-wall cots. Sarah was at first delighted to have the chance to offer Doug Doug lass a place to stay, until she remembered that her old friend Charity Hoc he was coming on Friday afternoon and Ann Chambers on Saturday, which meant there would be no spare room. Well, they would just have to make do, have the hotel send up cots or something. Both Ann and Doug lass had large claims on her. And Charity was a dear. Fortunately, it turned out there wasn't going to be a problem after all. "Well, that's very kind, Sarah, but I already have a place to stay," Doug said. "A nice place?" she challenged. "Very nice." He chuckled, "I'll be staying with my father."

  "Well, there's a room here if you need one," Sarah said.

  "Are you going to be here on business?"

  "I am solemnly informed that the entire war effort will collapse unless I immediately acquire some cross-country time," he said.

  "So I decided to cross the country to our nation's capital instead of Hogwash, Wisconsin." He has a nice voice, Sarah thought. And seems like a nice fellow. "Well, if the fate of the nation depends on it," Sarah said. "How long can you stay?"

  "Overnight, anyway," he said.

  "If you can find a baby-sitter, I'd like to take you out to dinner."

  "No, you won't," Sarah said.

  "We'll have a party. I even know some girls."

  "You don't have to do that," he said. "I want to," Sarah said.

  "When and where are you arriving?"

  "I'll leave here, say, six, six-thirty," he said.

  "I should touch down at Bolling no later than half past ten."

  "You can't make it from Alabama that quickly, can you?" she said.

  "You can in a P-3 8," he said. "I really look forward to this," Sarah said.

  "Me, too, Sarah," he said, then: "Gotta go! See you Saturday." The line went dead. What I really would like to do, she thought, is call Ed and tell him. But he doesn' the me to ca im ere.

  She meditated a moment, then lifted her finger off the switch. When the operator came on the line, Sarah gave her Ann' number at the Memphis Advocate. "Ed's friend Doug lass is going to be here Saturday, too," she announced.

  "If he's going to see Ed, maybe he'll see Dick Canidy, too."

  "At least I should be able to corner him and see if he has a number or an address," Ann said. Then: "Just for the bell of it, why don't you try the National Institutes of Health again for me? Save me the price of a call. If he comes on the line, hang up." Sarah giggled.

  "Okay," she said.

  "I will." Ann gave her the number, said, "See you Saturday," and hung up. just as before with Ann, the operator at the National Institutes of Health informed Sarah that no one named Canidy worked there. "I'm sure there's some mistake," Sarah said.

  "I was told to call him at the National Institutes of Health building.

  There was silence on the line, and Sara
h had just about decided the operator had hung up on her, when there was the sound of a phone being rung. A woman answered and said," Hello? The one word was enough for Sarah to judge that she was young, sophisticated, and intelligent.

  "Major Richard Canidy, please," Sarah said. There was a hesitation.

  "May I ask who's calling?"

  "My name is Sarah Bitter," Sarah said. There was another pause. Sarah suspected she was about to be put off again, so she quickly added, "My husband is Commander Edwin Bitter. He and Major Canidy were in the American Volunteer Group." There was another pause, not as long. "May I ask where you got this number?" the young woman asked. "From another Flying Tiger," Sarah said.

  "Major Doug Doug lass."

  "I see," the young woman said, her inflection explaining a good deal.

  "Well, I'm sorry, Miss, there is no one here by that name."

  "I see," Sarah said.

  "Thank you very much, anyway." The young woman hung up without another word.

  TWO I God man Army Air Field Fort Knox, Kentucky June 29, 1942

  The parking ramps of God man held a large number of what looked like brand-new Lockheed P-38 aircraft. At least two squadrons, Canidy judged.

  He wondered why so many were in the middle of Kentucky, and wondered if they were here to protect the United States gold reserves.

  That made perfect bureaucratic/military sense: Station two squadrons of brand-new fighters here to protect something that not only was buried deep underground but far beyond the range of any enemy bomber. "They expect us," Baker announced.

  "I have a number to call."

  "Go call it," Canidy said, and went to find somebody to top off the D18's tanks.

  A few moments later, Baker returned to the airplane and announced a car was coming for them; it would be a couple of minutes.

  Canidy looked at the other man carefully. After considerable thought he had made up his mind to do something he now concluded was not un duly colored by his dislike for El don C. Baker. 1@

  "Let's stretch our legs , he said, mimicking Baker's manner at Wheel THE SECRET WARRIORS N 14T wright. When he had him out of earshot of the ground crew servicing the Beech, he said, "I've been thinking that I'm not going to feed Whittaker your line of bullshit about some kind of unspecified dangerous mission. I'm not going to lie to him."

  "Your sense of humor, or loyalty, or whatever it is, is misplaced," Baker said.

  "Though commendable," he added. "Well, I'm not going to do it, so do whatever you have to do with that in mind," Canidy said. "Are we going to have to call Captain Doug lass on the phone to get this straightened out?"

  "Call anybody you want," Canidy said. "There's a scrambler phone at post headquarters," Baker said. "I'll use that." Canidy shrugged.

  "What are you thinking, Canidy?" Baker asked, en route to post headquarters in an Army olive-drab staff car.

