"What's wrong with it?" Lieutenant Lewis asked.
"Big Steve and I have a couple of ideas," McGuire said. "This will work, but it can be done faster. Safer. With fewer fumes. Big Steve says he wouldn't want to shut down his engines in rough water in the Yellow Sea, and we don't want the airplanes to blow up."
Lewis grunted, then leaned over the bridge and spoke to the helmsman.
"You want to start pumping that thing again, son?"
When the dials on the radio lit up, he picked up the microphone.
"I think that's it," he announced. "You can head back to Ewa." Then he turned to Lieutenant Schneider. "As soon as we get the boats back aboard, and the jerry cans, we can start for home," he said. "And on the way, Major Dillon will explain to you what this is all about."
[TWO]
Chungking, China
1515 7 April 1943
The first thing Brigadier General Fleming Pickering noticed as the B-17 turned off the active runway onto a taxiway was the contrast between Espiritu Santo and here. Espiritu Santo was a forward base, but it was neat and clean and looked new. This was China, where very little was neat, clean, or new.
When the aircraft had been parked and the engines shut down, he went through the door in the fuselage and stretched his legs.
This smells like China, too, he thought.
If I never have to get on another B-17 as long as I live, it will be too soon.
The pilot came through the door. "The tower says they will try to find us a truck, sir," he said. "It looks like a hell of a walk from here to base operations.
"That was an interesting flight," he went on. "It reset my longest flight record by an hour and ten minutes."
"How much fuel did we have left?"
"I don't believe the General really wants to know that, sir. We ran into some really stiff head winds."
"You're right, I don't want to know," Pickering said. "Well, why don't you and I hike to base operations? Maybe I can pull a little rank in person and get us a truck."
They were halfway to base operations when two Studebaker President sedans came down the taxiway. The first, driven by a sergeant, carried the starred plate of a brigadier general, and Pickering saw Brigadier General H. A. Albright and a younger officer riding in the backseat.
Probably his brand-new aide-de-camp to go with his brand-new star. It didn't take him long to take advantage of a general's perks, did it?
What the hell is that matter to me? Albright is a damned good man, who would have been a general long ago if it hadn't been for that idiot, that Secretary of the Joint Chiefs.
The second car was driven by an Army captain. There were two officers in the backseat. One of them was Colonel John J. Waterson. The other was an Army lieutenant colonel.
That, no doubt, is the Chungking station chief, whose name I still don't know.
Where's Banning? I wonder. And McCoy?
Albright's car stopped beside them, and Albright was out of the backseat before the driver could get out of the front seat to open the door for him. He saluted. "Welcome to Chungking, General," he said.
"It's good to see you," Pickering said, desperately searching his memory for Albright's first name. "Especially with that star on your collar." The name didn't come.
"Being a general is not what I thought it would be," Albright said.
"My experience exactly," Pickering said. "But that was a well-deserved promotion."
The second Studebaker had by then stopped, and Waterson and the two officers got out.
They all saluted.
"How are you, Jack?" Pickering said to Colonel Waterson, offering his hand, pleased that he could remember his first name.
"Did you have a good flight, sir?"
"It was a very long flight," Pickering said. "There is no such thing as a good very long flight."
Everyone chuckled.
Dutifully, of course. That wasn't very funny. But I am a general.
"Sir, may I introduce Colonel Richard C. Platt?" Waterson said. "The Chungking station chief?"
"Welcome to Chungking, General," Platt said. He was a rather handsome lieutenant colonel, wearing the crossed cannons of Artillery.
"Thank you," Pickering said.
"And this is my adjutant," Platt said. "Captain Jerry Sampson."
Nice-looking kid, Pickering thought. About as old as Pick.
"I believe I have the privilege of the General's acquaintance, sir," Captain Sampson said.
I don't remember ever having seen this fellow before.
"Oh, have we met?"
"I was trying to remember where, sir. Possibly in Shanghai. My father- Harrison Sampson?-was general manager of First National City Bank. And then I was at Harvard with Malcolm."
"Malcolm" ? God, he means Pick. But no one's called Pick "Malcolm" since the day he was christened. So they weren't buddies. What is this kid trying to do, charm me?
What was it Drew Pearson said OSS stood for? "Oh So Social" ?
"I remember your father, of course," Pickering said, and shook his hand. He turned to Albright. "With that new star on your collar, Hugh," he said-Thank God! His name came to me-"I presume you've got some influence around here? We need a truck."
"I think I can get you a truck, General, but to answer your question, do I have any influence around here? Very little. Almost none."
