W E B Griffin - Corp 08 - In Dangers Path

by In Dangers Path(Lit)

  Well, so much for my not embarrassing Colonel Wild Bill by not rubbing my general's stars in his face.

  "Good to see you, Bill," Pickering said, and walked to him to shake hands.

  "What can I fix you, Bill?" Fowler asked.

  "A glass of sparkling water, with a little lime, if you have it, please," Donovan said.

  Is that because he doesn't want a drink, or to set the stage for our sober confrontation ?

  "Coming right up, sir," Fred said.

  "We are at the bottomless well of Flem's supply of Famous Grouse," Fowler said. "He made sure the liquor stocks were sent ashore before he turned his passenger ships over to the Navy."

  "I can also make you a deal on the silver from the first class dining rooms," Pickering said.

  Donovan laughed dutifully.

  "You kept the merchant ships, didn't you?" Donovan said. "What was that all about? Not that it's any of my business."

  "There will always be a need for merchantmen," Pickering said. "But when I came back from Hawaii, right after Pearl Harbor, we made port in Seattle, and I had a chance to see all the B-17s lined up at the Boeing plant. They can fly to Hawaii in hours. It seemed to me that after the war, people are not going to be willing to spend weeks on a ship-no matter how comfortable-when they can get where they have to go in hours."

  "In other words, buy Boeing stock?"

  "I have. And Lockheed, after I saw drawings of a four-engine transport Howard Hughes wants to make that will carry fifty people across oceans at three hundred miles an hour."

  "And what do you think of his wooden airplane? That will carry two hundred and fifty people? Or is it three fifty? Or so he says."

  "I heard about that," Pickering said. "I haven't seen it, but my gut reaction would be to bet on Howard Hughes. I would be surprised if it doesn't work as promised. But to answer your question, I was delighted to sell the government my passenger ships. I kept the merchantmen because I thought P&FE could operate them more efficiently than the Navy could."

  "And you're probably right," Donovan said, then switched over to the real point of the meeting. "I have something to say to you, Pickering. And not because of the circumstances. I was wrong when I didn't offer you an assistant directorship when you came to see me."

  "We were not mutual admirers," Pickering said. "If the shoe had been on my foot-"

  "The matter is now out of our hands, isn't it?" Donovan said.

  "It would seem that way," Pickering said.

  "Is this the appropriate time for me to say 'welcome'? Or maybe, if an old soldier can get away with saying this, 'welcome aboard'?"

  "Thank you very much, sir," Pickering said, and offered his hand again.

  "You see?" Fowler said. "It's like going to the dentist. Once you sit down in the chair and open your mouth, it's not nearly as bad as you imagined."

  "Jesus, Dick!" Pickering said, but smiled.

  "How's your health?" Donovan asked.

  "Fine," Pickering said. "I was pretty tired when I got off the airplane in San Diego, but then I spent four days at home, lifting nothing heavier than a fork."

  "You're ready to go to work?"

  "Yes," Pickering said simply.

  "Good. There are things for you to do," Donovan said. "But before I get into that, let me give you the lay of the land."

  Pickering nodded.

  "Am I supposed to be privy to any of this?" Senator Fowler asked. "Legally, no," Donovan said. "But on the other hand."

  "I'm a United States senator?"

  "You were there, Dick, having dinner with the President, when he had-what was it he said? his 'divine revelation'-about naming Pickering OSS Deputy Director for Pacific Operations. I don't think that was a coincidence; he wanted you involved. It's difficult knowing what Roosevelt is really thinking about anything, but maybe he's hoping that if-when-Pickering becomes unhappy with something at the OSS, he'd rather have him talk it over with you before he takes it to him. I think it would be valuable if you heard this."

  He calls Fowler "Dick" and me "Pickering." Did that just happen? Or is it to remind me that he's the boss?

  Fowler nodded.

  "Let's clear the air about that," Pickering said. "I take my orders from you. If I decide that I cannot in good conscience obey my orders, I will tell you why, and resign."

  Donovan looked into Pickering's eyes. "Fair enough," he said. "Then my orders to you are this: If you find yourself thinking of resignation, talk it over with the Senator before you come to me."

  "Yes, sir," Pickering said. ' "And I will ask you, Senator, not to share anything with your colleagues."

  "Of course, not," Fowler said.

  "There is an organizational chart at the OSS," Donovan said. "And like most organizational charts, it's primarily eyewash. The basic setup is this: the Deputy Director, Administration, functions as my chief of staff. If you don't like what you hear from him, come to me."

  Pickering nodded.

  "There is a Deputy Director, Operations, and Deputy Directors, European, Western Hemisphere, and now Pacific. you. While you and the other area Deputy Directors are not subordinate to the Deputy Director, Administration, when he speaks, he's almost always speaking for me."

