In Danger's Path (76 page)

“Explain that ‘Oh!', Ken.”

“I'm guessing, sir.”

“Guess.”

“I heard—what, four, five days later—that General Dempsey and the other one?”

“Newley?”

“Yes, sir. That they had been placed in arrest to quarters. That had to be serious; they don't relieve general officers without good reason. And then Colonel Waterson shows up from Brisbane, and right after him, Colonel Albright, now a general himself, and takes General Dempsey's place. And now you tell me that the guy from the OSS has been put in St. Elizabeth's. The only explanation for that is
MAGIC
.”

“What do you know about
MAGIC
, Ken?”

“It's only another guess, sir,” McCoy replied.

“Guess.”

“First of all, it's a special cryptographic system, one that regular crypto people don't know anything about. With special crypto devices. Which we brought here.”

“Anything else?”

“It has something to do with Japanese cryptography. Pluto and Moore are analysts, as well as crypto people. That looks to me like we've broken Japanese codes, are reading their communications, and damned sure don't want them to even suspect we are.”

“I'm not going to comment on your guesses, Captain McCoy,” Pickering said. “But I am going to give you a direct order.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You are forbidden to discuss with anyone, except Colonel Banning or myself, in any manner whatsoever, anything connected with
MAGIC
.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

All I have done, of course, is let him know his guesses are right on the money
.

“How did you hear about General Dempsey being placed in arrest?”

“I sent Zimmerman to the NCO club to find out whatever he could.”

“In uniform, presumably, and freshly shaven?”

“Yes, sir, the beards were the first thing to go. They made us stand out like a couple of whores in church.”

“And the word was out that General Dempsey had been relieved?”

“Yes, sir. Nobody seems to know why. I sent Zimmerman back another time to see if he could find out, and what the NCO's were saying…I'm not sure you want to hear this, General.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That they were queer,” McCoy said.

“
MAGIC
never came up?”

“No, sir.”

“Go on, Ken.”

“So I put on my uniform and went to the OSS house to see what I could find out. I was hoping to see Colonel Banning, but he wasn't there. Colonel Platt was.”

“And?”

“I showed him my ONI credentials and told him I was Navy Intelligence, and was looking for Colonel Banning. That didn't work too well. He had my name from someplace. Probably this General Dempsey gave it to him. And he told me he knew that I was in the OSS, that he knew all about Operation Gobi, and told me I was now under the orders of the OSS station here. Meaning him. I told him, with respect, that I couldn't put myself or Zimmerman under his orders.”

“And what did he say?”

“First, if I ‘remained insubordinate' he would court-martial me, and then if I tried to leave the OSS compound, he would have me shot. He was really pissed. He actually took his pistol out when I started to leave.”

“You weren't worried that he would actually shoot you?”

“He's not the type to shoot somebody,” McCoy said. “And neither was the captain—Sampson, I think—in his office. But if he'd had a couple of MPs around, he
would
have ordered them to throw me in the stockade.”

“So then what happened?”

“Well, I started making preparations to go into the Gobi.”

“General,” Hart said. “We're getting close to the house. Do you want me to drive around the block?”

“Go very slow for a minute, George,” Pickering ordered. “How did you know I was here, Ken?”

“I had a couple of Chinese boys watching the airport, sir,” McCoy said. “And a couple more watching the OSS compound. When they reported that a tall, American general got off an enormous airplane, and General Albright and Colonel Waterson met him and took him to the OSS house, I thought it would probably be you.”

“You've been spying on the OSS?” Pickering asked.

“I thought some ‘discreet surveillance' wouldn't hurt anything, sir. I didn't get the reports about you until about an hour and a half ago. I came as soon as I could. When I got to the OSS house, I saw you driving out with Colonel Waterson, so I followed you to the airfield.”

“Sir, we're at the gate,” Hart said. “What do I do?”

“Go in, George,” Pickering ordered. “I want to properly introduce Captain McCoy to Colonel Platt and Captain Sampson.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Hart stopped the car before the OSS compound gate. One of the Chinese guards came out of the guard shack and ambled slowly to the gate in the wall.

McCoy rolled down the window and barked something in Mandarin.

The guard spun around, came to quivering attention, and saluted.

McCoy said something else in Mandarin.

The guard saluted again and hastily opened the gate.

“What was that all about?” Pickering asked.

“Nothing important, sir.”

“I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much, Captain McCoy.”

“I told him to pass the ambulance, he's with us, sir,” McCoy said.

“He didn't pop to attention like that because you told him to pass the ambulance through,” Pickering said.

“I also told him that if he ever fails to salute you again, I will send his private parts back to his commanding officer on the point of a bayonet,” McCoy said. “In the Chinese army, they take threats like that seriously.”

The Chinese sentry saluted crisply when the Studebaker rolled through the gate, and again when the unmarked ambulance passed.

“Oh, I'm glad you're still here, Ed,” General Pickering said to Banning when he pushed open the door to Platt's office and found Banning, Platt, and Sampson standing before a map of northern China on one of the easels. “Look who found me.”

“I'll be goddamned,” Lieutenant Colonel Banning said.

“Good afternoon, sir,” McCoy said, smiling.

“Colonel Platt, I understand you and Captain Sampson have met Captain McCoy,” Pickering said. “But I don't think you've met Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman.”

