Ten minutes before, room service delivered hamburgers and two wine coolers full of iced beer.
After Banning wolfed his down, he was embarrassed to see that no one else was so ravenous. Captain Haughton, he saw, had hardly touched his.
"There's another under the cover," Senator Fowler said. "I ordered it for you. I didn't think you'd have a hell of a lot to eat on the way from San Francisco."
"I'm a little embarrassed," Banning said, but lifted the silver cover and took the extra hamburger.
"Don't be silly," Fowler said.
There was a rap at the door.
"Come in," Senator Fowler called. "It's unlocked."
The door opened. A neatly dressed man in his early thirties stepped inside.
"Senator Fowler?"
"Right."
"I'm from the White House, Senator. I have a Presidential document for you."
"Let's have it," the Senator said.
"Sir, may I see some identification?"
"Christ!" Fowler said, but went to the chair where he had tossed his suit jacket and came up with an identification card.
"Thank you, Sir," the man said, and handed him a large manila envelope.
"Do I have to sign for it?"
"That won't be necessary, Sir," the courier said, nodded, and walked out.
Fowler ripped open the envelope, took out a single sheet of paper, read it, and grunted. Then he handed it to Captain Haughton, who was holding an almost untouched glass of beer.
"Pass it around when you're through," Fowler said.
THE WHITE HOUSE
Washington, D.C.
17 October 1942
To The Joint Chiefs of Staff:
My anxiety about the Southwest Pacific is to make sure that every possible weapon gets into that area to hold Guadalcanal.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
"I don't know what this means," Banning said, a little thickly, when he'd read it and passed it to Sessions.
"It means that if either Nimitz or MacArthur is holding anything back for their own agendas, if they are smart, they will now send it to Guadalcanal," Fowler said.
Banning grunted.
"Major, if you were God, what would you send to Guadalcanal?"
"Everything," Banning said.
"In what priority?"
"I don't really know," Banning said. "I suppose the most important thing would be to keep the Japanese from building up their forces on the island. And I suppose that means reinforcing the Cactus Air Force."
"I think they can do that," Fowler said. "God, I hope they can."
He poured a little more beer in his glass, then smiled. "Another question?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"What was Jake Dillon doing on that hush-hush mission Pickering set up?"
"I don't think I understand the question, Sir."
"I've known Jake a long time," Fowler said. "Don't misunderstand me. I like him. But Jake is a press agent. A two-fisted drinker. And one hell of a ladies' man. But I'm having trouble picturing him doing anything serious."
"I think you underestimate him, Senator," Banning said, aware that Fowler's question angered him. "That mission wouldn't have gone off as well as it did, if it hadn't been for Dillon. Perhaps it wouldn't have gone off at all."
"Really?" Captain Haughton asked, surprised.
"Yes, Sir," Banning said.
"You want to explain that?" Fowler asked.
How the hell did I get involved in this?
"Major Dillon can get people to do things they would rather not do," Banning said.
"With Dillon on orders signed by Admiral Leahy, it wasn't a question of whether anyone wanted to do what he asked them to do, was it?" Captain Haughton argued.
"Even though Commander Feldt of the Coastwatchers is, kindly, often difficult to deal with," Banning said quietly, "Dillon got Feldt to send his best native into Buka. Even though they were understandably reluctant to have one of their very few submarines hang around Buka a moment longer than necessary, he got the Australian Navy to let that sub lie offshore for three days in case they had to try to get our people off the beach. He got MAG-21, the Cactus Air Force, to loan the best R4D pilot around to fly the R4D that made the landing, even though he was one of their fighter squadron commanders."
"As opposed to what?" Senator Fowler asked.
"As opposed to having sacrificial lambs sent in. Nobody thought the operation was going to work. Dillon convinced them it would. There are ways to get around orders, even orders signed by Admiral Leahy."
"I'm surprised," Senator Fowler said. "I'd never thought of Jake as a heavyweight."
"He's a heavyweight, Senator," Banning said flatly. "I was going to-I got busy at Pearl, and didn't get around to it-to recommend to General Pickering that he be assigned to Management Analysis."
"We've already returned him to Public Affairs," Sessions said. "Effective on his arrival in the States."
"If something comes up, Banning," Colonel Rickabee said. "We can get him back."
Then Rickabee stood up.
"I've got some orders for you, Banning. Take a week off. At General Pickering's orders, you will stay here. That doesn't mean you can't leave town, but I don't want it to get back to General Pickering that you've moved into a BOQ. A week from tomorrow morning, not a second sooner, I'll see you in the office." He paused. "Now get some sleep. And a haircut. You look like hell."
[ONE]
Naval Air Transport Service Terminal
Brisbane, Australia
0815 Hours 17 October 1942
The bay was choppy. Landing was a series of more or less controlled crashes against the water. Brigadier General Fleming Pickering was almost surprised these didn't jar parts-large parts, such as engines-off the Mariner.
Maneuvering from the Mariner into the powerboat sent out to meet it was difficult, and the ride to shore was not pleasant.
The tide was out, which explained to Pickering the chop (a function of shallow water). It also made climbing from the powerboat onto the ladder up the side of the wharf a little dicey. Halfway up the ladder, behind a rear admiral who was obviously a very cautious man, it occurred to Pickering that he had failed to send a message ahead that he was arriving.
Not only would he have to find wheels someplace, but he didn't really know where to go. It was probable that Ellen Feller would be in Water Lily Cottage. And he did not want to deal with her just yet.
The admiral finally made it onto the wharf, and Pickering raised his head above it.
"Ten-hut," an Army Signal Corps lieutenant called out. "Pre-sent, H-arms!"
Two Marine lieutenants and a Marine sergeant, forming a small line, saluted. The rear admiral, looking a little confused, returned the salute.
That's not for you, you jackass.
Pickering climbed onto the wharf and returned the salute.
"How are you, Pluto?" he said to First Lieutenant Hon Song Do, Signal Corps, U.S. Army, and put out his hand.
"Welcome home, General," Pluto said, smiling broadly.
Pickering turned to a tall, thin, pale Marine second lieutenant, and touched his shoulder.