The Fighting Agents

by W. E. B Griffin

  “I don’t see that it could be avoided,” Stevens said.

  “No,” Bruce agreed, then: “I presume this is one of those things in which Miss Hoche has a special interest?”

  Stevens nodded.

  “Well, let’s get on with it, then,” Bruce said. “You first, Charity, please.”

  She didn’t seem surprised, but neither did she say anything.

  “The way we do this, Charity,” Bruce explained, “is ‘in the military manner.’ That is to say, the junior member of this panel is asked for his . . . her . . . opinion first, so that it will not be influenced by that of more senior members. ”

  Charity nodded.

  “I don’t see that we have any choice but to give Dick Canidy what he’s asked for,” she said, and then quickly added, “at least until we hear to the contrary from Washington. ”

  “That doesn’t address the question of authorizing him to try to get Fulmar and Professor Dyer out of the jail in Pécs,” Bruce said.

  “I think we’ll be told what to do about that,” Charity said. Bruce looked at Stevens, who just perceptibly nodded his head in agreement.

  “What he’s asked for, specifically, is the next available Hungarian-speaking team, thirty pounds of C-2, and twenty thousand dollars in mixed currency,” Bruce said. “That’s what you mean?”

  Charity nodded. “That, and Captain Fine to step in as control.”

  “We’ll start with that, then,” Bruce said. “Unless I hear an objection, I will ask Fine if there is some reason he cannot, or thinks he should not, take over as control.”

  He looked at Stevens, then at Helene Dancy, and finally at Fine.

  “No, Sir,” Fine said.

  “So ordered,” Bruce said.

  “One thing, Stanley,” Stevens said. “Charity is cleared for this. All the way.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Fine said.

  “I want to clarify that, Stan,” Bruce said. “Charity is to be brought into anything connected with this that Colonel Stevens and myself are.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Fine repeated.

  “Well, why don’t you sit here,” Bruce said, “and take over this meeting?”

  “I don’t mind standing, Sir,” Fine said.

  “I’d rather walk around,” Bruce said, and gestured for Fine to sit down.

  Fine sat down at Bruce’s desk, put a lined pad on the green blotter in front of him, and took a pencil from a dozen sitting, point up, in a gray pottery orange-marmalade jar.

  “Helene,” he said. “You’ll take care of the money? Is that going to pose any problem?”

  “We don’t have that much,” Capt. Dancy said. “But I can have it by, say, nine in the morning.”

  “And the C-2?”

  “I’m sure there’s at least that much at Whitbey House,” Colonel Stevens said.

  “There should be,” Helene Dancy agreed. “But I’ll check.”

  “That, then, brings us to the team,” Fine said.

  “First,” Charity Hoche said. “To the question of their documents. Canidy said Hungarian and/or Yugoslavian. If we can, I think we should give them both.”

  Fine’s face was expressionless, but Colonel Stevens thought he saw in his eyes a hint of surprise, even annoyance.

  “Helene?” Fine asked.

  “Documents Section can handle that,” Capt. Dancy said. “They’ll need four hours.”

  “Why so long?” Charity asked.

  “They don’t have very much of the proper paper for the photographs,” Dancy explained. “We have to use their paper; it produces a characteristic grain and image flatness. The Hungarian is different from the Yugoslavian. And the only place we can get it is on the local black markets. It is also lousy paper, and it takes that much time to be sure. In case they have to print the photographs twice, or even three times.”

  “But they will be able to come up with what we need?” David Bruce asked.

  “Probably in forty-five minutes,” Helene Dancy said. “I’m using the worst possible scenario.”

  “Have we got a team to photograph?” Fine asked.

  “They have all been photographed, Stanley,” Helene Dancy said. “Several times, in work clothes, suits, even in Black Guard uniforms. Printing is the problem.”

  “That’s not what I really meant,” Fine said. “I’ll rephrase. Is a team available? If there is more than one available, which is the better of them?”

  “I was out there when this came up, Stanley,” Colonel Stevens said. “There are two teams finished with training, one in the last week.”

  “Did Jamison give you any indication which was better? ” Fine asked.

  “There is a problem,” Stevens said. “The teams that have finished their training have been trained to go in to Tito, not Mihajlović.”

  “God!” Bruce said. There were two major guerrilla forces in Yugoslavia. Colonel Draža Mihajlović led a force of Royalists, and Josip Broz, who called himself “Tito,” led a larger force of Communists.