Pickering introduced the OSS officers to the pilot and then to Lieutenant Hart, who had taken their baggage off the plane. "The Captain and his crew need a place to stay. With good beds and decent food," Pickering said.
"I suggest, sir," Albright said, "that you and I need a moment alone, before General Stillwell learns you're here and sends for you."
Pickering saw that neither Waterson nor Platt liked that announcement.
"I want to see him, too, as soon as possible," Pickering said. "But not until I've had a shower and a shave. And a chance to talk to you, Waterson, and Banning. Where is Banning, by the way?"
"General, General Stillwell has left word with the air base commander that he wants to see you immediately after you get off the plane," Colonel Platt said.
"Did you give the tower General Pickering's name, Captain?" Albright said.
"I'm afraid I did, sir."
"Then he will expect to see you immediately, sir," Albright said.
"What's the rush about seeing General Stillwell?" Pickering asked.
"Right now, he hates everybody connected with his having been ordered to relieve Dempsey and Newley," Albright said. "And he thinks you're the man responsible."
"Is there someplace where I can get a quick shower and change my uniform?"
"You'll be staying at the VIP guest house, General," Colonel Platt said.
"Doesn't the OSS have a house here?" Pickering asked.
"Yes, sir, of course, we do," Colonel Platt said. "But I felt you would be more comfortable in the VIP house."
"If General Stillwell has left word here that he wants to see me, I'll bet he left word at the VIP place," Pickering said. "So long as I don't have his invitation to come to see him, I can't be accused of ignoring it, can I? And I have no intention of going to see General Stillwell looking like a bum and smelling like a horse."
"There's a staff car coming this way," George Hart said. "That might be the air base commander."
"Waterson, you have not heard about General Stillwell's kind invitation, and I did not tell you where I was going."
"Yes, sir."
"And you can take care of the Captain and his crew? Get them a truck, whatever they need?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll want a word with you, too, and you, too, Colonel Platt, before I see General Stillwell. Will you meet me at the OSS house?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let's go, Albright," Pickering said, and quickly got into Albright's Stude-baker.
Hart hastily stuffed their luggage in the trunk, then crowded into the front seat beside General Albright's aide-de-camp.
At the last moment
, Captain Jerry Sampson jumped into the backseat.
"Colonel Platt suggested I go with you, sir, to take care of things at the house."
"Fine. Thank you," Pickering said, although he was annoyed. He had things to discuss with Albright he could not discuss within the hearing of Sampson.
Or for that matter, in the hearing of either Albright's aide or his driver. So no harm done.
"You never told me where Banning is," he said to Albright.
"He's either in the crypto room-with the Special Channel up; there's a lot of traffic-or out looking for McCoy."
" 'Looking for McCoy'? That sounds as if he's missing."
"Yes, sir," Albright said.
Pickering bit off the impulse to ask for details.
That, too, will have to wait until we're alone.
It was impossible to tell from the cobblestone street what was behind the gray stucco wall surrounding the building on three sides. The compound backed up against a vertical sandstone hill. The wall was topped with broken glass bottles that looked as if they had been there for half a century, and by coiled barbed wire now uniformly covered with rust. On an ornate wrought-iron gate now-rusty corrugated-steel sheets had been affixed, to keep people from seeing what was inside.
A guard shack was occupied by two Chinese soldiers, wearing quilted cold-weather jackets and trousers. Both were armed with Thompson.45-caliber submachine guns. One of them came out of the guard shack when the Studebaker stopped before the gate. He saluted and then pulled the gate open.
Pickering wondered if the guard knew Albright by sight, which was possible, or if he simply passed any car with a general's star on it, in which case security might just be a little lax.
Inside the wall, Pickering saw a three-story, tile-roofed old building, with its rear wall against the sandstone hill, and four small outbuildings, three against the left wall and one against the street-side wall.
Several vehicles were parked nose-in against the front wall of the house: four jeeps, battered and unwashed; a Dodge three-quarter-ton weapons carrier; a Dodge ambulance, with the usual Red Crosses painted over not quite completely with a brownish paint that did not match the olive drab of the rest of the body; and another Studebaker President sedan.
Heavy closed shutters were on all the windows. Pickering wondered if they were closed for security or as protection against the freezing winds.
Captain Sampson jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped. "I'll get things set up inside," he said.
"All I need, Hugh, is a place to take a shower and to have a word with you." Pickering said to General Albright.
"You make these people nervous, General," Albright said, "in case you haven't noticed."
Pickering got out of the car and walked to its rear, intending to help Hart with their luggage.
Three Chinese in black ankle-length gowns not unlike a priest's vestments came trotting out of the house and snatched the luggage from their hands.
