W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps IV - Battleground

She turned the shower head so that it produced a strong, narrow stream of water, rather than a spray; and then she directed the stream where she thought it should go.

Sometimes, under the right circumstances, the fantasy is better than the actuality.

She sat down in the tub, slid against the sloping back side, and spread her legs. The stream of water struck the tub eight inches from the right spot.

"Damn!"

She stood up and moved toward the shower head again.

The screen door slammed, and a moment later, the front door. Sergeant John Marston Moore did that every time he came home. Thus every time he came home, the whole damned house shook.

She inhaled deeply. After that, she changed the shower flow back into a spray, and shifted the head again, so that it flowed onto her hair, instead of halfway down the tub. Then she picked up the soap and went ahead with her shower.

Fate, she thought. Kismet. I really didn't want to do it that way, anyway.

Chapter Seventeen

(One)

WATER LILY COTTAGE

MANCHESTER AVENUE

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA

1905 HOURS 13 AUGUST 1942

Three or four hairs popped up from the aureola of Sergeant John Marston Moore's nipples. Ellen Feller thought they were adorable. She toyed with them with her fingernail, watching them spring back into little coils when she turned them loose.

"Baby," she said, "if we're going to do this again, you're going to have to use something."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't want to find myself in the family way," Ellen said.

I should have thought of that before. God, was it the rum? Or how excited his shyness made me? For a while there, I was beginning to think that he was either a fairy or a virgin.

"Oh," he said. "I see what you mean. Are we going to do it again?"

"You don't sound very enthusiastic. You did a minute or two ago."

"I mean, is it smart? What if we got caught?"

"Who's going to catch us? Or didn't you like it?"

"It was great," Moore said.

And fuck you, Mrs. Howard P. Hawthorne. You are not the only fish in the sea. And your teats aren't as nice, either.

"It was great for me, too," she said. "I can't believe it happened."

"Me, either."

"You must think me terrible, giving in to you the way..."

"No. Not at all."

"I didn't have any idea you... were thinking of me in that way."

"It was the tennis dress," he said. "When you showed me your tennis dress."

"What about my tennis dress?"

"I thought your legs were great," he said.

I'll be damned. He's blushing again. How sweet!

"You really think so?" she asked, and threw the sheet off them.

"They're beautiful," he pronounced.

"Yours aren't so bad, either," she said, and ran her hand over his hip and then down his leg.

"There's a pro station at the barracks," he said. "But, Christ, I hate to go out there."

"What?"

"There's a pro station. When they give out the you-know-whats, at the barracks. But I hate to go out there."

"Maybe you could buy some at a drug store. What do they call them here, 'chemists'?"

"Yeah."

"Is there any chance that Hon is going to show up here?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He's going to play bridge with General MacArthur."

Thank God for small blessings!

"But he's going to want to know what we thought of the intercepts in the morning," Moore added.

"We'll have time," she said. "We have plenty of time. For everything. But what are we going to do about that?"

"About what?"

"You know very well what I mean," she said.

She moved her hand to his stirring erection and felt it

stiffen to her touch.

"I don't know," he said, and blushing again, which pleased her very much, he added: "I could get dressed and go look for a chemist's."

"We don't know if chemists even sell them," she said.

"That's right."

"There is one thing I could do," she said. "But I'm afraid you'd think I was terrible." "I would never think that."

"Oh, you're just saying that. You probably already think I'm really terrible." "No."

"Close your eyes, then," she ordered. He closed his eyes.

A moment later, she said, "Open them." He opened them. "Did you like that?" "Oh, yes."

"You want to watch me do it?" "Yes."

After a moment she stopped. "Some women like to do that," she said. "I love it." "I love it when you do it." "And some men like to do it to women." "Do they?"

"Do you want to do it to me?" "Do you want me to?" "Oh, yes, Baby." "Then, OK." "Close your eyes again." He felt her shifting around on the bed. What the hell, guys are always talking about it. It probably won't kill me.

(Two)

THE OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY

WASHINGTON, D.C.

1605 HOURS 15 AUGUST 1942

Captain David Haughton, USN, signed the receipt for the TOP SECRET Eyes Only SecNav radio, smiled at the messenger, said "Thank you," and waited until the messenger had left before lifting the cover sheet and reading the document.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, frowning and shaking his head.

Then he stood up, went to the door to the Secretary's office, opened it, and stood there until the Secretary of the Navy sensed his presence and raised his eyes to him.

"Something important, David?"

"Guadalcanal has been heard from, Mr. Secretary."

"Do you mean Pickering's received the 'come home, all is more or less forgiven' radio? Or something else?"

Haughton handed him the Eyes Only.

Knox's face tightened as he read it. He looked up at Haughton.

"What is this, David, do you think? A blatant defiance of the radio? Who the hell does he think he is? 'The undersigned has temporarily assumed duties of First Marine Division G-2.' By what authority?"

"Sir, I don't know. But I would be inclined to give Captain Pickering the benefit of the doubt. The second paragraph caught my eye."

Knox read the Eyes Only again.

"Good Christ, do think he's trying to tell us that Goettge or one of the other officers had a MAGIC clearance?"

"Mr. Secretary, he didn't say 'Killed in Action,' he said 'lost in combat.' That suggests the possibility that they may have been captured. If you go with that line of reasoning, paragraph two makes some sense."

"How quickly can you find out if any of these people had access to MAGIC?"

"They're not on the list I'm familiar with. Maybe Naval Intelligence has added some others-cryptographer-that sort of thing. And 1 think, Sir, that we may have to consider the possibility that Captain Pickering brought Colonel Goettge, officially or otherwise, in on it."

It was a moment before Knox replied.

"That's one of your 'worst possible scenarios,' David, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, I thank you for it. I appreciate why you had to bring that up. I am unable to believe that he would do that. He knows what's at stake."

"Yes, Sir."

"Find out from Naval Intelligence... you had better check with the Army, too, while you're at it. And in person. Stay off the phone. See if any of these names ring a bell."

"Yes, Sir."

"Let me know the minute you find out, one way or the other."

"Yes, Sir."

"I just thought of another worst possible case scenario, David," Knox said. "Pickering gets himself captured."

"I think we have to consider that possibility, Sir."

"Send an urgent radio to Admiral Nimitz. Tell him to get Pickering off Guadalcanal now. I don't care if he has to send a PT boat for him. I want him off of Guadalcanal as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir."

"Sir," Captain David Haughton, USN, reported to the Secretary of the Navy not quite two hours later, "I think I've come up with something."

"Let's have it. I'm due at the White House in fifteen minutes."

"Neither Colonel Goettge nor Captain Ringer was cleared for MAGIC. And it is my opinion, and that of the Chief of Naval Intelligence, Sir, that it is unlikely that either of them ever heard more than the name."