She hadn't thought that McCoy would be a problem. She could buy his silence in Washington the same way she had bought it in China...
Here come those smooth, muscular young male body thoughts again, Dear...
But Banning was one of those moral, highly principled men who would have loved to blow the whistle on her. His sense of right and wrong would have been offended if he ever found out that his Marines had risked their lives to protect jade that missionaries were illegally removing from China to line their own pockets.
But nothing was ever said about that. Ken McCoy kept his mouth shut, apparently. And just as apparently, Major Ed Banning did not know about the jade. Otherwise he would have blown the whistle.
Now, Ellen thought, as she walked into the bath and turned on the water, the whole affair is almost certainly buried forever. Even if something happens-and as stupid as the Reverend Glen T. Feller can sometimes be, that is a real possibility- and the smuggled jade comes to light, it probably won't touch me. I am now a respected, responsible senior civilian employee of Naval Intelligence, and if I say I don't know a thing about any jade, I will be believed. Especially if Captain Fleming Pickering comes to my aid, as he would probably do in any case. But he certainly will do that now that he's been in my bed.
As she adjusted the temperature of the water, she decided to shower rather than have a bath. So she pulled the thinga-mabob on the faucet. At that moment her lovemaking with Fleming Pickering flashed again into her mind. And it brought with it another one of those dangerous thoughts about smooth young muscular male bodies generally and Sergeant John Marston Moore specifically.
In bed, Fleming Pickering was everything that she hoped he would be, and more. He held his age well. Even his body had been firmer and more youthful than she expected.
It wasn't that he left me unsatisfied, but that he whetted my appetite; opened the floodgates, so to speak.
But I am not a fool. I am not going to risk what I have so carefully built up for so long by behaving like a bitch in heat. While it would be very nice to actually have John Marston Moore's smooth and muscular young body in my bed, I am going to have to do that in fantasy.
She turned the shower head so that it produced a strong, narrow stream of water, rather than a spray; and then she directed the stream where she thought it should go.
Sometimes, under the right circumstances, the fantasy is better than the actuality.
She sat down in the tub, slid against the sloping back side, and spread her legs. The stream of water struck the tub eight inches from the right spot.
"Damn!"
She stood up and moved toward the shower head again.
The screen door slammed, and a moment later, the front door. Sergeant John Marston Moore did that every time he came home. Thus every time he came home, the whole damned house shook.
She inhaled deeply. After that, she changed the shower flow back into a spray, and shifted the head again, so that it flowed onto her hair, instead of halfway down the tub. Then she picked up the soap and went ahead with her shower.
Fate, she thought. Kismet. I really didn't want to do it that way, anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
(One)
WATER LILY COTTAGE
MANCHESTER AVENUE
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA
1905 HOURS 13 AUGUST 1942
Three or four hairs popped up from the aureola of Sergeant John Marston Moore's nipples. Ellen Feller thought they were adorable. She toyed with them with her fingernail, watching them spring back into little coils when she turned them loose.
"Baby," she said, "if we're going to do this again, you're going to have to use something."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't want to find myself in the family way," Ellen said.
I should have thought of that before. God, was it the rum? Or how excited his shyness made me? For a while there, I was beginning to think that he was either a fairy or a virgin.
"Oh," he said. "I see what you mean. Are we going to do it again?"
"You don't sound very enthusiastic. You did a minute or two ago."
"I mean, is it smart? What if we got caught?"
"Who's going to catch us? Or didn't you like it?"
"It was great," Moore said.
And fuck you, Mrs. Howard P. Hawthorne. You are not the only fish in the sea. And your teats aren't as nice, either.
"It was great for me, too," she said. "I can't believe it happened."
"Me, either."
"You must think me terrible, giving in to you the way..."
"No. Not at all."
"I didn't have any idea you... were thinking of me in that way."
"It was the tennis dress," he said. "When you showed me your tennis dress."
"What about my tennis dress?"
"I thought your legs were great," he said.
I'll be damned. He's blushing again. How sweet!
"You really think so?" she asked, and threw the sheet off them.
"They're beautiful," he pronounced.
"Yours aren't so bad, either," she said, and ran her hand over his hip and then down his leg.
"There's a pro station at the barracks," he said. "But, Christ, I hate to go out there."
"What?"
"There's a pro station. When they give out the you-know-whats, at the barracks. But I hate to go out there."
"Maybe you could buy some at a drug store. What do they call them here, 'chemists'?"
"Yeah."
"Is there any chance that Hon is going to show up here?" she asked.
"I don't think so. He's going to play bridge with General MacArthur."
Thank God for small blessings!
"But he's going to want to know what we thought of the intercepts in the morning," Moore added.
