W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps VII - Behind the Lines

"How did you do that?" Stecker asked. Hon waved at Second Lieutenant Moore.

"We devised a simple code, Colonel, using symbols known to both us and the Coastwatchers on Buka, but not to the Japanese," Moore explained. "Spe-cifically, we used some-rather intimate-biographical data."

"And that worked, Koffler, right?" Pluto asked.

"It worked. We had a hell of a hard time figuring some of it out, but it worked."

"What does that mean, 'intimate biographical data'?" Stecker asked.

"Take a look at these, Colonel," Moore said, as he dug in his briefcase and came up with a thin sheaf of three-by-five-inch cards.

He walked around the table to Stecker and laid the cards before Stecker. Koffler got up and went to Stecker; and after a moment, so did McCoy and Sessions. A moment later they were all looking over Stecker's shoulder.

"The first card is the first paragraph of the message we sent to Koffler," Moore explained. "We used the old code, because we didn't want to admit to the Japanese we knew they had broken it."

USE AS SIMPLE SUBSTITUTION X JULIETS NAME X ROMBOS NAME X WHAT SHE THOUGHT HE HAD WHEN THEY MET X NAME OF TEST X RE-SULT OF TEST X

"What's this Romeo and Juliet business?" Stecker asked.

Pluto turned from helping himself to a cup of coffee.

"As we understood it, Colonel," he said, dry amusement in his thick Bos-ton/MIT accent, "the great romance between Lieutenant Howard-Romeo- and Juliet-Lieutenant (j.g.) Barbara Cotter, of the Navy Nurse Corps-began at the Navy Hospital, San Diego, when he went for a blood test. The Marine Corps wanted to make sure he did not have syphilis before they made him an officer. Since Miss Cotter, to whom he went to be tested, did not at first know the purpose of the Wasserman test, she treated him accordingly. As a social pariah, so to speak. But Love At First Sight triumphed in the end."

Stecker laughed.

"Really?"

"We believed it was an occasion he would remember," Pluto said.

"What you do for simple substitution," Moore went on, "is write the symbols, without spaces, in a line." He exposed the second three-by-five card. "Under a line of numbers from which the decimal digit after the first nine digits has been dropped."

12345678901234567890123456789012345678

BARBARAJOSEPHSYPHILISWASSERMANNEGATIVE

"OK," Stecker said.

"Card Three is the simple substitution encrypted message," Moore said,

and flipped it over.

18X19X09X37X11

15X23X08X09X11

01X02X03X04X05

06X07X23X31X05

"Card Four shows the decryption," Moore said, and flipped the last card over. "It was obviously of a personal nature."

18x19x09x37x11

I 1 o v e

15x23x08x09x11

y a j o e

01x02x03x04x05

b a r b a

06x07x23x31x05

r a a n a

10x23x28x32x10

S A M E S

35x38x37x38x01

T E V E B

02x12x13x30x38

A P H N E

"So I see," Stecker said, smiling.

"What we're going to try to do here today is set up the same sort of thing to communicate with General Fertig," Pluto said. "So that we can let him know to expect the people from the OSS, and possibly-General Pickering wants to talk about this to Commander Feldt and Colonel DePress before he decides-when and where they will land from the submarine."

"OK," Stecker said.

"There's an additional problem here," Pluto said. "We only have 'inti-mate' personal data on General Fertig himself. We have virtually nothing on the Army officers with him. Not only were their records apparently destroyed at the time of surrender, but any dependents are now either dead or interned. In any event, they are not available to help-as Mrs. Fertig is in Colorado. In the presumption that the Japanese will break our simple substitution rather quickly, we are reluctant to use more of General Fertig's personal data than we absolutely have to. If we do, the Japanese will be able to build a dossier on him we don't want them to have."

"What about the Marines?" Stecker asked.

"We have their names..." Pluto said.

"Right here," Moore chimed in, dipping into his briefcase again.

"... but they're not of much use," Pluto continued. "With the exception of the pilot, they're all former enlisted members of the Fourth Marines. All unmarried, according to the Marine Corps in Washington, and all of them have listed their official home of record as 'c/o Headquarters, USMC, Washington, D.C.' I found that a little strange."

"You do that, Pluto, if you don't have a home," McCoy said. "Or you have a home you'd just as soon forget."

Hon had the sudden insight that the official records of Lieutenant K. R. McCoy listed 'c/o Headquarters, USMC, Washington, D.C as his home of record.

"What about the pilot?" Stecker asked. "They generally keep more ex-tensive records on officers than they do on enlisted men."

"Unmarried," Moore interjected, consulting a sheet of paper. "His par-ents are dead. He listed his next of kin as an aunt. ONI contacted her. She hasn't seen him in ten years."

"You have the names of the enlisted men?" McCoy asked. "I used to be in the Fourth."

"So did I," Colonel Stecker said, and put out his hand.

Moore handed him two typewritten sheets of paper. He ran his finger down the names on one page, and then turned to the second.

"I know this character," he said. "Professional private. Hell of a Marine twenty-eight days a month. Then forget him for three days until he's blown his pay."

"Do you think he has a family?" Pluto asked.

"No." Stecker chuckled wryly. "And I really doubt if he'd remember me."

He handed the sheets of paper to McCoy.

Almost immediately, McCoy said, "I know this guy. Mean sonofabitch."

"You're sure, Ken?"

"There aren't very many Marines named Percy," McCoy said, and then his memory cleared. "Christ, if I'm right, this guy worked for Banning after I left China." He raised his eyes to Pluto. "How quick could we get an answer from Banning if we asked him?"

"Using the special channel, we can have an answer in twenty-four hours, maybe less," Moore said.

"How often are we in contact with Fertig?" McCoy asked.

"Once a day in the morning," Pluto said. "But I think they monitor all the time. You want to try to call them?"

"I want to ask Banning if this is the same Percy," McCoy said. "And try to talk to... Percy."

"I'm sure General Pickering will authorize use of the special channel,"

Colonel Stecker said.

"You mean now, Ken?" Pluto asked. "Before we go on with this?"

McCoy didn't answer. He walked back to his seat, picked up his pencil, and began to print characters on the pad of paper.

"What are you doing, Ken?" Sessions asked.

McCoy's left hand waved in a don't bother me now gesture.

Pluto looked at Stecker, who shrugged and held both hands palm up in a let's see what he's up to gesture.

Two minutes later, McCoy pushed the pad to Pluto. "What can you spell with that alphabet, Pluto?" McCoy asked. "The line on top."

Pluto looked at the sheet of paper.

ACDEHILMNOPRSUXY

ABCDEFGHIJKLM

NOPQRSTUVWXY

BFGJKVWY

QUENTIN ALEXANDER MCPHERSON

"There's no 'W,' no Y' " Pluto said

"It's got all the vowels," McCoy argued.

"OK," Pluto said. "Using obvious substitution, 'M' for 'W,"U' for 'V,' et cetera, it would be useful."

"Slide me that, please," Colonel Stecker ordered, his curiosity aroused. He read it, then looked at McCoy.

"Who is Quentin Alexander McPherson?" he asked.

Looking quite pleased with himself, McCoy smiled at Stecker.

"I thought of this when you said you'd been with the Fourth Marines, Gunny Stecker," he said.

He stood up, put his hands on his hips, thrust out his stomach, and in a harsh guttural mimicry announced, "The next time one of youse swine think youse can ruin my VD record by bringing some ay-moral, slant-eyed, diseased, Chinese bimbo into my barracks, I will cut yer talleywacker off with a dull bayonet and shove it down yer throat, or my name ain't Quentin Alexander McPherson."