W.E.B. Griffin - Retreat, Hell!

In Pusan, McCoy had run across a just-rushed-from-Germany-to-Korea Army Security Agency cryptographer, Master Sergeant Paul T. Keller, who didn't even know any of the Dai Ichi Building cryptographers. A message from Gen­eral Howe to the Army Chief of Staff in Washington had seen Keller the next day transferred to the CIA, with a further assignment to the staff of the Assis­tant Director of the CIA for Asia.

Keller was told—more than likely unnecessarily—that if there were any leaks of EYES ONLY THE PRESIDENT messages they would know who had done the leaking.

Pickering also suspected that Willoughby was entirely capable of both tap­ping the telephones in his hotel suite and bugging the suite itself. Master Sergeant Keller had "swept" the hotel suite and found several microphones, which might, or might not, have been left over from the days of the Kempai-Tai, the Japanese Imperial Secret Police.

There was no way of finding out for sure without tearing walls down to trace the wires, so they had left them in place. When Pickering had something to say he didn't want Willoughby to hear, he held the conversation in the bathroom, with the shower running, the toilet flushing, and a roll of toilet tissue around the microphone in the left of the two lights on either side of the mirror.

Most of the time, however, when there was a meeting they didn't want overheard, they held the meeting in McCoy's house in Denenchofu. Keller swept the house on a regular basis.

The Bataan stopped, and the engines died.

General MacArthur looked at his watch, then stood up and stretched.

"Jean and I would be pleased if you could come for dinner, Fleming. No one else will be there. Would eight be convenient for you?"

"Thank you," Pickering said. "I'd be delighted."

There was a discreet knock at the compartment door, and Huff's voice call­ing, "We're ready for you anytime, General."

MacArthur nodded at Pickering, pushed the door open, and went through it.

Pickering looked out the window again. Master Sergeant Keller was lean­ing on the Buick's fender.

That means he either has a message for me, or that he got a little bored in the hotel and decided to drive the Buick out here himself.

Pickering waited until all the brass had deplaned and gotten into their cars, then stood up and went into the aisle. Captain George F. Hart and Miss Jeanette Priestly were waiting for him.

"Keller's driving the car," Hart said.

"I saw," Pickering said.

"George said you were going to see Ernie," Jeanette said. "Can I bum a ride?"

"Your wish is my command, Fair Lady," Pickering said.

"Despite what people say about you, I think you'll be a fine father-in-law," she said.

If we get him back, Pickering thought, but said, "Was there ever any doubt about that in your mind?"

Hart chuckled.

They went down the staircase and walked to the Buick. Hart got in the front beside Keller. Keller started the engine, then turned and handed Pickering a sheet of paper, folded in thirds.

"Came in an hour ago, General," Keller said.

Pickering shifted in the seat so that Jeanette could not see what it was when he unfolded it.

TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL

SPECIAL CHANNEL

ONE COPY ONLY

EYES ONLY BRIG GEN FLEMING PICKERING USMCR

BLAIR HOUSE 0235 28 SEPTEMBER 1950

IN THE ABSENCE OF A REALLY COMPELLING REASON PRECLUDING YOUR TRAVEL, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE

YOU HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. BEST PERSONAL REGARDS HARRY S TRUMAN

TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL

Pickering refolded the message and handed it to Hart.

"Read that, don't comment," he ordered, "and then do the magic trick for Jeanette."

"Magic trick?" Jeanette asked. "What was that? Am I allowed to ask?"

"No, you're not. Show her, George."

Hart turned to the backseat. He waved the sheet of paper in his hand.

"Now you see it, Jeanette . . ." he said.

He produced a Zippo lighter, flicked it open and touched the flame to the sheet of paper. There was a sudden white flash and a small cloud of smoke.

The sheet of paper disappeared.

". . . and now you don't," Hart finished unnecessarily.

"Jesus Christ, what was that?" Jeanette asked.

"That would be telling, Jeanette," Pickering said. "When we get to McCoy's house, set that up, please, George, including the appropriate reply."

"Yes, sir. When do we go?"

"I thought it said, 'as soon as possible,' " Pickering said. Yes, sir.

[FOUR]

Mo. 7 Saku-Tun Denenchofu,

Tokyo, Japan

1915 29 September 195O

A middle-aged Japanese woman in a black kimono came through the steel gate in the wall around McCoy's house, bowed to the black Buick, then went back inside the wall. A moment later, the double gates farther down the wall opened, and Keller drove the car inside.

Mrs. Ernestine Sage McCoy, who was standing outside the door of the sprawling, one-floor Japanese house, was also wearing a black kimono.

Pickering decided she was wearing it as a maternity dress rather than a cul­tural statement of some kind. He also thought that it was true that being in the family way did indeed give women sort of a glow. Ernie looked radiant.

She came down the shallow flight of stairs as Fleming, Jeanette, Hart, and Keller got out of the Buick.

As Ernie hugged Fleming, he could feel the swelling of her belly against him.

"How are you, sweetheart?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "The question seems to be, How are the men in our extended little family?"

"Ken's fine," Jeanette answered for him. "He looked like a recruiting poster when I saw him. Pick is still among the missing."

"Ken told me they had missed him by no more than a couple of hours yes­terday," Pickering said. "They'll find him, I'm sure."

"Well, come on in the house, all of you, and have a drink. I didn't know how many of you were coming, or when, so dinner will have to be started from scratch."

"Then I'll have time to take a shower?" Jeanette asked. "Shower, hell, a long hot bath?"

"Come on with me," Ernie said. "Uncle Flem, you know where the bar is."

She put her arm around Jeanette and started to lead her into the interior of the house.

"Wow," Ernie said, first sniffing and then wrinkling her nose. "You really do need a bath, don't you?"

"You can go to hell," Jeanette said.

The middle-aged Japanese woman and a younger Japanese woman were al­ready in the living room when Pickering led the others in. There were four bot­tles on the bar: bourbon, scotch, vodka, and beer.

The men indicated their choices—two scotches and a bourbon—by point­ing. The young woman made the drinks, and the older woman put them on a tray and served them. The younger woman left the room, returning in a mo­ment with a tray of bacon-wrapped smoked oysters.

Ernie came in as the oysters were being served.

"I would really like a very stiff one of those," she said. "But I am being the perfect pregnant woman."

"Good for you, sweetheart," Pickering said. "How about an oyster and a glass of soda?"

"Take what you can, when you can get it," Ernie said, and said something in Japanese to the younger woman, who started to fill a glass with soda water.

She turned to Pickering.

"Was Ken telling Jeanette the truth about Pick? Or whistling in the wind to make her feel good?"

"The truth, I'm sure," Pickering said.

"I really feel sorry for her," Ernie said.

"Ernie, two things. Thank you for dinner, but no thank you. MacArthur has invited me for dinner, and George and Paul have got things to do."

"Things that won't wait until they can eat?"

"That's the second thing. No, they can't wait. Don't tell Jeanette, but there's been a message from the President; he wants me in Washington as soon as I can get there."