W E B Griffin - Corp 08 - In Dangers Path
Page 45
"What exactly does this Governmental Relations Committee do?"
"Most of it has to do with helping the war effort. Getting school kids to invest part of their allowances in War Bond Savings Stamps."
"They glue twenty-five-cent stamps in a book, and when they get twenty-five dollars' worth, they turn them in and get a twenty-five-dollar War Bond?"
"Actually, they get a twenty-five-dollar War Bond for eighteen dollars and fifty cents' worth of stamps. In ten years when they cash in the bond, they get the full amount, twenty-five dollars."
"I see."
"Quincy Junior also handles War Bond tours. You know, when Hollywood stars come around, or war heroes? He sets up the tour and handles the details."
"Sounds like valuable work," Admiral Ball said.
"It is. It is valuable, and it's right down Quincy Junior's alley."
"I can see where it would be."
Especially since good ol' Quincy Junior is not, unfortunately, a chip off Quincy Senior's block.
"It gets him out of town a good deal," Lipscomb said.
"I can see where it would."
"That's probably got something to do with the problem we have, him being away from home so much."
"What problem are we talking about?"
"Elizabeth-Sue Megham, Quincy Junior's wife. I can see where she would get lonely. It's natural."
"I don't think I'm following you, Braxton."
"Elizabeth-Sue is considerably younger than Quincy Junior. He's forty-five, she's thirty-three, maybe thirty-two."
"I see."
"To get right to the point, Jesse."
Finally?
". Elizabeth-Sue seems to have gotten herself involved with one of your officers from the air station."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's a delicate situation for all concerned."
"Do you have a name?"
"Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering. He's a Marine."
"He's a fine young officer, Brax. He served with distinction on Guadalcanal. He's an aviator. An ace, as a matter of fact."
Who is obviously screwing this female, who is at least ten years younger than her husband, who is apparently a jerk. Admiral Ball thought of something else.
"His father is a Marine general," he added.
"I'm sure he's a fine young man," Lipscomb said. "And-I like to think of myself as a man of the world-these things happen between young people. But the potential for real trouble-"
"I'll deal with it, Braxton," Admiral Ball interrupted.
"-is there, and we're going to have to do something about it, you and I."
"I said I'd deal with it," Admiral Ball said.
"I knew I could count on you," Braxton Lipscomb said.
[TWO]
The Marquis da Lafayette Suite
The Foster Lafayette Hotel
Washington, D.C.
1140 28 March 1943
Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, was sitting in a red leather armchair in the library, a long thin black cigar in his mouth, his feet up on a matching footstool, and reading the Washington Star. Except for his tunic, he was in uniform. Hart had that laid out on a library table, making sure that all of its insignia, plus the three-by-five-inch array of ribbons, were precisely in position.
Hart's own uniform, complete to the cord identifying him as an aide-de-camp to a general officer, was fresh from the hotel valet.
Four new, identical canvas suitcases had been placed in a row by the door to the sitting room. When they returned from lunch, they would immediately leave for Anacostia Naval Air Station. A Naval Air Transport Command R4-D had been provided to take Pickering to the West Coast. It would also carry just over two tons of meteorological equipment and shortwave radios, plus two Navy meteorologists. They would pick up three more Navy meteorologists at the Great Lakes Naval Training Station outside Chicago.
They were all enlisted men. One of those waiting at Anacostia was a chief weatherman, an old salt with eighteen years in the Navy. With him was a weatherman third class who had been a meteorologist before being drafted into the Navy eight months previously. The men they would pick up en route to San Diego were apprentice seamen who had been meteorologists before they were drafted into the Navy. All had volunteered for a "classified mission outside the continental United States involving great personal risk." None of them yet knew they were going into the Gobi Desert to operate a weather station-more accurately, that it was hoped they could be sent there. Pickering planned to tell them what they had volunteered for on the long flight from San Diego to Pearl Harbor.
Since their route to Chicago would make a stop at the Memphis Naval Air Station almost convenient-they had to refuel someplace en route, and Memphis was a good choice-Pickering had told Captain David Haughton, Navy Secretary Frank Knox's administrative assistant, to schedule an overnight stop at Memphis.
He wanted to have dinner with Pick before departing again for the Pacific. After wondering whether he was taking advantage of his position in arranging it, he decided to hell with it. He wanted to have dinner with Pick. There was no telling when they would get together again. There was also no telling, in fact, when he'd see his wife again. She was too tied up in San Francisco, she told him, to come to San Diego to see him off.
The chime sounded. Pickering looked up at Second Lieutenant George F. Hart, USMCR. "With a little bit of luck, that will be someone regretting that lunch is off," he said, "and we can get the hell out of here now." He immediately regretted saying that. Hart was really looking forward to the luncheon. He had even told his father and mother about it.
Hart walked quickly out of the library to answer the door. A moment later, Brigadier General F. L. Rickabee, USMC, entered the library, wearing his customary mussed and somewhat ill-fitting suit. He carried a briefcase chained to his wrist, and there was a bulge in his left armpit Pickering knew was a.45 pistol in a shoulder holster.
"Hello, Fritz," Pickering said cordially. "What's up?"
