Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 09 - Under Fire

It apparently had been.

"Major Dunston," Kim said, sensing an explanation was in order. "When there was talk of Operation Bluehearts-"

McCoy was again surprised. This time he blurted: "You knew about Operation Bluehearts?"

Kim nodded. "When that looked possible-not likely, but possible-Major Dunston had me look into the Flying Fish Channel. We saw the danger Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do posed."

"How do you mean, `saw'?"

"I went there on a fishing boat, Captain McCoy," Kim said, "to both Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do, and looked around."

"I didn't know that," McCoy said.

What the hell, McCoy, you decided this was "when all else fails, tell the truth" time.

"If Major Dunston filed an intel report..."

"He did," Major Kim said.

"I didn't see it. I got my-more importantly, my superi-ors got their-Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do intelligence from Lieutenant Taylor. I'm positive that General Picker-ing never saw Dunston's report."

"That's curious," Kim said.

"Dunston's report was filed before General Pickering took over as CIA Assistant Director for Asia," McCoy said, thinking aloud.

"Yes," Kim agreed.

"General Pickering has ordered me to take Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do as quickly and as quietly as possible," McCoy said.

Kim nodded.

"I decided," McCoy went on, "that Major Dunston didn't have the need to know about this operation, and I didn't tell him about it. And I kept you in the dark, Major Kim, because I knew you worked for Major Dunston, and might feel duty-bound to tell him what we're up to."

Kim nodded.

"When he hears that the Wind of Good Fortune has sailed with you and your Marines and me and my men..."

"He will probably make a very good guess about what we're doing," McCoy said. "I'm sorry about that. But the fewer people who know about this operation, the lesser the chance that the North Koreans will hear about it."

Kim nodded, but said nothing.

"I had to keep the Marines in the dark, too," McCoy said.

"Sir?"

"Major, I'm a captain. I don't think you should call me `Sir'-the other way around."

"You are in command," Kim argued. "Under that cir-cumstance, I suggest we address one another as `Captain' and `Major.'"

"In front of the men," McCoy said. "Between us, I would be pleased if you call me `Ken.'"

Kim looked into McCoy's eyes for a moment.

"My given names are Pak Su. My friends call me `Su.' I would be pleased if, between us, you called me `Su.'"

He put out his hand.

One of the first things I learned in Shanghai was that when an Oriental smiles and offers you his hand, you should quickly put the other hand on your wallet.

I don't think that applies here. I think this guy is an hon-orable man, an honorable officer, who has just come on board.

"Thank you, Su," McCoy said.

"You were saying something about the Corps of Marines?" Su said.

It took McCoy a moment to remember what he had said.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "The Marine aircraft aboard our air-craft carriers are going to provide us, once a day, with aerial photographs of the islands in the Flying Fish Channel. I didn't want to run the risk of a Marine pilot being captured and knowing that we were interested in any particular island. So I didn't tell them about Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do."

"When will you get the first photographs?"

"We already have the first photographs," McCoy said, and gestured toward the stern.

"I think it would be useful if I saw them," Su said.

"I know it would be useful if you could point out to me which of the islands are Yonghung-do and Taemuui-do,"

McCoy said, and waved his hand as a signal for the South Korean officer to follow him to the stern.

Jeanette Priestly was waiting for McCoy at the head of the ladder.

"Now?" she asked.

"In just a minute," McCoy said.

Visibly annoyed, she followed him as he went to his musette bag and took from it the envelope of photographs flown to Pusan on the Sicily's COD Avenger.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Lieutenant Taylor was going to turn the captain's cabin over to you," McCoy said. "I've just decided we need it more than you do."

"What am I going to need a cabin for?"

"Because it will be four-maybe five-days before we get back to Pusan," McCoy said.

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"Captain," McCoy said to Taylor, "I suggest we turn your cabin into the operations room, and give Miss Priestly one of the other cabins."

"Permission granted," Taylor said, smiling.

"If you think I'm going to spend the night on this thing..."

"You're a pretty good swimmer, are you?" McCoy asked, and waved his hand at the now far-off shore.

Zimmerman chuckled. Jeanette glared at him.

"Ernie, take Major Kim to the captain's cabin and have him explain these photographs to you," McCoy ordered.

"Aye, aye, sir," Zimmerman said.

McCoy turned to Jeanette.

"Okay," he said. "Now's now. Would you rather talk here, or in your cabin?"

"What you're going to do, McCoy, is tell this man to turn this thing around and let me off of it."

"No, what I'm going to do now is go down and have a look at your cabin. If you want to come there to talk, fine. If you don't, enjoy the view."

Zimmerman chuckled again, and Jeanette glared at him again.

McCoy reached into his musette bag again and came out with a bottle of Famous Grouse wrapped in a clean T-shirt.

"What's that for?" Jeanette asked.

"It's 1700," McCoy said. "The cocktail hour. Once a day on this voyage, we get one drink. I'm going to have mine now. You can have yours now, or you can stay up here and enjoy the view."

Carrying the bottle, he went down the interior ladder and walked into the smallest of the three cabins.

A minute later, Jeanette walked into it after him.

He stepped around her and closed the door. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Zimmerman-no, Sergeant Jennings-got some air mattresses from the Army," McCoy said. "This shouldn't be too uncomfortable."

She looked at him with mixed incredulity and anger.

He handed her the bottle of Famous Grouse.

"I don't want a goddamn drink, goddamn you!"

"You may need one," McCoy said. "Pick's been shot down, behind North Korean lines, near Taegu. We don't know whether he's still alive."

She looked at him for a long moment, then reached for the whiskey. She unscrewed the cap, took a pull, and handed it back to him.

"What happened?" she asked, levelly.

"He was shooting up locomotives. Best guess is he got hit by either antiaircraft or by pieces of the locomotive. Colonel Dunn flew over the site right afterward. It was on fire, but the cockpit was empty. We think he was probably in one piece when he put it down."

"And is now a prisoner?" she asked calmly.

"The odds are... ," McCoy began, and stopped when she took the whiskey bottle from his hand again. He didn't say anything when she took another pull and handed the bottle back again.

"That's my drink for tomorrow, Okay?" she said. "You were saying?"

"The odds are that the North Koreans would like to have a Marine aviator, a major, to interrogate."

"Especially if they knew his father was the CIA guy for Asia," she agreed.

"We don't think they know that," McCoy said. "And ob-viously, I could not permit you to write a story telling them."

"What are you going to do, keep me a prisoner until the end of the war?"

He didn't reply.

"Goddamn you, McCoy," she went on. "All you had to do was tell me."

"I couldn't take that chance," he said.

"And what is this, some kind of rescue operation?"

"There are two islands in the Flying Fish Channel lead-ing to Inchon from which the North Koreans could bring artillery fire to bear on the invasion fleet headed for In-chon. What we're going to try to do is take them now, very quietly, using South Korean national police, in such a way that they won't guess it's a prelude to an amphibious inva-sion."