«Very little.»
«There is an overall command,» Admiral Nimitz said. «The China-Burma-India theatres of operation. Theatres, plural. Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten is the Supreme Commander. He's in New Delhi. As of this moment, he does not have magic, although over the objections of Admiral Leahy and General Marshall, he's going to get it.
«There is also, under CBI, the China theatre of operations, with Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek the theatre commander. He asked for, and got, an American chief of staff. General Joseph Stillwell. Stillwell is also the commanding general of the U.S. military mission to China.
«The President has similarly decided that Chiang Kai-shek will be given magic access. Again over the objections of Admiral Leahy and General Marshall. Probably in the hope that the President can be persuaded to change his mind, neither Chiang Kai-shek nor General Stillwell, so far as I know, has been told either that magic exists or that they are to be given access to it,» Nimitz concluded, and then asked, «This is the first time you're hearing this?»
«I knew, sir, of Admiral Leahy's reluctance to give Mountbatten and Chiang Kai-shek magic access.»
«Inasmuch as General Stillwell knows nothing of magic—except probably that something with that name exists, classified Top Secret—there has been no reason for him to impress on his staff the absolute necessity to keep magic uncompromised. So far as General Stillwell is concerned, it is just one more Top Secret project, and he has filing cabinets full of those.»
«I think I'm beginning to get the picture, sir,» Pickering said.
«Go on, Groscher,» Nimitz ordered.
«So General Dempsey hears that he is going to get magic and a magic clearance, which means he is now important. He wants to share this proud accomplishment with somebody. So he shares it with his deputy. Why not? He doesn't know that magic is not just one more military secret. His deputy has a Top Secret clearance. So he tells him. The deputy now feels important. He needs to tell somebody. And since he doesn't know how really important magic is,
he
feels safe in telling a trusted subordinate, one who has a Top Secret clearance. And so on.»
«I'm very afraid Groscher may be right,» Admiral Nimitz said. «And I think that's why General Marshall wants you to be in Chungking as soon as you can get there, Pickering. You will be the OSS delegate from JCS—for that matter, from the President himself—to General Stillwell. I think you are expected to impress on him the importance of keeping magic really secret, and also to let them know in Washington how far down the chain the breaking of the secret has gone.»
«I'm comfortable with the first part, sir,» Pickering said. «But I'm not at all sure I'm competent to judge how far magic has been compromised.»
«Like an ONI or CIC agent would be?» Groscher asked.
«Right.»
«To know what they were looking for, an ONI or CIC agent would have to be told about magic,» Groscher said. «Too many people already know about magic.»
«There is a B-17 laid on for you, Pickering,» Admiral Nimitz said. «Whenever you're ready to go, it will take you to Espiritu Santo, where—courtesy of our friend Douglas MacArthur, who also feels it important that you talk with Stillwell in Chungking as soon as possible—another B-17 will be waiting to take you, via India, to Chungking.»
«Sir, I really would like to see how my people are coming—«
«They have been told to have the aircraft available as of 0700 tomorrow morning,» Nimitz interrupted him. «Will that give you enough time to see what you have to see here?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Admiral Wagam is aware of my interest in the Gobi Desert project, and has been asked to make sure that we're doing whatever we can to get that moving,» Nimitz said.
Admiral Nimitz put out his hand. «I have every confidence, Pickering, that you are the man who will do what has to be done in Chungking,» he said.
«Thank you, sir,» Pickering replied, and realized that he was being dismissed.
note 71
U.S. Highway 98
Near Pensacola, Florida
2130 3 April 1943
A billboard was by the side of the road, getting a little seedy, and no longer illuminated, but Captain James B. Weston, USMC, could easily read it when the headlights of his Buick convertible flashed over it.
The San Carlos Hotel
Pensacol's Best
Air
Conditioned Rooms
and Suites
Swimming Pool
Restaurant-Cocktail Lounge Bar
Free Parking
Downtown Pensacola
The sign triggered a stream of thoughts in Captain Weston's somewhat weary brain:
I
can get a room there, and go out to the base first thing in the morning
.
What I really need right now is a couple of drinks. I can either go to the bar, or have the bellboy bring me a bottle.
And if I get a room there, I can call Martha. She expects me. But God, I don't want to see her. Not tonight. Not until I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do.
That makes sense, get a room, call Martha, and then get a bottle and have a couple of drinks, and get some sleep. If I don't have a couple of drinks, I'll never get to sleep.
So I'll call Martha and tell her I'm in the San Carlos…
Whereupon she will say, «I'll be right there, darling», or words to that effect.
An image of Mrs. Martha Sayre Culhane in her birthday suit jumped into his brain, accompanied by astonishingly clear and sharp memories of how warm, soft, and exciting the various parts of Martha's anatomy were.
And would be if she came to the San Carlos.
You really are a rotten sonofabitch, Weston. Despicable. Beyond contempt.
You really would do that to her. Exactly as you took advantage of Janice's innocence, her inability to suspect what a conscienceless prick you really are.
An image of Lieutenant (j.g.) Janice Hardison, NC, USNR, in her birthday suit jumped into his brain, accompanied by astonishingly clear and sharp memories of how warm, soft, and exciting the various parts of Janice's anatomy had been in the room in the Benjamin Franklin immediately before he departed Philadelphia for Pensacola.
Though he hadn't actually given his own character much serious consideration until very recently—until Janice Hardison had entered his life, and Martha Sayre Culhane had reentered it—Captain Weston had believed that his character was as good as most, and possibly even a little better than some people's. When he spoke, for example, he told the truth. He was, after all, a Marine officer. Marine officers do not lie.
And he had thought of himself as a gentleman, as well. Perhaps not in the same leagues as Sir Galahad or Cary Grant, but a gentleman nonetheless. A gentleman, he had heard somewhere and believed, never intentionally hurts the feelings of others. A gentleman never takes advantage of the weak, male or female, but with obvious emphasis on the gentle sex.
And of course, when a gentleman does something he knows goddamn well is wrong, he quickly confesses the error of his ways to the individual wronged, tries to make amends, and willingly accepts whatever punishment is involved.