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

MacArthur didn't reply. He smiled faintly and sat back down.

Pickering left the compartment, closing the door after him. Halfway down the aisle, he spotted a plump little lieutenant colonel with a shiny cranium. When he got closer, he saw that he was wearing a nameplate with thebideaux etched on it. When he got to the seat, Pickering squatted.

"Colonel Thebideaux," he said, "General MacArthur would like to see you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Pickering went to the cheap seats and slipped in beside George Hart.

"What's up?"

"As soon as we're in radio contact with Tokyo," Pickering replied, "El Supremo will 'set the wheels in motion' to get me together with Pick. Either fly me out to the carrier or have Pick flown to Tokyo."

"That was nice of him," Hart said.

"I thought so."

"That's all he wanted?"

"That's all he wanted."

Hart pursed his lips and shrugged.

[THREE]

Haneda Airfield

Tokyo, Japan

21O5 15 October 19SO

As the Bataan taxied up to what he thought of as "El Supremo's Hangar," Brigadier General Fleming Pickering saw Master Sergeant Paul Keller leaning on the front fender of his Buick.

So much for the secrecy about El Supremo's movements, he thought. Willoughby and Company almost certainly didn't call Keller and give him our ETA. Paul knows how to find out "top secret" things like that.

As usual, he waited until the important members of MacArthur's staff de­planed before unfastening his seat belt and standing up.

When he came down the stairs, he was surprised to see MacArthur standing impatiently by the open door of his black Cadillac limousine. Willoughby was with him.

When MacArthur saw him, he motioned him over.

"Fleming, why don't you get a good night's sleep and then come by the of­fice first thing in the morning?" MacArthur said. "Willoughby is still collect­ing information about your boy, and by, say, eight, we should know just about everything."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

MacArthur nodded and ducked inside the Cadillac. Willoughby trotted around the rear of the limousine and got in beside him. The limousine, pre­ceded by the usual escort of chrome-helmeted MPs in highly polished jeeps, rolled off.

Pickering walked to his Buick. Keller straightened and saluted. Pickering re­turned it.

"You got the good news, General?" Keller asked.

"The President told me at Wake Island," Pickering said, and got in the front seat. Keller got behind the wheel and turned to him.

"Okay, while George is getting the luggage, this is what I know," Keller said.

Master sergeants are not supposed to refer to commissioned officers by their Christian names, but rather than being disrespectful, Pickering thought, it was an indication that Keller both liked Hart and considered everybody part of a special team.

"As soon as I got The Killer's message off," Keller began, "I went to Denenchofu and told Ernie."

"Good for you," Pickering said.

"Whereupon, she passed out," Keller said. "Scaring the bejesus out of me."

"My God! Is she all right?"

"She says she is. I tried to make her go to the hospital, or at least let me call a doctor, but she wouldn't let me."

"Before we go to the hotel, Paul, we'll swing by Denenchofu," Pickering ordered. Yes, sir.

"Did she hurt herself when she fell?"

"She says no, but I still think she ought to see a doctor."

"So do I."

"Anyway, right after that happened, we put in a call to Mrs. Pickering. We found her in Washington."

"So she knows?"

"Yes, sir. She said that she'd just gotten off the line with Colonel Banning and he'd already told her."

"He probably called her immediately after reading the decrypt of McCoy's message."

"Yes, sir, that's what I thought. I haven't been able to get in touch with the blond war correspondent. Ernie said I missed her at the house by a couple of hours, that she's on her way to Wonsan. I tried to call her at Wonsan. They said she wasn't there, so I called the Press Center at Eighth Army Rear in Pusan. They didn't know where she was, but she's on a list of press people trying to get to Wonsan. She'll turn up."

"And what do we hear about my son?"

"All I know is what's in Killer's message. I think that's probably what it is. He isn't hurt, he's okay psychologically, he's hungry, and he needs a shower and a shave."

"Thank you, Paul," Pickering said. "I suppose we'll have more news in the morning."

"I'm sure we will, sir."

[FOUR]

The Imperial Hotel

Tokyo, Japan

O21O 15 October 195O

Master Sergeant Paul Keller answered the telephone before it had a chance to ring twice.

"General Pickering's quarters, Sergeant Keller," he said. Then he listened briefly, covered the microphone with his hand, and turned to Pickering, who was sitting sprawled beside Captain George Hart on the couch. Both were holding drinks in their hands.

"I've got Mrs. Pickering on the horn, General."

"Thank you," Pickering said. "You two can now go to bed."

Hart stood up, drained his drink, and nodded at Keller as a signal for him to precede him out of the room. When Keller had gone through the door, Hart looked at Pickering, who was looking at him curiously, his raised eyebrow ask­ing,

"Jesus, right now, George?"

"General," Hart said, "would it be too much to ask Mrs. Pickering to call my wife and tell her we got Pick back? She's been holding her breath. Actually, she's been praying."

"Of course not," Pickering said, reaching out his hand for the telephone.

"Good night, sir," Hart said, and walked out of the room.

"Patricia?" Pickering said to the telephone.

"Flem?"

She sounds sleepy.

Jesus Christ, I have no idea what time it is in the States. Did I wake her up?

"How many other calls do you get from men at this time of day?"

"Quite a few, actually," she said. "And two minutes ago I got a telegram from the Secretary of the Navy ..." She paused, and he had a mental image of her picking it up and reading from it. "... who is 'pleased to inform you that your son Major Malcolm Pickering has been returned to U.S. control' and that 'fur­ther information will be furnished when available.' "

"I guess the system kicked in," he said.

"Have you seen him? Where are you?"

"In the Imperial. We got back here a couple of hours ago."

"Thank you for calling me immediately," she said sarcastically.

"I was with Ernie," he said, trying to explain and apologize. "Trying to get her to see a doctor."

"What's wrong with her?" she asked, concern replacing her anger.

"I don't think anything is. But when Keller told her about Pick, she fainted."

"What did the doctor say?"

"She wouldn't see a doctor," he said.

"Tell her that her mother and I are on the way," Patricia said.

"Here?"

"No, to Acapulco."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, sweetheart."

"My son has just been rescued after more than two months and my preg­nant goddaughter has just passed out, and it's not a good idea that her mother and I come over there? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"As soon as he's up to it, they're going to fly him to the States. You're going to be asked to which hospital he should be sent."

"How do you know that?"

"Harry Truman told me."

"Spare me your sarcasm, Flem."

"Just before he took off from Wake Island, the President told me that he has ordered that Pick be sent to the States as soon as his physical condition permits."

" As soon as his physical condition permits'? What do you know that I don't? When Ernie called, she said he was in great shape."