"Came in an hour ago, General," Keller said.
Pickering shifted in the seat so that Jeanette could not see what it was when he unfolded it.
TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL
SPECIAL CHANNEL
ONE COPY ONLY
EYES ONLY BRIG GEN FLEMING PICKERING USMCR
BLAIR HOUSE 0235 28 SEPTEMBER 1950
IN THE ABSENCE OF A REALLY COMPELLING REASON PRECLUDING YOUR TRAVEL, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE
YOU HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. BEST PERSONAL REGARDS HARRY S TRUMAN
TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL
Pickering refolded the message and handed it to Hart.
"Read that, don't comment," he ordered, "and then do the magic trick for Jeanette."
"Magic trick?" Jeanette asked. "What was that? Am I allowed to ask?"
"No, you're not. Show her, George."
Hart turned to the backseat. He waved the sheet of paper in his hand.
"Now you see it, Jeanette . . ." he said.
He produced a Zippo lighter, flicked it open and touched the flame to the sheet of paper. There was a sudden white flash and a small cloud of smoke.
The sheet of paper disappeared.
". . . and now you don't," Hart finished unnecessarily.
"Jesus Christ, what was that?" Jeanette asked.
"That would be telling, Jeanette," Pickering said. "When we get to McCoy's house, set that up, please, George, including the appropriate reply."
"Yes, sir. When do we go?"
"I thought it said, 'as soon as possible,' " Pickering said. Yes, sir.
[FOUR]
Mo. 7 Saku-Tun Denenchofu,
Tokyo, Japan
1915 29 September 195O
A middle-aged Japanese woman in a black kimono came through the steel gate in the wall around McCoy's house, bowed to the black Buick, then went back inside the wall. A moment later, the double gates farther down the wall opened, and Keller drove the car inside.
Mrs. Ernestine Sage McCoy, who was standing outside the door of the sprawling, one-floor Japanese house, was also wearing a black kimono.
Pickering decided she was wearing it as a maternity dress rather than a cultural statement of some kind. He also thought that it was true that being in the family way did indeed give women sort of a glow. Ernie looked radiant.
She came down the shallow flight of stairs as Fleming, Jeanette, Hart, and Keller got out of the Buick.
As Ernie hugged Fleming, he could feel the swelling of her belly against him.
"How are you, sweetheart?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said. "The question seems to be, How are the men in our extended little family?"
"Ken's fine," Jeanette answered for him. "He looked like a recruiting poster when I saw him. Pick is still among the missing."
"Ken told me they had missed him by no more than a couple of hours yesterday," Pickering said. "They'll find him, I'm sure."
"Well, come on in the house, all of you, and have a drink. I didn't know how many of you were coming, or when, so dinner will have to be started from scratch."
"Then I'll have time to take a shower?" Jeanette asked. "Shower, hell, a long hot bath?"
"Come on with me," Ernie said. "Uncle Flem, you know where the bar is."
She put her arm around Jeanette and started to lead her into the interior of the house.
"Wow," Ernie said, first sniffing and then wrinkling her nose. "You really do need a bath, don't you?"
"You can go to hell," Jeanette said.
The middle-aged Japanese woman and a younger Japanese woman were already in the living room when Pickering led the others in. There were four bottles on the bar: bourbon, scotch, vodka, and beer.
The men indicated their choices—two scotches and a bourbon—by pointing. The young woman made the drinks, and the older woman put them on a tray and served them. The younger woman left the room, returning in a moment with a tray of bacon-wrapped smoked oysters.
Ernie came in as the oysters were being served.
"I would really like a very stiff one of those," she said. "But I am being the perfect pregnant woman."
"Good for you, sweetheart," Pickering said. "How about an oyster and a glass of soda?"
"Take what you can, when you can get it," Ernie said, and said something in Japanese to the younger woman, who started to fill a glass with soda water.
She turned to Pickering.
"Was Ken telling Jeanette the truth about Pick? Or whistling in the wind to make her feel good?"
"The truth, I'm sure," Pickering said.
"I really feel sorry for her," Ernie said.
"Ernie, two things. Thank you for dinner, but no thank you. MacArthur has invited me for dinner, and George and Paul have got things to do."
"Things that won't wait until they can eat?"
"That's the second thing. No, they can't wait. Don't tell Jeanette, but there's been a message from the President; he wants me in Washington as soon as I can get there."
"What's that all about?"
"I really don't know. But he's the President, Ernie. I do what he tells me to do."
"Don't tell Jeanette?"
"She's a reporter."
"She's Pick's ... I was about to say girlfriend, but she's much more than that."
"I know," he said. "But I still don't want you to tell her."
"About you going to Washington, or about anything?"
"This will sound cruel, perhaps, but the less Jeanette knows about anything, the better. Let me, or Ken, decide what she can know."
"You're going to Washington, and Ken's in Korea," Ernie replied.
"Come to Washington with me," Pickering said.
"No."
"You could see your parents for at least a couple of days."
"No."
"And then come back here, if you'd like."
"No, Uncle Flem. Thank you, but no."
"You want to tell me why?"
"Ken's here. This is our home."
"A couple of days with your parents would be good for all concerned," Pickering argued.
"They would spend all their time arguing that I should stay with them, and then be really hurt when I wouldn't. It's better the way it is."
"You don't want your mother here when the time comes?"
"Not unless Ken's here, too. Then, sure."
"If she decides to come, you can't stop her, Ernie."
"She knows how I feel. Can we get off this subject?"
"Got your Minox, George?" Pickering asked. Yes, sir.
"Then take a couple of pictures of me and the hardheaded pregnant lady in the kimono."
"Okay," Ernie said, and smiled.
"And then we have to get out of here, sweetheart," Pickering said. "If you need anything, tell Paul. And if he can't get what you need, he knows how to contact General Howe, and Howe will get it for you."
"Thanks, Paul."
"Anything you need, Ernie," Paul Keller said. "Anything."
Pickering stood up and put his arm around Ernie's shoulders, and George Hart took three shots of them with the tiny Minox.
[FIVE]
Hangar 13 Kimpo Airfield
Seoul, South Korea
O815 3O September 19SO
Captain Howard C. Dunwood, USMCR, was having breakfast—ham chunks with raisin sauce, out of a can—with Major Alex Donald, U.S. Army, when the small door in the left hangar door opened and a Marine corporal, a very large fair-skinned man in his early twenties, his field cap perched precariously on his head, came through, followed by four other men.
"Heads up!" Major Donald whispered. "That must be the people I was told to expect."
Captain Dunwood said nothing.
After a moment, he recognized two of the men. He had seen them before, the last time when Baker Company had landed on Tokchok-Kundo Island in the Flying Fish Channel leading to Pusan. At that time, both had been wearing black cotton pajamas, with bands of the same material wrapped around their foreheads. The tall and lanky one was now dressed in crisply starched utilities, with the chevrons of a technical sergeant painted on the sleeves. The other character who had been wearing black pajamas on the island was now in crisp utilities, with the gold leaves of a major pinned to his collar points.