"I'm glad I caught you," Rickabee said, setting the briefcase on the library table and unlocking the handcuff.
"I was hoping you were a messenger telling me I didn't have to go," Pickering said without thinking.
Rickabee worked the combination lock on the battered briefcase, took from it a single sheet of paper, and handed it to Pickering. "I don't like to think how this came into my hands," Rickabee said.
"What is it?" Pickering asked, as he started to read it.
T O P S E C R E T
SPECIAL CHANNEL
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
US MILITARY MISSION TO CHINA
CHUNGKING
1730 25 MARCH 1943
VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL
EYES ONLY
BRIG GEN FLEMING PICKERING USMCR
DEPUTY DIRECTOR PACIFIC OPERATIONS
OSS WASHINGTON DC
1. ALL PERSONNEL AND EQUIPMENT ARRIVED HERE SAFELY AND WITHOUT INCIDENT 0830 LOCALTTME 26MAR43.
2. MAJGEN FT. DEMPSEY, USA, CHIEF SIGNAL OFFICER HQ USMMCHI AND HIS DEPUTY BRIGGEN J.R. NBWLEY, USA HAD PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE OF ARRIVAL PERSONNEL AND EQUIPMENT AND PURPOSE THEREOF. MAJGEN DEMPSEY HAS INFORMED THE UNDERSIGNED HIS AND BRIGGEN NEWLEY'S MAGIC CLEARANCES ARE EXPECTED SHORTLY.
3. MAJGEN DEMPSEY HAS STATED UNDERSIGNED IS TO CONSIDER HIMSELF CRYPTOGRAPHIC OFFICER ATTACHED TO HIS STAFF WITH RESPONSIBILrrY FOR MAGIC AND SPECIAL CHANNEL. PRESUMABLY SAME APPLIES TO LT EASTERBROOK, GUNNER RUTTERMAN AND ON HIS ARRIVAL LT MOORE.
4. MAJGEN DEMPSEY HAS DIRECTED THAT ALL MAGIC AND SPECIAL TRAFFIC COMMUNICATION BE ROUTED THROUGH HIM OR HIS DEPUTY.
5. WHEN UNDERSIGNED RESPECTFULLY DECLINED TO ANSWER MAJGEN DEMPSEY"S QUESTIONS REGARDING MISSION OF MCCOY AND ZIMMERMAN, MAJGEN DEMPSBY ORDERED THE UNDERSIGNED TO ORDER MCCOY AND ZIMMERMAN TO REPORT TO STATION CHIEF OSS CHUNGKING.
6. COMPLIANCE WITH THIS ORDER WAS NOT POSSIBLE INASMUCH AS UNDERSIGNED HAD, PRIOR TO REPORTING TO MAJGEN DEMPSEY, DETACHED MCCOY AND ZIMMERMAN WITH ORDERS TO PROCEED ON THEIR MISSION
. THEIR PRESENT WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN, BUT STRONG POSSIBILITY EXISTS THEY WILL CONTACT UNDERSIGNED BEFORE LEAVING CHUNGKING SOMETIME WITHIN NEXT SEVEN TO TEN DAYS.
7. IN COMPLIANCE WITH ORDERS OF MAJGEN DEMPSEY, ALL FUTURE TRAFFIC UTILIZING SPECIAL CHANNEL WILL BE BROUGHT TO HIS OR BRIGGEN NEWLEY'S ATTENTION.
BANNING, LTCOL, USMC
T O P S E C R E T
"What the hell is this all about?" Pickering asked. He passed the document to Hart.
"It means magic may damned well be compromised," Rickabee said.
"Yeah," Pickering agreed thoughtfully.
"Who told this General Dempsey?" Pickering asked, then warmed to his anger. "And where did he get the idea he has the authority to tell my people what to do? And what the hell is this 'OSS station Chungking'? What OSS station Chungking?"
"The magic compromise, possible compromise, is more important than the Gobi Desert operation," Rickabee said. "This came in two hours ago. To confirm what I suspect, this is the first you've seen of it?"
"Yeah," Pickering said. "Damn!" He looked at Rickabee.
If it came in two hours ago, there was plenty of time to send it over here from the OSS.
"Where did you get it, Fritz?" Pickering asked evenly.
"One of my people was in the crypto room at Navy when it came in," Rickabee said. "A pal of Rutterman's, and an admirer of Banning and McCoy. He thought I would be interested in it, and defying just about every regulation in the book, he brought it to me. I don't know whether I should court-martial the sonofabitch or promote him for his initiative."
"This is the original?" Pickering asked, confused.
"No. That's the JCS file copy. You're supposed to have the original."
"And I damned sure don't!"
"Is Donovan going to be at lunch?" Rickabee asked.
"Oh, yeah. Marshall, Leahy, Donovan, me, and, of course Frank Knox and the President."
"You're in a minefield here, I guess you understand," Rickabee said. "We're in a minefield."
"You don't think Donovan is going to blame me for the compromise of MAGIC?"
"I don't know," Rickabee said. "I'm paid to look for the worst that can happen."
"General," Lieutenant Hart said, "the car is supposed to be downstairs right now."