  "That he would learn the truth anyhow and be upset?"

  "I don't think you understand trust," Canidy said.

  "I don't think the elaborate bullshit is necessary with this guy. And it damned well could be counterproductive. When you finish tattling on me to Doug lass, that's the argument I'm going to make."

  As he got out of the car before the brick post headquarters building, Baker turned to Canidy. "We'll tell him as little of the truth as necessary, agreed?"

  "But the truth," Canidy said. Baker nodded. Either he realizes the profound wisdom of my position, or else he's afraid to go to Doug lass with it. Which means that I may have more influence with Doug lass than I think I do-or Baker wants me to know I have.

  Canidy had hoped to meet the post commander, a general named Patton whom he knew to be quite a character. General Patton had not only traveled around the prewar Army with his own string of polo ponies, but he had designed a uniform for armored troops that made them look like characters in the "Buck Rogers in the 21st Century" comic strip.

  Unfortunately, it turned out that Patton was in Washington.

  Though Patton's deputy, a brigadier general, was expecting them, he had no idea why they were coming. And when Baker showed him the identification of a deputy U.S. marshal, he was visibly uneasy-and even more nervous when Baker produced an order of the United States Court of Appeals directing him to give Baker access to Captain James M. B.

  Whittaker and Eric Fulmar. The order went on to say that Baker was authorized-if he so chose-to take one or both of the aforesaid patients into his personal custody. "I'll have to check this, you understand, Sir," the brigadier general said. A telephone call to the Chief of Staff confirmed that Fort Knox had no choice but to comply with the court order. The brigadier general then called in the post provost marshal, who drove Canidy and Baker to the station hospital in a Chevrolet sedan with a chrome siren on the fender. The station hospital was a sprawling complex of single-story frame buildings. It was brand new-still smelling of freshly sawed lumber and paint-and it was built on gently undulating land half a mile from the brick buildings of the main post. After the hospital commander, a tall, heavy, white-mustachio ed full colonel, was shown the court order, he told them that Whittaker and Fulmar were in private rooms in a private ward, and that he would personally escort them there. "Whittaker first," Canidy said. The private ward was in a fenced-in portion of the neuropsychiatric division of the hospital.

  Sections of hurricane fence enclosed a small porch. Fence material was nailed over the windows. A military policeman was in the corridor, and another sat outside the fence on a folding chair under a small tree.

  "What's his physical condition, Colonel?" Baker asked.

  "Physically-and so far as I am concerned mentally-there is nothing wrong with Captain Whittaker," the hospital commander said.

  "He was a mess when they brought him here, but once we got rid of his parasites and got some food into him, he came right around."

  "I'm glad to hear that," Baker said. "I've been told to ask you no questions, and as a soldier I'll obey my orders. But I don't mind telling you that I don't like a hospital ward being used as a prison," the hospital commander said.

  "I don't think it's either ethical or legal."

  Good for you, Colonel! Canidy thought. "Wouldn't you say, Colonel," Baker said coldly, "that the Attorney General would be the best judge of that?" The colonel did not back down. "The Supreme Court, perhaps," he said.

  "I'm not sure about the Attorney General." Canidy chuckled, and Baker glared at him. The MP unlocked the door to a room, then held it open for Canidy, Baker, and the hospital commander. "Captain Whittaker," the doctor said.

  "These gentlemen have been sent from Washington to see you."

  "I'll be god damned," Whittaker said. He was in a red hospital bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. He had been reading Life magazine.

  "Thank you, Doctor," Baker said, "I'll take it from here." The hospital commander left, closing the door after him, and almost immediately Canidy heard the lock being snapped shut. Whittaker looked suspiciously at Canidy but got out of his chair and offered his hand.

  "Hello, Jimmy," Canidy said.

  "How the hell are you?" You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you. Not only physically. You must have put on forty pounds.

  And that nutty look in your eyes is gone. "This is the prison ward," Whittaker said.

  "Or the lunatic ward. Or the prison slash lunatic ward. How the hell do you think I am?"

  "I hear you got rid of Clarence," Canidy said. "Yeah," Whittaker said.

  "And he was a persistent bastard. It took about ten pounds of quinine to kill him. I was as yellow as a daisy for a while."

  "It must run in the family," Canidy said.

  "Your aunt Barbara told me that Chesly had one in-somewhere in the Far East."

  "I've heard that story," Whittaker said, and then he looked coldly at El don C. Baker." Who're you?" he asked. "His name is Baker," Canidy said.

  "Watch out for him. He's a sonofabitch. But be nice to him. He has the power to get you out of
here."

  "Uncle Franklin is no longer pissed?" Whittaker asked.

  "I am to be sprung from durance vile?"

  "That's up to you," Canidy said.

  "Some people think you're a bomb about to go off. Others think you may be useful to them. Once you hear why, you may want to stay in the loony bin." Whittaker looked at Baker curiously. "Has Dick told you about Morocco, Captain Whittaker?" Baker asked. "No," Whittaker said simply."

  You know, Baker," Canidy said." Loose lips lose ships.

  "You are aware that he and I work for the Office of the Coordinator of Information?"