Captain Sampson appeared at the door. "What I've done. General, is put you into our visitor's room," he said. "It's not much-"
"All I want to do, Captain," Pickering said, "is have a quick shower and change my uniform."
"Yes, sir."
They followed him into the house, through an empty foyer furnished with large, dark, and uncomfortable-looking furniture, and up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. Halfway down a narrow corridor illuminated with bare bulbs, Sampson pushed a door open and waved Pickering into a large, sparsely furnished room. The house boys scurried into the room after them with the luggage and started to unpack it.
"That can wait," Pickering said. "Where's the shower?"
"Right in here, sir," Sampson said, and showed him a small bathroom. It was equipped with a showerhead on a rubber hose and a hole-in-the floor toilet. A china toilet bowl and seat had been jury rigged over the toilet.
"If you like, sir, I can put you in Colonel Platt's room."
"This will do," Pickering said. "Thank you, Captain. That will be all."
"Would the General like a cup of coffee? Something else, perhaps?"
"That will be all, Captain. Thank you," Pickering said.
He waited until Sampson had left.
"Okay, Hugh, first of all, tell me about Captain McCoy. What is this missing business?"
"When Banning got here and Dempsey was being an ass, Banning told McCoy to disappear. To stay in touch, but to disappear. He's disappeared, except for one visit here, when he asked for Banning and disappeared again. He had a run-in with Platt."
"What kind of a run-in?"
"Platt told him to stay here, consider himself part of the station, no matter what his orders from Banning. Frankly, I would have told him the same thing under the circumstances."
"And McCoy elected not to?"
"That's the last time anyone has seen him. Or Zimmerman."
"Do you think something's happened to him?"
"Banning feels that McCoy can take care of himself," Albright said. "I wish I shared his confidence."
"See if you can get word to Banning to come here. Before I go to see General Stillwell, if possible. But come here. I need to talk to him."
"Yes, sir."
"Is there anything I should know before I see Stillwell?"
"He really doesn't like what's happened," Albright said. "He made a point of telling me I was acting signal officer, pending his discussion with you."
"I guess I should have asked this first: how badly has magic been compromised?"
"I don't really know. General Dempsey won't talk to me."
"What do you mean, Dempsey won't talk to you?"
"He has the right, under The Manual for Courts-Martial, 1928, to refuse to answer any question that might tend to incriminate him. And that's what he's doing."
"Christ!"
"The sooner you get over there and see Stillwell, the better," Albright said. "By now, he knows you're here."
"I need a shower, and I'm going to have one," Pickering said.
"I suggest you make it a quick one," Albright said.
"Anything else I should know?"
"To further brighten your day, General, Platt knows all about Operation Gobi, and has his own Opplan-already furnished to Donovan-which he feels is considerably better than yours."
"That wouldn't be hard," Pickering said. "But who told him about Operation Gobi?"
"I don't know," Albright said.
"Okay, Hugh, that's enough bad news for now. Let me have my shower."
Pickering came out of the bathroom wearing only a used towel. It offered little protection against the damp chill, and he was shivering.
He saw with genuine gratitude that Hart had laid out a change of underwear and a clean shirt on the bed for him. He walked quickly to it and pulled a T-shirt over his head. Hart, meanwhile, was trying to get the wrinkles out of their clean uniforms, which were hanging from a light fixture on the wall.
"Thanks, George," he said, as he reached for his shorts.
"We have a shoe problem, General," Hart said.
"What?"
"This is no place to wear low-quarters," Hart said. "Snow, mud, dirt, et cetera. The Army's wearing-did you notice?-boots, like boondockers, except that they have a strap thing on the top, you tuck your trousers in it. General Albright was wearing them?" The USMC ankle-high field shoe, constructed with the rough side of the leather out, were known as boondockers.
"I didn't notice," Pickering confessed. "I don't think I would have noticed if Albright's pants were on fire."
"And they shine them."
"They shine boondockers?" Pickering asked incredulously.
"Their version, yes, sir. And what we have is boondockers. I didn't think to pack puttees."
"Good thinking. I didn't wear puttees on Guadalcanal, and I'm not going to wear them here. Can you get us, do you think, some of the Army shoes?"
"Aye, aye, sir, I'll get us some."
"In the meantime, we have boondockers?"
&
nbsp; "Yes, sir," Hart said, and went to Pickering's luggage. As he bent over it, Pickering saw that he had a Colt Model 1911A1.45 pistol in the small of his back.
"What happened to your.38, George?" Pickering asked.
W E B Griffin - Corp 08 - In Dangers Path Page 58