Mrs. Feller defused the situation by taking McCoy into her bed.
Unfortunately, the affair almost got out of hand; the damned fool fancied he was in love with her. The result was an unpleasant scene on the ship just before it sailed. Afterward, she worried for a long time that he would take revenge and turn her in over the jade. But when the Fourth Marines were transferred to the Philippines, her fear vanished-forever, she thought.
There was no way they were going to get out of the Philippines, not with the Japanese there. And even if he survived the war, no one would care about jade removed illegally from China in 1941.
The trouble was that McCoy seemed to have nine lives. He got out of the Philippines somehow and showed up in Washington, as a fresh-from-OCS second lieutenant. The last she heard of him he was in the 2nd Raider Battalion. He survived the Makin Island raid, too, just as he'd survived the Philippines.
The bastard has more lives than a cat!
And what is he... what are all of them doing here now?
"Who's the sergeant with McCoy?" Banning asked.
"Interesting guy," Dillon said. "He used to be a detective on the vice squad in St. Louis. Rickabee plucked him out of Parris Island and made him Pickering's bodyguard."
"What's he doing here?" Banning asked.
"He's here because he told Brigadier General Pickering that he wanted to come," he said, using the line he'd used for Moore, "and Brigadier General Pickering said, `Good boy."
"In other words, you're not going to tell me?"
"Not until McCoy and Hart get here, and Mrs. Feller goes shopping or something," Dillon said.
"Major Dillon," Ellen Feller said coldly, "I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but I hold the same security clearances as Major Banning,"
"I didn't know that, Mrs. Feller," Jake said. "But what I do know is that General Pickering told me that the less you know about this the better."
"You won't mind, will you, Major," she said, "if I verify that with General Pickering?"
"I wish you would," Dillon said- calmly. "But for the moment, I'd be grateful if you could find something else to do for an hour or two. Here comes a truck. I suspect McCoy and Hart are on it."
"How am I supposed to do my job if I am denied access to... whatever is going on around here?"
"Mrs. Feller, I'm just a simple Marine," Jake Dillon said. "General Pickering gave me an order and I'm going to carry it out. He said that the less you know about this, the better."
She stood up, her face white.
Whatever you do now, don't lose your temper! Just get out of here, calm down, and think this through. There is absolutely no reason to think you won't be able to deal with this offensive bastard.
"Major Banning, may I use the Studebaker?" Ellen asked
"Are we going to need wheels, Jake?"
"Possibly," Dillon said. "Can't you call and get a staff car?"
"You can't get a staff car this time of night, and you know it!"
Careful, Ellen! They would love it if you lost your temper!
"I think I can get you one, Mrs. Feller," Lieutenant Pluto Hon said, and walked to the telephone.
[Three]
LADIES' BAR
MCSHAY'S SALOON & CAFE
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA
2005 HOURS 29 SEPTEM13ER 1942
"What are we doing in here?" ` Major Ed Banning asked Lieutenant Ken McCoy as McCoy led him into the room and to a table.
"There aren't as many people in here as in the other bar," McCoy said. "I looked through the window."
A waitress came to the table. She stood about five feet tall and measured nearly that distance around,
"And what can I get for the Yanks?"
"I want a beer, please," McCoy said. "And how about something to eat?"
What would you like, love?"
"I would like a steak about that thick," he said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch and a half apart. "Medium."
The waitress laughed. "But you'd settle, right, for fish and chips?"
"How about scrambled eggs and chips?"
The waitress nodded.
"And for you, love?"
"Just the beer, please," Banning said. He waited until she was out of earshot, then asked, "Is that why we left the house?" "You were hungry?"
"I got you out of there because you were about to get into it with Dillon and say something you would regret," McCoy said. "And because I'm starved."
"You understand," Banning said, "that I will have to ask to be relieved?"
"Shit," McCoy said.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"That I was right in getting you out of there," McCoy said.
The beer was delivered in two enormous, foamy mugs.
McCoy took a swallow of his and made a face.
"It's warm," he said.
"The Aussies like it that way," Banning said.
"Jesus!"
"They get that from the English," Banning said, and then returned to his original topic. "It has been made perfectly clear that there is considerable doubt in my ability to perform my assigned duties. Under the circumstances I have no choice but to request to be relieved. Can't you see that?"
"Drink your beer," McCoy said.
"I can't understand your reaction to Pickering's idiotic idea," Banning said. "You actually seem to think it can be carried off."
