"Yes, Sir. They're assigned to us."
Donovan waited until he was sure that he had gotten all he was going to get from Rickabee without prompting, then made a come on gesture with his right hand.
"Lieutenant McCoy and Gunny Zimmerman made the Makin Island raid with Captain Roosevelt, Sir. Sergeant Koffler spent some time on Buka with the Australian Coastwatchers, Sir. They're experienced in this type of opera-tion."
"I felt sure General Pickering would select the best available men," Donovan said.
"I think he did, Sir," Rickabee replied.
"You were not familiar with 'Operation Windmill,' Fritz?"
"No, Sir."
"Our fault, obviously. Sorry. We should have made sure you, and General Pickering, were brought in on that. It is, of course, simply the name we as-signed to the Fertig operation."
"Yes, Sir."
"I would be grateful, when Captain Sessions arrives, if he could brief Mr. Morrissette and myself."
"I'll see to it that he does, Sir."
"Have you got anything else for me, Fritz?"
"No, Sir. That's about it."
"Well, thank you for bringing this so promptly to my attention."
"My pleasure, Sir."
"Well, then, Fritz, I won't keep you. Thank you very much."
"Yes, Sir."
"Mo, stick around a minute, will you?" Donovan said.
"Thank you, Colonel Rickabee," Morrissette said, and offered his hand.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Rickabee said.
Donovan waited until Rickabee had closed the door after him and then turned to Morrissette.
"What would you say are the chances that the President has already seen, or will soon see, that goddamn special channel?"
"One hundred percent, Bill. If Frank Knox doesn't show it-hasn't al-ready shown it-to him, I'm sure he'll get it back-channel. Nimitz to Leahy to FDR."
"I don't like to be sandbagged like that. I'll burn Pickering's ass for this."
"For what?
"What do you mean, for what? Did you read that?"
"General Pickering, in compliance with his orders, is making every rea-sonable effort to include our guy on the mission. He's on the submarine. If he doesn't go ashore, it will be because the officer in charge decides that his pres-ence would pose a threat to the mission."
"Our guy is a captain. This McCoy is only a lieutenant. Our guy should be the officer-in-command."
"This one made the Makin Island raid with Roosevelt's son," Morrissette said. "And if you think Pickering hasn't made sure that FDR knows that, you're underestimating him again."
"Meaning?"
"You'll have a hard time convincing FDR that Pickering's sandbagging you by putting this lieutenant in charge. This lieutenant is a Marine Raider, and Marine Raiders generally-and especially one who was on the Makin raid with young Roosevelt-are the apples of FDR's eye."
"You don't really expect me to take this lying down?"
"Are you. asking for advice?"
"Yeah. Advise me."
"Make your peace with Pickering."
Donovan looked at him for a long moment.
"Thank you, Mo," he said. "Is there anything else?"
Morrissette shook his head, no.
[ONE]
Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines
Davao Oriental Province
Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines
1845 Hours 23 December 1942
It was raining, and Captain James B. Weston, USFIP, stumbled while climb-ing-and nearly slipped off-the rain-slick ladderlike stairs leading to the quarters of Brigadier General Wendell W. Fertig. He managed not to drop his Thompson submachine gun, but his campaign hat fell into the darkness, and he had to climb back down the stairs and look for it on his hands and knees under the house.
Finally, he gained the porch and walked down it to the door. Hanging over the door as a blackout device was a piece of canvas-reclaimed by United States Forces in the Philippines after six months of service to the Japanese on a captured U.S. Army ton-and-a-half truck.
Someone remembered reading that the light of a candle could be seen from an aircraft on a dark night for seven miles. It sounded a bit incredible, but Headquarters USFIP was in no position to put their incredulity to the test, and General Fertig had ordered blackout curtains over all doors and windows after nightfall, whenever lanterns or candles were alight inside.
Weston pushed aside the blackout curtain and stepped inside. The only light came from one kerosene lamp and three homemade lamps consisting of burning wicks in the necks of Coca-Cola bottles filled with coconut oil; but Weston's eyes, accustomed to the absolute blackness of the night, took a mo-ment to adjust.
After they adjusted, he saw General Fertig behind his desk, and two of the three members of the USFIP Signal Section-Second Lieutenant Robert Ball (signal officer) and Sergeant Ignacio LaMadrid (chief radio operator)-sitting on rattan chairs. Ball and LaMadrid held Coca-Cola bottles containing the getting-better-all-the-time USFIP brewed beer, and four bottles of beer, three of them empty, were on Fertig's desk.
The cocktail hour, Weston thought, to which I was not invited.
"You sent for me, Sir?" he asked.
'"As our intelligence officer, and, of course, as a Marine, Captain Wes-ton," Fertig said. "I'm sure you are a veritable cornucopia of arcane informa-tion vis-a-vis Naval lore."
"Sir?"
I don't think anybody but The General was invited to his cocktail hour.
"Lieutenant Ball, Sergeant LaMadrid, and myself have all been wonder-ing what the Navy expects to find in heaven," Fertig said.
Is he plastered?
"I don't think I understand, Sir."
"I'm disappointed," Fertig said. "I was hoping the answer to that intrigu-ing conundrum would immediately occur to you."
"Sorry, Sir, I just don't understand."
"What occurred to me was that what a sailor would hope to find would be a bevy of naked beauties and real, cold beer, but that doesn't seem to fit. Show that to Captain Weston, would you, please, Lieutenant Ball?"
Ball handed Weston a sheet of paper, its carbon-paper characters hard to read in the dim light.
1334567890123456789012345
LUDMILLAZHIVKOVZANESVILLE
U S E W H
02 20 19 04 10
A T N A V
17 09 18 14 21
E B W I L
19 25 04 05 23
L F I N D
24 09 11 18 03
I N H E A
22 18 10 19 08
V E N A S
12 19 18 08 20
S I M S U
20 05 04 20 02
B C 0 D E
09 13 14 03 25
"That came in about an hour ago," Lieutenant Ball said.
"A strong signal, Sir," Sergeant LaMadrid amplified, "and it was re-peated, two, three times, from both Australia and Pearl Harbor."
"Use what Nave-Navy-" Weston read haltingly, "will find in heaven as sim sub code. 'Use what Navy will find in heaven'? What the hell does that mean?"