"We'll have time," she said. "We have plenty of time. For everything. But what are we going to do about that?"
"About what?"
"You know very well what I mean," she said.
She moved her hand to his stirring erection and felt it
stiffen to her touch.
"I don't know," he said, and blushing again, which pleased her very much, he added: "I could get dressed and go look for a chemist's."
"We don't know if chemists even sell them," she said.
"That's right."
"There is one thing I could do," she said. "But I'm afraid you'd think I was terrible." "I would never think that."
"Oh, you're just saying that. You probably already think I'm really terrible." "No."
"Close your eyes, then," she ordered. He closed his eyes.
A moment later, she said, "Open them." He opened them. "Did you like that?" "Oh, yes."
"You want to watch me do it?" "Yes."
After a moment she stopped. "Some women like to do that," she said. "I love it." "I love it when you do it." "And some men like to do it to women." "Do they?"
"Do you want to do it to me?" "Do you want me to?" "Oh, yes, Baby." "Then, OK." "Close your eyes again." He felt her shifting around on the bed. What the hell, guys are always talking about it. It probably won't kill me.
(Two)
THE OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1605 HOURS 15 AUGUST 1942
Captain David Haughton, USN, signed the receipt for the TOP SECRET Eyes Only SecNav radio, smiled at the messenger, said "Thank you," and waited until the messenger had left before lifting the cover sheet and reading the document.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, frowning and shaking his head.
Then he stood up, went to the door to the Secretary's office, opened it, and stood there until the Secretary of the Navy sensed his presence and raised his eyes to him.
"Something important, David?"
"Guadalcanal has been heard from, Mr. Secretary."
"Do you mean Pickering's received the 'come home, all is more or less forgiven' radio? Or something else?"
Haughton handed him the Eyes Only.
Knox's face tightened as he read it. He looked up at Haughton.
"What is this, David, do you think? A blatant defiance of the radio? Who the hell does he think he is? 'The undersigned has temporarily assumed duties of First Marine Division G-2.' By what authority?"
"Sir, I don't know. But I would be inclined to give Captain Pickering the benefit of the doubt. The second paragraph caught my eye."
Knox read the Eyes Only again.
"Good Christ, do think he's trying to tell us that Goettge or one of the other officers had a MAGIC clearance?"
"Mr. Secretary, he didn't say 'Killed in Action,' he said 'lost in combat.' That suggests the possibility that they may have been captured. If you go with that line of reasoning, paragraph two makes some sense."
"How quickly can you find out if any of these people had access to MAGIC?"
"They're not on the list I'm familiar with. Maybe Naval Intelligence has added some others-cryptographer-that sort of thing. And 1 think, Sir, that we may have to consider the possibility that Captain Pickering brought Colonel Goettge, officially or otherwise, in on it."
It was a moment before Knox replied.
"That's one of your 'worst possible scenarios,' David, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, I thank you for it. I appreciate why you had to bring that up. I am unable to believe that he would do that. He knows what's at stake."
"Yes, Sir."
"Find out from Naval Intelligence... you had better check with the Army, too, while you're at it. And in person. Stay off the phone. See if any of these names ring a bell."
"Yes, Sir."
"Let me know the minute you find out, one way or the other."
"Yes, Sir."
"I just thought of another worst possible case scenario, David," Knox said. "Pickering gets himself captured."
"I think we have to consider that possibility, Sir."
"Send an urgent radio to Admiral Nimitz. Tell him to get Pickering off Guadalcanal now. I don't care if he has to send a PT boat for him. I want him off of Guadalcanal as soon as possible."
"Yes, Sir."
"Sir," Captain David Haughton, USN, reported to the Secretary of the Navy not quite two hours later, "I think I've come up with something."
"Let's have it. I'm due at the White House in fifteen minutes."
"Neither Colonel Goettge nor Captain Ringer was cleared for MAGIC. And it is my opinion, and that of the Chief of Naval Intelligence, Sir, that it is unlikely that either of them ever heard more than the name."
"Unless, of course, Pickering talked too much to Goettge."
"I think we can discount that, too, Sir. Colonel Goettge visited Captain Pickering in Australia. While he was there, he apparently picked up on the word. MAGIC, I mean. He sent a back channel communication to General Forrest-the Marine Corps G-2-"
"I know who he is," Knox said impatiently.
"Yes, Sir. He said that he had heard the word MAGIC and wanted to know what it was. He and General Forrest are old friends, Sir."
"I know how it works. Get on with it."
"Forrest is MAGIC cleared. He replied to Goettge that he had never heard of MAGIC, and then reported the message to the Chief of Naval Intelligence."
