Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 08 - In Dangers Path

«I'll take Captain McCoy off your hands, Charley,» the Deputy Director (Operations) said.

«I just told Colonel Bann—«

«I just saw him in the hall; he told me,» the DDO interrupted.

»—that it was my intention to have Captain McCoy's extraordinary facility with languages tested, and then to send him to the training base.»

«Charley, you were there when General Pickering told Wild Bill that one of the officers he was bringing in with him had already done three successful behind-the-lines operations. He was speaking of Captain McCoy. And Pickering wasn't counting what McCoy did for Banning in China before the war. I've just made the decision that it would be a waste of time and money either to test his language skills—I'll take Colonel Banning's word about that—or to send him to the Country Club. Do we understand each other?»

«I'll have to discuss the matter with Director Donovan.»

«And at the same meeting, it was decided that all of General Pickering's people will be issued barber's pole badges. Why don't we give McCoy's to him while he's here, and save him time?»

The DDA looked at the DDO for fifteen seconds, then picked up his telephone. «Mrs. Rogers, would you please pull Captain McCoy's Any Area Any Time identification badge from the safe and have him sign for it as he leaves? And then come in here, please. I need to dictate a memorandum for the record.»

«You want to come with me, please, Captain?» the DDO asked.

McCoy followed him out of the office.

The DDO watched as Mrs. Rogers made McCoy sign for the identification badge, politely told her, «Thank you, very much, Mrs. Rogers,» and then led McCoy out of the outer officer into the corridor.

Banning, who had been leaning against the corridor wall, stood erect.

The DDO put his hand out to McCoy. «Welcome aboard, McCoy,» he said. «I'm out of time right now—Banning will explain—but we'll find time for a chat as soon as possible. In the meantime, are you familiar with that great truth about any bureaucracy?»

«Sir?»

» 'In any bureaucracy, one may expect to find, near the top, a certain percentage of assholes,' « the DDO said. «You might want to write that down.» Then he turned to Lieutenant Colonel Banning: «He's all yours, Ed.»

He touched McCoy's shoulder and walked away.

«You owe him,» Banning said. «If I hadn't bumped into him in the hall, you would have been doing push ups and knee bends at the Country Club by the time I found General Pickering.»

«Who is he?»

«The number-two guy around here, the Deputy Director (Operations), he's on our side. I'm not sure about the other clown. Come on. I'll show you the White Room, and put you to work.»

In order for McCoy to gain entrance to the White Room, it was necessary for one of the two armed guards on duty outside the unmarked door to compare his face with the photo on the identification badge, and then to check a typewritten list under a top secret cover sheet to make sure his name was on the list. He then nodded to the other security officer, who unlocked the door to the room.

The room was windowless, illuminated with concealed lighting. Thick carpets covered the floor and sound-absorbing material was on the walls. A lectern and a projection screen were at one end of the room, a motion picture and slide projector at the other. The large central conference table showed signs of use; it was littered with paper, some of it crumpled, dirty coffee cups, and empty Coke bottles.

The door was closed, and immediately a whirring noise came from the film and slide projectors. The projectors were automatically shut off when the door was opened, McCoy realized. A moment later, a map flashed onto the screen.

Shit, that's the goddamned Gobi Desert! 1 thought that operation was canceled, or at least on hold!

Well, what the hell did I expect?

«We've been in here for the best part of two days,» Banning said. «Without accomplishing very much. You are hereby appointed,

vice

Lieutenant Colonel Banning, cleaning officer.»

«Which means?»

«You will pick up every scrap of paper and put it in a burn bag. You will then telephone Classified Files—the number's on the phone—and they will come and collect everything—maps, slides, notes, and the burn bag, or bags—and haul it off. Then you will go outside and sign a certificate stating that the White Room is clean—meaning of classified material; somebody will come and deal with the Coke bottles and coffee cups—and it is available for use by others.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

«Let me give you a quick run-through of where we are on Operation Gobi — which frankly is nowhere. And then you can perform your cleaning officer duties and go home. Where is home, by the way?»

«I'm at the Lafayette,» Ken said.

«If you're uncomfortable in the General's apartment, you can bunk with me for a couple of days until we can find you something.»

«I'm not in General Pickering's apartment,» McCoy said. «I'm in the American Personal Pharmaceuticals suite.»

«Ernie's with you?»

McCoy nodded.

«Then you go home to Ernie and tell her to do something about your sunburn. You really look awful.»

«I feel awful.»

Banning walked to one end of the room and stood in front of the map projected on the screen. «What is needed, Ken, is a weather station in this area,» he gestured at the map, «to give what Colonel Hazeltine describes as reports of atmospheric fronts and conditions there.

«Now, we have reason to believe that a few Americans are already in the neighborhood, some former Marine guards at the Peking legation, the rest retired Marines, soldiers, and Yangtze River patrol sailors. And their wives and children.» He paused. «At any point, Ken, ask questions.»

«Aye, aye, sir,» McCoy said. He slipped into one of the upholstered chairs and reached for a coffee pitcher.

«Communication with them is spotty at best, and we don't know where they are, and we can't ask them, because they have no cryptographic capability. And, to repeat, the communications are lousy.

«Ideally, we would make up a meteorological team—that's a minimum of four men, and about a ton of equipment, much of it expendable: weather balloons, for example, which will be consumed at the rate of two or three a day, and have to be resupplied, if we ever get that far—and send it in by airplane. Since no airplane has the range to make it back and forth from one of our bases, even if it wasn't intercepted, that means it would be a one-way mission.

«But since we don't know where our people are, or where the Japanese are, it doesn't make any sense to send in a team on an expendable airplane. Or should I say an expendable team on an expendable airplane? We need knowledge of the terrain, and the disposition of Japanese forces. We have neither.»

«Zimmerman spent four months in the Gobi Desert,» McCoy said.

«What?» Banning asked in disbelief.

«When he first went to the Fourth Marines, 1938, somewhere around then, there was a bunch of people from the

National Geographic

magazine who went up there. The Fourth Marines provided the truck drivers. Zimmerman was one of them.»

«You sure about that, Ken?» Pickering asked.

«Yes, sir. He told me about it. There's hardly any sand, he told me, it's mostly flat and rocky.» He hesitated. «I think he went back up there after the explorers left.»

«Why do you say that?»

«Out of school?»

«Sure.»

«I think he was involved in smuggling,» McCoy said.

«Smuggling what? And from where to where?»

«Jade and fancy vases out of China into India, and gold back from India. Or stuff from Russia, through some other country inside Russia.»