  Pickering nodded again. "Okay," he said.

  "Come by the office tomorrow. I'll introduce you to everybody."

  "Fine. What time?"

  "Nine?"

  "Fine."

  "How much do you know about the people-the Americans-who are supposed to be in the Gobi Desert?"

  "One of Admiral Nimitz's intelligence officers briefed me in Pearl Harbor."

  "Nimitz had you briefed on the Gobi Desert operation?" Donovan asked.

  To judge by his eyes, Pickering decided, he doesn't like that.

  "Yes, he did," Pickering replied evenly.

  "Did he give any reason for bringing you in on that problem?"

  My conversation with Admiral Nimitz was obviously confidential. So what do I do? Break that confidence? Or start off my armistice with Donovan by lying to him ?

  If I did that, he would sooner or later find out anxway.

  And by now he probably has heard what Nimitz asked Admiral Leahy to do.

  "He told me that he had recommended to Admiral Leahy that the OSS be given the responsibility for establishing contact with the people in the Gobi, and that it was his recommendation that I be given responsibility for the operation."

  Donovan looked at Pickering for a long moment without speaking.

  The sonofabitch is trying to make up his mind whether I'm lying or telling the truth!

  "The Joint Chiefs," Donovan said finally, "which of course means Admiral Leahy, gave the OSS the mission of establishing contact with these people. Nothing was said about you."

  "Then you didn't know about Admiral Nimitz's recommendation?" Pickering asked, surprised.

  "No, but I did know that Nimitz is one of your admirers, and that he knew all about your Philippine operation-and, of course, your appointment to the OSS- so I was a little surprised that your name didn't come up in Phase One."

  "Phase One?" Pickering asked, not understanding.

  "Phase One was a little preliminary work in the OSS, pending my return to Washington. My Deputy Director, Administration, had a memo waiting for me recommending that you be given the operation, giving as his reasons your successful Philippine operation and your position as Deputy Director, Pacific."

  "One doesn't ordinarily consider the Gobi Desert to be in the Pacific," Pickering said.

  Donovan didn't respond to the comment.

  "My Deputy Director, Operations, sent me a memo stating that should your name come up in connection with the Gobi operation, he wanted to go on record early on as being opposed to it. He offered three reasons: First, the point you just made-one doesn't think of the Gobi as being in the Pacific. Second, it would be unfair to you, inasmuch as you have little knowledge of the OSS. And finally, in his view, applying your knowledge of the Pacific Ocean and of
shipping generally could be put to more important use in the OSS than running what will be a commando/parachutist covert operation."

  "You understand, Bill."

  Donovan held up his hand to cut him off.

  "Phase Two occurred last night, across the street," Donovan said, gesturing through the window toward the White House. "Where I was honored to break bread with the Commander in Chief and his Chief of Staff. Shortly before the apple cobbler. Roosevelt looked at me, and said-in words to this effect, 'In addition to other things he might be doing for you, Admiral Leahy thinks that Fleming Pickering should command the operation to get a radio station operating in the Gobi Desert. Do you have any problem with that?" Or, as 1 said, words to that effect."

  "And what did you reply to the Commander in Chief?" Senator Fowler asked, chuckling.

  "I said the idea had already been proposed to me by one of my deputy directors, and I was delighted General Pickering's appointment would please Admiral Leahy."

  "Franklin does that so well." Fowler chuckled. "Makes a suggestion that is impossible to refuse."

  "You didn't say what you had decided to do before the President made his 'suggestion,' " Pickering said.

  "No. I guess I didn't," Donovan said. "Water under the dam anyway, wouldn't you say?"

  "Yes, I suppose so," Pickering said.

  "Tell me about your briefing from Admiral Nimitz," Donovan said.

  "His intelligence officer, or at least one of them-"

  "Groscher? Captain Groscher?" Donovan interrupted.

  "Yeah."

  "Groscher knows as much about the Americans in the Gobi as anybody," Donovan said. "What did he have to say?"

  "Nothing I would suppose that you don't know. Much of it was new to me. There doesn't seem to be any question about whether the weather station is needed, just who will get it up and running."

  "And now we know, don't we?"

  "It's none of my business, but I think Nimitz and Leahy are right. Flem has a way of getting things done," Senator Fowler said.

  Pickering had the feeling Donovan could have happily done without Fowler's comment.

  "We'll talk about this tomorrow at the office," he said.

  "Okay," Pickering said.

  "The President gave you authority to bring anybody you want along with you, in addition to your people already in Australia. Have you given that any thought?"

  "Yes."

  "I'd like to have the Office of Management Analysis," Donovan said. "Lock, stock, and barrel. Have you considered that?"

  "Frank Knox would not stand still for that," Senator Fowler said, thinking out loud.