"What you're suggesting is that if Pickering had told Goettge, there would have been no back channel message to General Forrest?"
"Yes, Sir."
Knox considered that a moment.
"OK," he said finally. "But what the hell was Pickering driving at? If, indeed, he was suggesting anything at all?"
"Lieutenant Cory, Sir, was a civilian employee of Naval Communications Intelligence, here in Washington."
"So I am going to have to tell the President that MAGIC has been compromised?"
"I don't think so, Sir. What's happened, Sir, I think, is that if anything Naval Intelligence erred on the side of caution to preserve the integrity of MAGIC."
"I don't understand a thing you just said."
"Lieutenant Cory did not have a MAGIC clearance."
"Thank God!"
"But the crypto people, the intelligence people, the intelligence community, I guess is what I'm trying to say, being the way they are, it occurred to somebody that he might have heard the name at least, and possibly had guessed what it was all about."
"So?"
"So a special radio was sent to General Vandergrift directing him to make sure that Lieutenant Cory did not fall into enemy hands."
"How was he supposed to do that?" Knox asked.
"I didn't get into that, Sir."
"Well, he didn't, did he? Cory may well indeed be a prisoner of the Japanese?"
"I think we have to consider that possibility, Sir."
Knox snorted.
"You're suggesting that Vandergrift told Pickering about the message vis-…-vis Cory? And that's what Pickering was driving at?"
"Yes, Sir, that's what I think."
"This is not enough to take to the President," Knox decided aloud. "But I want Nimitz radioed tonight, Dave, telling him to get Pickering off Guadalcanal."
"I took care of that, Sir," Haughton said, and handed him an onion skin.
URGENT
WASHINGTON DC 1710 15AUG42 SECRET
FROM: NAVY DEPARTMENT TO: CINCPAC PEARL HARBOR TH
FOR THE PERSONAL, IMMEDIATE ATTENTION OF ADMIRAL NIMITZ
INASMUCH AS THE PRESENCE OF CAPTAIN FLEMING PICKERING USNR, PRESENTLY ATTACHED TO
HEADQUARTERS 1ST MARINE DIVISION, IS URGENTLY REQUIRED IN WASHINGTON, THE SECRETARY OF THE
NAVY DIRECTS THAT EXTRAORDINARY EFFORT CONSISTENT WITH CAPTAIN PICKERING PERSONAL SAFETY
BE MADE TO WITHDRAW THIS OFFICER FROM GUADALCANAL BY AIR OR SEA, AND THAT HE BE ADVISED OF
PROGRESS MADE IN COMPLIANCE WITH THIS ORDER.
DAVID HAUGHTON, CAPT USN, ADMIN ASST TO SECNAV
(Three)
TEMPORARY BUILDING T-2032
THE MALL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1750 HOURS 15 AUGUST 1942
Lieutenant Colonel F.L. Rickabee, USMC, was in his shirtsleeves, his tie was pulled down, and he was visibly feeling the heat and humidity, when Brigadier General Horace W. T. Forrest, Assistant Chief of Staff, Intelligence, Headquarters, USMC, walked into his office.
"Good evening, Sir," he said, standing up. "I hope the General will pardon my appearance, Sir."
"Don't be silly, Rickabee," Forrest said. "Christ, I hate Washington in the summer."
"I don't put any modifiers on the basic sentiment, Sir," Rickabee said dryly.
Forrest looked at him and chuckled.
"There's ice tea, Sir, and lemonade, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone defied my strict orders and hid a bottle of spirits or two in one of these filing cabinets."
"I'd like a beer, if that's possible."
"Aye, aye, Sir," Rickabee said. "Excuse me."
He went through a wooden door and came back in a moment with two bottles of beer and a glass.
"Keep the glass, thank you," General Forrest said. He raised the beer bottle.
"Frank Goettge," he said and took a pull.
"Frank Goettge," Rickabee parroted and took a sip. "Was there any special reason for that, Sir?"
"Frank's dead. Or at least missing and presumed dead."
"Jesus Christ! What happened, Sir?"
"I don't know. I know only that. I got it from the Commandant thirty minutes ago. He got it from the Secretary of the Navy. There have been no after-action reports, casualty reports, anything else. I can only presume that Frank Knox got it directly from that commissioned civilian he sent over there... what's his name?"
"Pickering, Sir."
"... as his personal snoop. Pickering is on Guadalcanal. Did you know that?"
"No, Sir. I did not."
"The Secretary of the Navy has directed the Commandant to replace Colonel Goettge immediately with a suitably qualified officer. Don't waste our time suggesting yourself. You're cleared for MAGIC. You ca
n't go."
The Corps IV - Battleground Page 47