"One, I'm just a simple Mustang who does what he's ordered to do. And, two, yeah, I think it can be carried off."
"Not by me!"
"If you're not going to play by my rules, I'm going to take my ball and go home, and fuck all of you!" Right?"
"McCoy, we've been friends for a long time, but don't push it! I'm not a child, and this is not a goddamned game!"
"It really hasn't been a long time, but it does seem like fucking forever, doesn't it?" McCoy said. "My ambition in Shanghai was maybe to make staff sergeant before I retired."
"It's hard to believe all that's happened in the last year, eighteen months."
"I wonder what's happening in Shanghai tonight?"
"Some Jap sonofabitch is driving my Pontiac down the Bund," Banning said, chuckling. "And will probably get laid in my bed later on."
"You never heard anything about Mrs. Banning?"
"No," Banning said softly, flatly.
"White Russians seem able to deal with bad situations," McCoy said.
"What do they call that, `Whistling in the dark'?"
"She made it from Russia to Shanghai," McCoy said. "That took some doing."
"You don't think Shanghai, under the Japs, would be worse for a white woman?"
"Was that a question or what?"
"A question."
"I don't think the Japs are standing every white face they see against a wall, which is what the communists did to the White Russians. For all you know, she's just in some internment camp with other Americans."
"She's not an American."
"She's an American officer's wife. She can say she lost her passport and her other identification. I think that's what she probably tried to do, and I think she can probably get away with it." Banning held his empty beer mug over his head.
"Right you are, love," the waitress bellowed.
"I am going to request that I be relieved," Banning said.
"Can't you see that I have to?"
"We need you for this goddamned operation, don't be silly."
"That's why Pickering sent Dillon over here, right?"
"Pickering thinks you became too professional, too cold blooded, and fell under the evil influence of the Australian swabbie."
"What the hell does that mean'?"
"What's his name?"
"Feldt, Lieutenant Commander Eric Feldt, and I would appreciate it if you didn't call him an Australian swabbie."
"Pickering thinks that Feldt is too willing to write these guys off. Pickering is thinking like he's still a corporal in France, running around no-man's-land picking up the wounde
d. The difference, the important difference, is that Pickering has the influence. He's a general."
"What's influence got to do with it?"
"If your man Feldt gets in the way, he's going to get run over. "
"That would really be the cherry on the cake," Banning said.
"If it wasn't for Feldt there wouldn't be a Coastwatcher Establishment. If they relieve him, it would collapse."
"Then you better tell him not to cross Dillon, because that's the same as crossing Pickering. If he does, he's out on his ass. Your man Feldt works for the Australian Admiral with two names-"
"Soames-Haley," Banning furnished. "Vice Admiral Keith Soames-Haley."
"Right. Who is an old buddy of Pickering's. Dillon's going to see him first thing tomorrow morning, with a letter from Pickering. If it comes to Soames-Haley having to make a choice between Pickering and Feldt, who do you think it will be?"
"Sonofabitch!"
"What you better do is stop insisting this can't be done and start thinking about how it can be." Banning looked at him for a long moment before replying.
"As you were saying, McCoy, it seems only yesterday that you were a corporal I was defending on a murder charge."
"Yeah, and you wanted me to throw myself on the mercy of the court and take my chances on getting no more than six months or a year in Portsmouth. You didn't even ask me if I was guilty.
Banning's face tightened.
"That was below the belt, don't you think?"
"It's the truth. The Colonel wanted to stay on the right side of the American Consul General and the Italians, and if that meant a corporal had to go to Portsmouth, tough luck for him. And you went along with him."
The reason I'm so goddamned mad, Banning thought, is that it is the unvarnished truth.
"I thought you accepted my apology for that," Banning said.
McCoy shrugged. "You brought it up. I was willing to forget it."
The waitress appeared suddenly. In one hand she held two beer mugs. In the other was a plate heaped high with french fried potatoes and scrambled eggs, topped with two slices of toast.
"In other words, you're in agreement with Pickering that I haven't done enough to try to get those two off Buka? Maybe because I don't want to make waves? Because not doing more than I have was the easiest thing to do?"
"I'm very impressed with Pickering," McCoy said.
"That doesn't answer the question."
"OK. Yeah, I am."
"That brings us back to square one. I have to ask to be relieved."
"Who are you going to ask? Rickabee?"
"He's my immediate superior."
"He works for Pickering."
"That whole thing is a sick joke. Pickering has no more right to be a brigadier general than-"
"Than what? Than Jake Dillon has to be a major? Than me to be a lieutenant'? Is that what's really bothering you? You think we're all a bunch of amateur Marine officers, ex-enlisted men, who should defer to your professional officer-type thinking?"