"Okay," Pickering said as he rose to his feet and walked toward Hart, who was holding Pickering's tunic out to him. Pickering put it on and buttoned it, then, examining himself in the mirror, tugged at its skirt. Satisfied, he looked at Rickabee.
"He said his door would always be open to me. Let's see if that was just another campaign promise."
"Keep me posted," Rickabee said.
"Posted hell, General, you're going with me," Pickering said.
Neither the driver of the White House Packard limousine nor the Secret Service agent in the front seat raised any objection when Rickabee climbed into the car with Pickering and Hart. But when they drove across Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House, they were stopped by a determined guard at the gate. He was unimpressed with Rickabee's credentials as a Special Agent of Naval Intelligence, and immune to Pickering's announcement, "He's with me."
"I'm sorry, sir, the gentleman is not on my list, and I can't pass him."
"Get on the phone to either Admiral Leahy or General Marshall and tell him that General Pickering is here with General Rickabee and we have to see either of them immediately," Pickering ordered. Then he had another thought: "Tell them I am not coming in without General Rickabee."
The guard went into the guardhouse and returned two minutes later.
"Drive to the side entrance, please," he said. "Someone will meet you."
When they were met by an Army colonel wearing the insignia of an aide-decamp to a four-star general, Pickering concluded that the guard had spoken with either General George C. Marshall or someone empowered to act for him.
The colonel led them into an elevator, and they rode to the corridor outside the presidential apartments.
"I don't suppose any of you gentlemen are armed?" a Secret Service agent standing there asked politely.
"I am," Rickabee and Hart said, almost in unison. Rickabee took his.45 pistol from his shoulder holster and handed it to the Secret Service agent. Hart retrieved a snub-nosed.38 revolver from under his tunic and handed it over.
"I'll have to see what's in the briefcase," the Secret Service agent said.
"Not on your life," Rickabee said.
General George C. Marshall and Admiral William Leahy, trailed by Colonel William J. Donovan, came into the corridor. Donovan was in uniform-surprising Pickering. The top ribbon on his impressive row of brightly colored pieces of cloth was that representing the Medal of Honor he had won in France in the First World War.
"General," Leahy said.
"Admiral," Pickering said, "there's something I think I should bring to your immediate attention."
"A Special Channel from Chungking?"
"Yes, sir," Pickering said.
"May I ask what your aide is doing here, General?" Leahy said. "Before we get into this matter?"
"I asked the President if I might bring him to lunch," Pickering said. "And the President said, 'Absolutely.' "
"My God!" Donovan said in disbelief.
"Lieutenant Hart is cleared for magic, Admiral, and knows all about Operation Gobi."
Leahy looked as if he was about to say something, but General Marshall, perhaps innocently, perhaps intentionally, shut him off before he could speak. "Colonel Donovan was just about to give us his thoughts on that when you called from the gate," Marshall said. "You apparently have seen it?"
"Yes, sir," Pickering said, meeting Donovan's eyes. "The Special Channel I'm referring to was addressed to me."
"So I noticed," Marshall said. "I also noticed it was a Duplication Forbidden message."
"What Genera] Pickering has seen, General," Rickabee said, "is the Joint Chiefs' file copy."
Marshall looked at Rickabee closely, even coldly. "Which presumably you have in there?" he asked, indicating Rickabee's briefcase.
"Yes, sir," Rickabee said.
"General Marshall and I," Admiral Leahy said, "are agreed that despite the seriousness of the matter, it is still a matter that can be dealt with administratively. In other words, we shouldn't waste the President's time with it at luncheon. Does that pose a problem," he asked, looking first at Pickering and then at Donovan, "for either of you?"
"No, sir," Donovan said.
"Sir, I'm scheduled to depart from Anacostia at half past four," Pickering said. "Should I reschedule?"
"Why would you want to do that?" Donovan asked.
"I don't want to leave before this problem is dealt with," Pickering replied, but he looked at Leahy rather than at Donovan as he spoke.
"Once we decide who's responsible for this situation," Admiral Leahy said, "dealing with it won't take long. But to cover all the bases, while we're lunching with the President, General Rickabee, I don't think there will be any trouble setting another place for you at lunch."
"Aye, aye, sir," Rickabee said.
"And now, gentlemen," General Marshall said. "I suggest we join the President."
The President was in his wheelchair, sitting at the head of a table set for lunch. Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox was sitting beside him, his chair pulled close. Before them on the table was a stack of eight-by-ten-inch photographs that Roosevelt was examining carefully.
"What they have been doing, Frank," Roosevelt said, without taking his cigarette holder from his mouth, "is gathering their courage to face the lion in his den."
"Nothing like that at all, Mr. President," General Marshall said. "An administrative matter."
"I wonder why I have trouble believing that," Roosevelt said, smiling broadly.
" 'Administrative' can cover a lot of territory, Mr. President," Secretary Knox said.
"Good to see you, Fleming," the President said. "You're all prepared, I gather, for your trip to the mysterious East?"
; "And all points in between, sir," Pickering said.
"General Rickabee I know," the President said. "It's good to see you, Fritz."
"Good afternoon, Mr. President."