Platt and Sampson were literally wide-eyed at the sight of the two American Marines wearing the uniforms of officers of the Nationalist Chinese Army. “Captain,” Colonel Platt said uneasily, “I hope you understand that when we met, I wasn't fully aware of the situation.”

“Yes, sir,” McCoy said.

“I was about to clear the air between you two, Colonel,” Pickering said, “to tell you that Captain McCoy was correct in his decision not to place himself under the authority of OSS Chungking, but just now I had an unpleasant thought.”

“Sir?” Platt asked.

“Captain McCoy tells me that when he showed you his ONI credentials that you already knew his name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you get his name?”

“General Dempsey telephoned me about Captain McCoy, sir.”

“And what exactly did he say?”

“He said there were two OSS agents, one of them Captain McCoy, whom he had ordered to report to me, and that he hoped that I would quickly order them to shave and get into uniform.”

“I thought that might be it,” Pickering said. “I have something to say about that. Until just this moment, I was actually very sympathetic about General Dempsey. Maybe, as an individual, I still am. But as an officer, I just lost my sympathy for him. Captain McCoy's orders were issued by the JCS and were classified Top Secret. General Dempsey did not have the authority—and damned sure should have known he did not—to pass on to you any Top Secret information that had come into his hands just because he knew you had a Top Secret clearance and thought you should know what was in Banning's and McCoy's orders.”

“Sir, with respect,” Platt said, “I'm the Chungking station chief. Are you saying…?”

“I'm saying, Colonel, that you had no right to know anything about Banning's and McCoy's Top Secret orders until it was determined by competent authority that you had the Need To Know. Banning has the authority to show you his orders—or anyone else he deems has the Need To Know. That's spelled out in the orders. General Dempsey did not have that authority, but he assumed it. Presumably because he thought that as a major general he had that authority. It has nothing to do with rank, and everything with the Need To Know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I think, Ed,” Pickering said, “that General Dempsey's relief came just in time. Before, in other words, he started talking about other things because he thought somebody should know, and that he had the authority to determine Need To Know.”

“Yes, sir,” Banning said. “That occurred to me, General.”

“I want you to have a talk with your people, Colonel Platt, to make sure they understand the importance of Need To Know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I dislike delivering lectures,” Pickering said. “But it seemed to me that one was necessary.” He looked around the room at each man in turn. “The immediate application of what I just said, Captain Sampson, is that from this moment—despite what they know about it already—no further details concerning Operation Gobi will be provided to anyone in OSS Chungking unless I, Colonel Banning, or Captain McCoy determines they have the Need To Know. Do you understand that?”

“Sir, Colonel Platt told me that yesterday.”

“Okay, now let's talk about Operation Gobi,” Pickering said. “To begin…”

“Sir, may I suggest we begin by asking Captain McCoy why he is wearing the uniform of a Nationalist Chinese major?” Banning asked with a smile.

“Why not?” Pickering said. “It was your idea, as I recall, Ken, to pass yourselves off as caravan people. What's with those Nationalist uniforms? Not that you don't look very natty.”

“It didn't take me long to figure out that wasn't going to work, sir. But the real reason is that almost as soon as Colonel Banning ordered me and the gunny to make ourselves scarce, I realized that probably the worst way to do that was to wander around Chungking wearing beards and civilian clothing. We really attracted a lot of attention at first.”

“Why Chinese uniforms?” Pickering asked.

“Well, so far as I know, the Marines in this room are the only Marines in Chungking,” McCoy replied. “And when I came here to see Colonel Platt, it seemed to me my Marine uniform attracted as much attention in Kiangpeh—”

“Kiangpeh?” Pickering interrupted.

“It's a town down the river a little, sir. A suburb, I suppose.”

“And that's where you've been?” Banning asked.

“Yes, sir. I rented a house there.”

“Before or after you became a Chinese major?” Banning asked.

“After,” McCoy said. “When I came back here in my Marine uniform, that attracted as much attention as the beard and civvies. But I had noticed a dozen, maybe more, westerners in Nationalist uniforms. And found out they were White Russians. The only people who ask questions about Nationalist Army majors are lieutenant colonels or better.”

“Why a major, Ken?” Pickering asked. “Or is that a dumb question?”

“The Chinese have to make mercenaries they recruit at least majors, sir. They don't pay much in the Nationalist Army.”

“Where'd you get the uniforms?” Pickering asked.

“We went to a tailor.”

“And did you give some thought to what might happen to you, Captain,” Colonel Platt asked, “if you were stopped by the Chinese military police and asked for identification?”

“Yes, sir,” McCoy said, and reached in his pocket and came out with an oblong piece of cardboard. It was printed in Chinese and had a photograph stapled to it.

“Major K. R. MeeKoy,” he said, handing it to Pickering. “Of the 2035th Liaison Group, Nineteenth Corps.”

“That looks legitimate,” Pickering said, handing it to Platt.

Platt looked at it, then handed it to Banning.

“That's what it says,” Banning said. “It identifies him as Major MeeKoy of the 2035th Liaison Group, whatever the hell that's supposed to be.”

“Zimmerman got them from the same printer that does them for the Chinese Army,” McCoy said. “And with the Nansen passports we got in Maryland, it works like a charm.”