"Now you've gone too far," Banning said coldly.
"Not quite," McCoy said. "Let me go all the way. Let me tell you my orders. From Rickabee, not Pickering. I am to advise him within forty-eight hours of my arrival here whether or not I think you're going to be in the way. If I decide you will be in the way, you'll be on the next plane out of here and you'll spend the rest of the war counting mess kits in Barstow."
The Marine Corps operated a large supply depot at Barstow, California.
Banning looked at him as if he could not believe what he just heard.
"I find that hard to believe," he said finally.
"Believe it. They sent me to the 2nd Raider Battalion to see if Colonel Evans Carlson was a communist and needed to be gotten rid of. You're only a major. You're not even in the same league."
"Apparently," Banning replied sarcastically, "you decided Carlson was not a communist."
McCoy ignored him.
"Sessions has his bags packed. He's got that MAGIC clearance that I'm not supposed to know about. You wanted to know why Moore was sent here still using a cane: Moore will fill in for you doing whatever this MAGIC crap is. You want to get relieved, stay on your high horse and Sessions will be on his way here in seventy-two hours." Banning picked up his beer mug, took a long pull at it, and then burped.
"Well, Lieutenant McCoy, I am relieved to learn that Jake Dillon's not really in charge."
"Don't underestimate Major Dillon, Major Banning," McCoy said.
"I don't want to count mess kits," Banning said.
"That's up to you," McCoy said. "I hope both you and Feldt are around to help while we do this."
"He's not going to like it," Banning said.
"The idea itself, or the challenge to his authority?"
"Either. Both."
"Then you better talk to him." Banning nodded.
"What do you want from me, McCoy?"
"I want you to punch holes in the plan and then I want solutions to the problems you find." Banning nodded.
"Ellen Feller's liable to pose problems," Banning said. "The way Dillon ran her off was stupid. He didn't have to tell her to butt out; he didn't have to get her ego involved. She'll be on the back channel to Pickering by morning. If she hasn't already radioed to tell him to tell us to let her in on this."
"He won't," McCoy said. "He doesn't want her to get splattered if the shit hits the fan. "
"Did you know that your sainted General Pickering was fucking her?"
"No," McCoy admitted, visibly surprised. "You're sure'?" Banning nodded.
"And Lieutenant Moore has enjoyed the privilege of her bed.
"No kidding?"
"Everybody, apparently, but you and me," Banning said, and smiled.
"Everybody but you and Dillon," McCoy said. "But that was as of an hour ago."
"You, too?" McCoy didn't respond to the question.
"Dillon's quite a swordsman," he said admiringly. "Hart told me he had Veronica Wood in the sack in Washington. He saw them."
"Veronica Wood?" Banning said. "Maybe there is more to Dillon than meets the eye." Their eyes met for a moment, long enough for them both to understand that they'd resolved the problem between them.
"Speaking of women," McCoy said, "do you happen to know if our Lieutenant Howard had a girlfriend over here""
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he did. Does. Why?"
"Well, he's like me. No family. His home address is care of USMC, Washington, D.C. We need some really personal details about this girlfriend."
"What for?"
"Radio code, before we go in. Where is this girl? Who is she?"
"She's a Navy nurse, assigned to the 4th General Hospital in Melbourne."
"I want to talk to her," McCoy said. "Right away."
"She knows where he is, incidentally. And so does Steve Koffler's girl. She's in the RAN. I can have both of them here by tomorrow afternoon.
I'll have to find a phone."
"It'll wait until after I eat," McCoy said. "You're sure you don't want some of this?"
"If you insist, Ken," Banning said, reaching for a french fry.
"I'm glad we're back to `Ken,"' McCoy said. "Let's keep it that way."
Banning met his eyes and nodded.
[Four]
WATER LILY COTTAGE
MANCHESTER AVENUE
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA
1530 HOURS 30 SEPTEMBER 1942
Lieutenant John Marston Moore was lying on the couch with his legs elevated on two pillows.
"It says here," he said, lowering The Brisbane Dispatch and reaching for a bottle of beer on the coffee table, "that they made 488 cargo ships last year."
"Who's `they'?" Lieutenant K. R. McCoy asked. He was sitting at a table with Lieutenant Hon Song Do, having just taught General MacArthur's favorite bridge partner the favorite game of Marine enlisted men, Acey-Deucy.
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