1945 (47 page)

Martel nodded, sorry he'd brought it up.

"But that's only the beginning of the Betty story: you want to hear the rest?"

"Of course," Martel said quietly. "If there's time."

Donovan glanced at his watch again. "Barely. Anyway, on April 19th Betty jumped another plane at Templehof. Care to guess why?"

Martel raised an eyebrow, hoping that would be enough.

"Because," Donovan continued obligingly, "of your cousin Willi."

"What?"

"Sometimes the oddest coincidences turn out crucial," said a man who'd had his share of experience in that line. "You recall the time you and Willi were setting up a meet, and Betty happened across you while she was shopping?"

"Yeah. What a pain. Acres had a kitten."

"Well, be glad it happened. Willi had a message to pass on, and he knew there was a major leak Stateside, and that it was as much as his life was worth to communicate through the Embassy. The only person he was sure he

could trust was you. You, that is, and your secret fiancee who only he knew was your fiancee. Apparently as far as your cousin was concerned, Betty was already family."

Betty blushed prettily. So did Martel. Donovan grinned.

"It seems," Donovan continued, "that Willi spent a full week lurking outside, and finally caught Betty on another shopping expedition."

"I didn't recognize him at first," Betty interjected. "I thought he was trying to pick me up. If he hadn't looked so worried I'd have given him the brush-off."

"Well, thank God you didn't," Donovan said. "Because the message he gave you will win the coming war for us—if we win — and if you had refused to speak to him we wouldn't have gotten it."

" 'Look for Otto Skorzeny on an airfield from thirty to one hundred and fifty miles east-northeast of Manhattan,'" Betty said. "What it meant was as much a mystery to Willi as to me. Why would Skorzeny be running around Long Island Sound? When I told him, Mr. Donovan seemed to be able to make something of it, though. I thought he was going to arrest me."

Donovan grinned. "Well, I was a little excited for a minute there."

"So you called Harriman, and he told me and Wayne to check every airfield within one hundred and fifty miles of Oak Ridge. And we did. And there he was." Jim shook his head wonderingly, then looked rueful as he turned back to Betty. "And I thought you'd dropped me."

His gaze held hers for a long moment. Basking in the warmth he was now feeling made him begin to realize just how cold his world had been without her. Their hands touched, clung.

The main door to Donovan's office opened slighdy and an aide peered in. "Sir? They're here."

Donovan nodded. "Ask them in." Then, turning his attention back to Betty and Jim, he said with mock severity, "Let go of each other, you two. Time to get to work."

Donovan got up from his desk and moved toward the door as two men entered.

One Jim instanty recognized. He didn't know the other but he rose eagerly to seize Congressman Brian McDonnell's outstretched hand.

"Well Martel, you've certainly managed to insert yourself in the middle of things—and from what your boss here's been telling me, it's a damned good thing you did."

"Thank you sir."

"By the way, I took the liberty of calling your dad to let him know you were in that scrap last night, and that you're okay — but from the look of you, I think I may have reassured him a bit more than was strictly accurate. "

"I'm glad you did, sir. It'd be like him to put two and two together and figure out where I was and who I was playing patticake with. His heart being the way it is, I don't want him to start worrying."

McDonnell, old friend of the family, nodded acknowledgment and found a seat.

"Uh, sir, I'd like you to meet Betty McCann. My . . . fiancee."

McDonnell leapt back up. "Delighted!" Turning to Martel, "She's obviously much too good for you, you know."

Martel said in all seriousness, "Yes, sir, I do."

"I am not," Betty replied, pretending to continue McDonnell's joke, "I'm just right for him."

As he gestured at the visitor who had entered with him, Donovan said to the congressman, "I gather you and Kelly have met?"

"Committee meetings," McDonnell said succinctly, then added, "Jim, this is Kelly Johnson. He's a designer with Lockheed."

"Kelly, meet James Martel."

Jim was more than a little impressed. Though still a relatively young man, Kelly Johnson was already something of a legend.

"Kelly and I have worked together before," Donovan 
said. "When General Marshall explained what he has in mind to present to the President, I figured he'd be just the man to have sit in." Obscurely to all but Jim, he added,"... as Exhibit Two. He's been in town reviewing OSS files on German aircraft design, so I grabbed him."

Betty, Martel and Johnson sat themselves on the leather couch. Donovan and McDonnell took the facing easy chairs. After a bit of shuffling they all took steaming mugs of coffee from a tray that an aide brought in.

While they settled, Donovan looked at the GI clock on the wall, then unconsciously checked it against his watch. "In an hour and a half we leave for the White House. Jim, before then I'd like you to go over exactly what you and Marshall talked about. I've heard the gist of it already, but maybe I'll get some new insight. And for the Congressman, Kelly and Betty, this will be their first time through. If we're going to help in this we need to get our ideas in synch."

Jim hesitated.

"Don't worry, Jim. First off, General Marshall and I have already spoken about all this. Secondly, he understood when he spoke to you last night that you work for me. Thirdly, we are all of us—" He gestured broadly to include the group sitting before him " — on the same team. Marshall's team, really. Or maybe the President's if this works out as the General intends."

McDonnell stirred slightly. "Bill, as it happens I too have spoken with George Marshall this morning. That's why I'm here. And while I may not be on the General's 'team,' or the President's, you may rest assured that I find his ideas on a national surge of creative and industrial strength most intriguing, and mat if I too find this coming presentation persuasive, I plan to support them in every way I can."

Donovan paused for a moment at the not-quite-rebuke, then said, "Point taken, Congressman. My apologies if I seemed... presumptuous."

McDonnell waved the matter away.

