Using leafy branches from the jungle as a broom, Captain Macklin was doing what he could to obliterate the evidence of heavy traffic in the sand.
"You didn't have to come ashore," McCoy said, offering Lewis his hand. "I appreciate it. Take care of yourself, Lewis."
"Let me take him back with me, Ken," Lewis said, nodding at Macklin.
"No," McCoy said firmly.
"He's going to cause trouble," Lewis argued.
"Two things. General Pickering wants him here," McCoy said. "And, I realized, so do I."
"Why, for God's sake?"
"I guess the idea of the sonofabitch standing around some O Club bar mak-ing it big time with some nurse with stories of being in the Philippines with the guerrillas just pisses me off," McCoy said wryly, and then grew serious. "He's a Marine officer. He was sent here, goddamn it, and he should behave like a Marine officer. If he can't hack it, then he shouldn't be a Marine officer."
"If he threatens your mission, would you really kill him?"
"I hope I don't have to," McCoy said. "But I'm not sending the sonofa-bitch back."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Lewis said.
McCoy shrugged.
"If you can figure some way to do it without getting your ass in a crack, get word, through Ed Sessions, to my girl that I'm all right," McCoy said.
"Sorry, I can't do that," Lewis said. He walked out of the vegetation to the edge of the water, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted, "Boats, take that man aboard and get out to the Sunfish. I'm staying ashore."
"Hey, wait a minute!" McCoy called, running out to Lewis.
"You heard me, Boats, shove off!" Lewis shouted.
The two sailors in the rubber boat quickly hauled the one in the water into the boat and startled paddling out to the Sunfish.
"Are you out of your mind?" McCoy asked.
"Probably," Lewis said with a smile. "Two things. I don't want you shooting Macklin, and I really don't want to go back aboard that goddamned submarine."
"If I decide I have to take care of him, you're not going to get in my way," McCoy said.
"Understood," Lewis said.
They moved back into the vegetation and watched as the boat reached the Sunfish, and as it and the crew were quickly hauled aboard.
"You could still get on the radio and tell them to come get you."
"Too late," Lewis said, and pointed.
The colors were suddenly gone from the mast, and her decks were clear. She began to move very slowly, and very slowly to slip beneath the surface.
"I hope you remembered to bring something to eat," Lewis said.
"Just for the record, I think you've lost your mind," McCoy said. "We've got some Army rations. 'C rations' they call them."
[SIX]
Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines
In the Field
Davao Oriental Province Mindanao,
Commonwealth of the Philippines
0705 Hours 25 December 1942
The Commanding General had left instructions that he was not to be awak-ened, unless of course there was an indication the Japanese were nearby. So the first view Staff Sergeant Stephen Koffler, USMCR, had of Brigadier General Wendell W. Fertig was of a middle-aged man, with a red goatee, rising from his bed. The bed was a piece of canvas laid on the ground beneath an obviously freshly and hastily constructed lean-to.
This apparition was wearing a frayed and mussed khaki shirt, to the collar points of which were pinned silver stars. Matching trousers and a pair of bat-tered boots were hanging from the lean-to roof. The General held a Model 1911.45 ACP pistol, hammer cocked, and looked somewhat startled.
The first view General Fertig had of Staff Sergeant Koffler was of a boy- an American boy, who looked about seventeen-in dyed-black khakis. His arms and the backs of his hands were black, and his white face was framed in more black, under his hairline, and down his neck. In his hand he was carrying a very small rifle, of a type Fertig had never seen before, and something like a cut-off sword was hanging from his neck on a cord.
The boy came to attention and saluted.
"Staff Sergeant Koffler, U.S. Marine Corps, reporting, Sir."
General Fertig returned the salute.
"Reporting from where, Sergeant?" Fertig asked as he reached up and took his trousers from the lean-to wall.
The boy took some time to consider the question. It seemed to confuse him for a moment.
"From Australia, Sir. General Pickering sent us."
Thank God!
"And who is General Pickering?"
That question also seemed to momentarily confuse him.
"He's a Marine general, Sir. We work for him."
"You landed by submarine?" Fertig asked as he pushed his legs into his still-soggy trousers.
"Yes, Sir. We came off the Sunfish."
"And how many of you are there?"
"Three of us, Sir. Plus an officer from the OSS."
What the hell is the OSS?
'And the name of your commanding officer?"
"McCoy, Sir. Lieutenant McCoy."
They sent a lieutenant? Well, that certainly establishes our position, doesn't it?
"And where is Lieutenant McCoy?"
"I left him on the beach with the supplies, Sir. Lieutenant Everly rode me on his motorcycle to where we met Captain Hedges. Captain Hedges sent this guy-he pointed to a Filipino standing to one side-to bring me on the motor-cycle to you, and then he took the patrol back to the beach."
"What sort of supplies, Sergeant?"
"Some weapons, Sir, some medicine, other stuff. And the gold, too, of course."
"Gold?" Fertig asked as he pulled on his boots.
"Yes, Sir," Koffler said, and pulled his dyed-black khaki shirt out of his trousers.
Around his waist were two dully gleaming black belts. One formed a tube about two inches wide. The second was narrower, with a package, about five inches square, in the center. Koffler untied the cords that closed the tubular belt and handed it to Fertig. It was a good deal heavier than it looked.
God, is there really gold in here?
Fertig felt what could be coins under the strange, smooth, slippery mate-rial. He tried to find an opening.
"If you want to open that, Sir," Koffler said helpfully, "you're going to have to cut it. That plastic can't be torn."
Fertig looked at him.
Koffler ducked out of the cord around his neck and handed Fertig the sword.
"What is 'plastic,' Sergeant?" he asked, taking the sword and testing the blade with his thumb. It was as sharp as a razor.
"I don't really know what it is, Sir," Koffler said. "The Army started packing their radios in it, and we used it to pack the stuff we brought you."
Fertig slit the plastic. A gleaming United States twenty-dollar gold piece fell out.
"We're each wearing a money belt, General," Koffler said. "And there are a couple of bundles back on the beach. There's two hundred and fifty thou-sand dollars in all."
If they're sending me that kind of money, somebody is taking us seriously.
"And you were sent here to deliver the gold?"
"No, Sir. I was sent here to find you, and when I did, to call Australia."