W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps 03 - Counterattack

A remarkably short time after starting as a temporary civilian employee brought in to help with foreign-language translation (really a sort of multilingual clerk), she had risen to the upper echelons of Navy intelligence. The proof was that she was privy to, and would be working with, the Big Secret: that the Navy had cracked the Imperial Japanese Navy code. And she would continue to work-though remotely-with Captain Fleming Pickering, who answered to nobody but the Secretary of the Navy.

It now seemed very unlikely that there would be any difficulty about the crates shipped home from China. And since she was going to Hawaii, it would no longer be necessary for her to make the weekly trips to the nursing home in Baltimore to see her father. Or to endure the hour-long sermon he always delivered.

There were just a few minuses to her promotion and transfer; and they were all spelled Captain Fleming Pickering, USNR.

She had been attracted to him from the very first moment she had met him in his suite in the Foster Lafayette Hotel. The expensively furnished suite itself represented a style of living that she had previously believed existed only in the movies. And as she had learned more about him, her fascination with him grew: He owned steamships, A fleet of them! His wife’s father owned a chain of hotels, including the Foster Lafayette! He personally knew a large number of very important people, people like Senator Fowler and Henry Ford, and even the President of the United States!

There was a physical attraction, too. From that first day, she had wondered what it would be like to be in bed with him. He was tall, good looking, and in splendid physical shape. She loved the deep timbre of his voice. But just about as immediately, she also recognized that any notions of getting him into her bed were dangerous.

Since a rich and handsome man like Fleming Pickering must have had any number of women to choose from, she was convinced that he must have grown very selective. It was entirely possible that he would not be interested in her at all, and that any overtures from her would see her returned to her old job. It didn’t especially surprise her to learn that he was faithful to his wife, and that they apparently had had a long and successful marriage . . . but it disappointed her, all the same.

After a while, as he grew to rely on her faithful services, she realized that he was taking her under his wing. She was protected by his authority and influence. If questions about the crates from China now came up, she was sure that she could convince him of her innocence, and that he would defend her- with all of his influence-against any accusations.

Of course, with her in Hawaii and Fleming Pickering in Australia-or God knew where else-that would no longer be the case. She would be an ex-employee, no longer his faithful right hand. She could probably call on him for help, but the situation would be changed. She might be an "assimilated lieutenant commander" in Hawaii, but she would no longer be Captain Fleming Pickering’s assistant.

On the train to California, she wondered whether she had made a mistake in playing out her perfectly platonic half of their entirely platonic relationship. More than once she had seen him looking at her as a man looks at a desirable woman.

But it would now be in her interest for Fleming Pickering to remember her as a woman he had bedded, and who had asked for nothing from him. There had been several occasions in the Foster Lafayette suite when he might well have responded to an overture. More than once he had been at his Old Grouse beyond the point where his judgment was affected.

But she had let those opportunities pass, and there was nothing that would bring them back. That was really a pity, she thought ruefully. It almost certainly would have been a very pleasant experience to have Fleming Pickering in her bed. Or, for that matter, on the floor. Anywhere.

And then he had sent word that he would come to the hotel and see her aboard the ship.

(Four)

When Ellen Feller answered Pickering’s knock at the door, she was wearing a dressing gown. It was flowing-and translucent. Not missionary-lady style, he thought, recalling the black lace underwear she had worn the day he met her. And in that grossly embarrassing erotic dream.

"Hi!" she said. "Come in. I’m almost ready. I just stopped to make myself a drink. Nerves."

"I didn’t know you drank," Pickering said.

"There’s a lot about me you don’t know," Ellen said. She walked across the room to the bar. The light behind her revealed the outline of her body beneath the thin dressing gown. And certain anatomical details.

"Old Grouse," she said, reaching for a bottle. "I know how you like it."

She made a drink, and then held it out to him. Her upper leg parted the dressing gown as he, uncomfortably, walked to her to take the drink.

"I don’t mind if you look," Ellen said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, I don’t mind if you look," she repeated. "I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me. The most fascinating man I’ve ever met, and he appears totally immune."

"Ellen . . ."

"Have a good look," she said. She tugged at the dressing-gown cord and it fell open. "Do I pass inspection?"

"My wife is on her way up here," Pickering said.

Oh, Goddamn it! What have I done now?

"I’m sorry," she said evenly, after a moment.

"You’d better get your clothes on."

"Pity," she said, then put his glass of Scotch down and walked into one of the bedrooms. She stopped at the door and looked at him. The dressing gown was still open.

"Fleming," she said, using his first name for the first time ever, "the last thing in the world I want is to cause you trouble with your wife."

He nodded.

"Thank you."

She walked into the bedroom, took the dressing gown off, and tossed it toward the bed. Then she walked, naked, to the door and closed it.

Jesus Christ! She must be drunk. I wonder if we can get through the next couple of hours without a major disaster.

Fantastic teats!

(Five)

United States Navy Yard

San Diego, California

8 March 1942

"Sir, I can pass you in, but not with these ladies," the Marine sergeant at the gate said, handing the identification card back to Captain Fleming Pickering, USNR.

"Sergeant, this lady is on orders," Pickering said. "Ellen, show him your damned orders."

Mrs. Ellen Feller took from her purse a thin stack of mimeographed orders and her identification card and handed them over the seatback to Pickering, who then passed them to the sergeant. The sergeant read the orders, looked at the ID card, compared the photograph on it with her face, and then handed it all back.

"Sir, this lady can pass. But the other one-"

" ‘The other one’ is my wife!" Pickering flared.

"Sir, she doesn’t have any ID."

"Flem," Patricia Foster Pickering said, aware that her husband was about to lose his. temper, "I’ll just wait here. You put Ellen on the ship and come back and pick me up."

"Patricia, please butt out of this," Pickering said sharply.

They had managed to get through lunch without a disaster. When Ellen came out of the bedroom to meet Patricia, she was modestly dressed, her hair was done up in a simple bun, and she wore no makeup.

She thanked Patricia for the basket of fruit, apologized for not having been ready, and never again called him Fleming. She was a perfect lady at lunch. But he didn’t want to set the stage for something happening aboard the ship by being alone with her there.

"Sergeant, please call the Officer of the Guard," Captain Pickering ordered.

"Aye, aye, Sir."

It took the Officer of the Guard three minutes to reach the gate in a Navy-gray Ford pickup. He found a Navy captain at the wheel of a glistening 1939 Cadillac Sixty-Two Special sedan, which did not have San Diego Navy Base identification. A civilian woman was next to him, a nice-looking lady wearing a diamond engagement ring that looked like it weighed a pound. Another woman was sitting in the back of the Cadillac. She was a little younger than the other one, but somewhat plain-not at all bad-looking, though. She had a Navy Department ID card and a set of orders giving her AAA travel priority to CINCPAC Headquarters in Hawaii.