Though horrified at the prospect of bringing Donovan up short a second time, still Jim hesitated. Marshall hadn't explicitly authorized him to repeat their private conversation, and—as he looked from the head of OSS to the Chairman of the Armed Services Committe he realized he was being ridiculous. If they'd said they'd talked to Marshall, they'd talked to Marshall, and Donovan was his boss.

"Yes, sir," he said simply.

"As soon as you have briefed us all, we'll try to brainstorm for a while. That ought to leave us with just enough time for you to grab that shower, which you do need...."

Jim looked over at Betty and smiled a bit sheepishly.

Suddenly Donovan seemed struck by a thought. "Betty, do you take shorthand?" he asked.

"Yes,
but it's not what I do, not anymore," Betty replied, a little taken aback at the question.

"Perhaps just this once," Donovan responded cryptically.

The Oval Office

Moments after the receptionist spoke into the box on her desk, John Mayhew appeared at the door and gestured for Donovan's group to enter. As they filed in they saw that the President was not alone. On three of the nearby easy chairs were seated George Marshall, his arm in a sling, Douglas MacArthur, and Bill Halsey. Apparently the four of them had been deep in conversation for some little time. There were also two secretaries seated at a desk in a far comer taking notes,

Harrison rose, smiling. "Brian!" As political protocol and wisdom demanded, he spoke first to the Chairman of Armed Services. "Good of you to join us on such short notice. General Marshall promises me you'll be glad you did, though."

"I'd have bought a ticket, Mr. President," McDonnell assured him. "This promises to be historic."

"That's what George tells me," Harrison agreed. "Bill, I suppose this must be Commander Martel, but perhaps you could introduce your other friends to me?"

"Mr. President, may I present Kelly Johnson of Lockheed, and Miss Elizabeth McCann, who until recently was for all practical purposes in charge of military intelligence at our Berlin Embassy."

Only a lifetime in politics allowed Harrison to maintain a look of polite friendliness as he absorbed this rather astounding assertion while gazing upon the twenty-seven-year-old girl before him. He did allow one eyebrow to raise a trifle.

"A peculiar set of circumstances, sir. Miss McCann was Administrative Assistant when the man in charge was suddenly recalled. Because things were rather . . . strange just then, I thought it best not to rock the boat."

The President was intrigued. "And how is it that you have just now returned, Miss McCann? Awfully lucky for you, I must say."

"More than luck, sir," Donovan answered for Betty. "She took it on herself to hand-carry a vital piece of information. The final piece of the puzzle that allowed us to locate Skorzeny."

The President winced at the name. "In that case, Miss McCann, you are very welcome indeed."

Normally unflappable, Betty for once was overwhelmed She could only smile and nod.

"And Mr. Johnson?"

"He builds airplanes. I very much hope his role here will shortly be made clear."

The President shrugged. "Very well. Please, all of you, be seated." He gestured toward the well-appointed furniture
j
placed within comfortable speaking distance of his desk as he returned to it and sat.

"General Marshall and I have been reviewing the general situation at Oak Ridge for the last hour, so assume I'm up to speed on that. We have also discussed his ideas for a radical shift in part of our military R&D procedures. I must say that there aren't many from whom I would have listened to 
such a scheme. On the other hand, by the time he was finished, he had made me a provisional believer. Who better to set goals than those who can set the highest possible reachable ones? Reachable in terms of time and money as well as simple feasibility, I mean. But note I said provisional believer. General Marshall has promised me a chance to watch his new system in operation. In retrospect I must say that as convincing as it was when he laid it out, it is already seeming a bit like voodoo."

Marshall spoke up from where, a wounded warrior, he had availed himself of the privilege of remaining seated. "Mr. President, the results will seem like voodoo too. Voodoo that works."

"Well. I await my own amazement, General Marshall. If this . . . demonstration is as successful as you lead me to hope, there will be more such meetings as this."

Marshall smiled, confident of his magic. "Truth, sir, is an amazingly powerful tool, when used with discretion."

"Especially among politicians, eh?" the President added lightly.

Donovan chose this moment to break in. "Speaking of discretion, Mr. President, since we are hoping that this meeting will not merely involve secrets, but maybe even generate one or two, it is crucial that what gets said not be passed on. As you know, Edgar and I agree that there must be a leak somewhere in this building." He glanced significantly at the two secretaries sitting in the corner.

The President shrugged and nodded to Mayhew, who had settled himself inconspicuously in a chair just within hearing range. Mayhew rose, walked over to the secretaries and murmured something to them. As he made to return to his chair, Donovan spoke again. "Mr. President, nothing personal here, but no one has been ruled out in this investigation."

Mayhew stopped short as every eye in the room turned to him.

"John ... ?" the President said gently.

Eyes downcast, Mayhew unobtrusively left by the same door that had just closed on the two secretaries.

"I'm sorry to have discommoded John like that, sir."

"Yes. Quite. Is there anyone else here you do not trust fully?" Since Andrew Harrison was the only person in the Oval Office not there at the express request of Marshall and Donovan, this was a rather loaded question.

"No sir," Donovan said with careful neutrality.

"I must say, though," Harrison went on thoughtfully, "that John took it very well. He's generally terribly solicitous of his own prerogatives. He's really not been himself lately...."

A delicate cough from Marshall broke the ensuing silence. The rest of the group returned to the moment, only Donovan remaining lost in his meditations. Unobtrusively he fished a notebook from his jacket and wrote,
"Mayhew?? Talk to Edgar soonest."
As he did so, Betty stood and went to the desk the two secretaries had occupied.

"Ah, Miss McCann?" the President said gently.

"Sir? Mr. Donovan said I might be asked to keep a record of this meeting. I'm more than happy to—"