  "The President gives the orders," Donovan said. "Except, of course, to senators."

  It didn't take long before we came to serious disagreement, did it? Pickering thought. Well, to hell with being polite. Get it on the table.

  "I think that Management Analysis should stay right where it is," Pickering said.

  "Is that so?" Donovan said coldly. "Why?"

  "It's up and running," Pickering said. "I don't want to see it swallowed by the OSS bureaucracy."

  "You're now part of that OSS bureaucracy, General," Donovan said, his face whitening.

  "I am going to ask Colonel Rickabee if he will give me a couple of people over there," Pickering said. "And there are several other people I'd like to have. But I oppose taking the Office of Management Analysis away from Frank Knox."

  It was obvious that Donovan didn't like the response, but he didn't press it.

  If I had any tact, and the brains to use it, I would have used words like "think."

  "suggest," et cetera. Fuck it. Let Donovan know what I think.

  "Why don't we reschedule your arrival at the office until, say, half past twelve tomorrow?" Donovan said. "That would give you time to ask Rickabee who he's willing to give you."

  "Fine," Pickering said.

  "We'll have to do some schedule shuffling to move them through the Country Club," Donovan said. "We'll need your list as soon as possible. This Gobi operation is on the front burner."

  "Excuse me?" Pickering asked, confused.

  "The OSS training base. Before the war, it was the Congressional Country Club. Everybody who comes into the OSS has to go through it. With very rare exceptions, like you."

  My God, McCoy comes home from his third rubber-boat trip onto hostile shores and Donovan wants to send him to basic training?

  Senator Fowler saw the look on Pickering's face. "Are you two about ready to eat?" he asked quickly.

  This is not the time, Pickering decided, to debate the wisdom of sending McCoy and Jake to-what did he call it?-the "Country Club."

  "Anytime, Dick," Pickering said.

  "Actually, I was hoping the subject of eating would come up soon," Donovan said. "I've got a couple of more stops to make tonight."

  "And I have a telephone call to make," Fowler said. "Our mutual friend across the street is staying close to the telephone, waiting for my report on how this went."

  "I was right, then?" Donovan chuckled. "You're to be the referee?"

  "What he did, Bill, was wave his cigarette holder at me, and smile that smile of his, and ask me-since he and I have a civilized gentleman's armistice-if he was being unreasonable in expecting you two to do the same."

  "I knew it," Donovan said.

  "I will now be able to happily tell him that you two have kissed and made up."

  "Good God!" Pickering said.

  Chapter Eight

  [ONE]

  The Foster Lafayette Hotel

  Washington, D.C.

  0805 25 February 1943

  Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, the Washington Star in hand, was sitting in the marble walled bathroom of his apartment, waiting for his bowels to move, when the telephone rang. He dropped the Star onto the floor and gazed, with a sense of moral triumph, at the telephone mounted on the wall.

  Men of less imagination and determination, he thought, in a similar circumstance, would be nonplussed. They would be forced to decide between hastily abandoning their attempt to vacate their bowels, or just letting the damned telephone ring.

  They would not have installed a phone in the John, as he had, over Patricia's firm objections. For reasons he did not pretend to understand, Patricia thought using a telephone in the bathroom was tantamount to using the facilities with the door wide open.

  The telephone, which was mounted on the wall beside the water closet, was equipped with a red light, a green light, and a switch. The green light indicated the incoming call was from the hotel switchboard; the red that it was coming in over the private, unlisted line.

  The red light was blinking.

  With a little bit of luck, that will be my bride, and I can open the conversation by asking her if she can guess where I am.

  He flipped the switch to the private line and picked up the receiver.

  "Good morning!" he cried cheerfully.

  "General Pickering, please," a male voice he didn't recognize replied.

  Who the hell is this? Not ten people have this number.

  "Who is this?"

  "Am I speaking with General Pickering?"

  It's that goddamned Wild Bill Donovan, that's who it is! A little demonstration of his ability to do things like get unlisted telephone numbers. And that he's too important to dial the number himself and has some flunky to do it for him.

  And, if he senses this has annoyed me, he will have accomplished his purpose.

  "This is General Pickering," he said as charmingly as he could manage under the circumstances.

  "One moment, please, General," Donovan's flunky said.

  "Certainly," General Pickering said graciously.

  And before that sonofabitch comes on the line, he'll keep me waiting as long-

  "I didn't get you out of bed, I hope, Fleming?"

  This voice Pickering recognized, and it wasn't that of Wild Bill Donovan.

  "No, Mr. President, I've been up for some time. Go
od morning, Mr. President."

  "I just called to tell you how delighted I was to hear from Dick Fowler that you and Bill Donovan have established an amicable relationship."

  "We had a very pleasant dinner, Mr. President."