  “It was necessary, David,” Stevens said. “We had to appear even-handed, and that meant sending teams to Tito.”

  “What about the team in training?” Bruce asked.

  “Mihajlović,” Stevens said. “But it’s a communications team. No specific training for something like this.”

  “What about János?” Helene Dancy asked. “When does he get out of his cast?”

  “Friday,” Charity said.

  “Who the hell is János?” Bruce asked.

  “The first lieutenant who broke his ankle,” Dancy furnished.

  “Well, we can hardly take his cast off one day and jump him in the next,” Bruce said.

  “János was trained to go in to Mihajlović,” Dancy said.

  “And we’re not going to jump them in anyway,” Charity said. Bruce snapped his head around to look at her. Charity smiled, and added, “Are we?”

  “We may have to,” Stevens said. “With Dolan under the weather, I think we have to leave him out of the equation. And that means there’s no one but that young pilot . . . whatsisname?”

  “Darmstadter,” Helene Dancy furnished.

  “Darmstadter,” Stevens said, “. . . to fly the B-25. Which means either parachuting them onto Vis or, for that matter, into Hungary, or sending them by submarine.”

  “I can fly the B-25,” Fine said.

  “No,” Bruce said. “You’re the control.”

  “Doug Douglass can fly the B-25,” Charity said.

  Bruce looked at her.

  “He’s not . . . assigned to us,” he said.

  “Can’t that be arranged?” Charity asked. “TDY or something?”

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Fine said. “The first decision that has to be made is about the team. Do we send in a Tito team?”

  Charity looked at Colonel Stevens.

  “No,” Stevens said flatly.

  “What’s the difference?” Helene Dancy asked.

  “For the men, none,” Stevens said. “But we will not send an officer on this who has been selected to go in to Tito.”

  “May I ask why, Sir?” Fine asked.

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Stan,” Stevens said.

  Fine looked curious, but shrugged.

  “It looks as though we’re back to János,” he said. “And to flying him in rather than jumping him in, because of his ankle. And since I can’t fly the B-25, we’re also back to Douglass. May I ask that you reconsider, Sir, my flying the B-25?”

  “Out of the question,” Bruce said.

  “And we’re not even sure of János,” Stevens said. “Helene, get the medical officer at Whitbey House on the horn and get a report on János’s ankle. Specifically, what shape he will be in when they take the cast off, and for how long.”

  “While she’s doing that,” Fine said, “what about transport of the team from here to Cairo? If they’re going to Cairo?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Stevens asked.

  “I thought
perhaps Malta,” Fine said.

  “Oh,” Stevens said.

  “We’ll send them to Cairo,” Bruce said. “They’ll attract less attention there. And we’ll send them on the ATC courier. There’s a daily flight. If we send one man a day, starting right now, they should attract no attention at all. Wilkins is good at distracting attention.”

  “Mr. Bruce,” Fine said, almost hesitantly. “I’m afraid that you will think I’m rephrasing a request that has already been denied—”

  “What, Fine?” Bruce asked impatiently.

  “Project Aphrodite has two new B-17s,” Fine said.

  “One of which you would like to fly to Cairo?” Bruce asked, icily sarcastic.

  “May I explain my thinking, Sir?”

  “No,” Bruce said.

  “I would like to hear it,” Charity said.

  Bruce glared at her and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, there was a knock at the door, and instead of saying what he’d intended, Bruce said, his voice angry and impatient:

  “We are not to be disturbed!”

  “Operational Immediate Eyes Only for you, Sir,” Capt. Harrison’s voice came through the door.

  “Oh, hell,” Bruce said, “now what?” He raised his voice. “Bring it in, Harrison!”

  Harrison came into the room, extended a clipboard with a Receipt for Classified Document on it, and, when Bruce had signed it, handed him a document with a TOP SECRET cover sheet on it.

  “Thank you,” Bruce said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Paul.”

  “No problem, Sir,” Harrison said. He made no move to leave.

  “That’ll be all, thank you,” Bruce said.

  “An action is required, Sir,” Harrison said.

  Bruce snorted, and lifted the cover sheet.

  TOP SECRET

  OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE

  OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR OSS WASHINGTON

  FOR OSS LONDON EYES ONLY BRUCE STEVENS

  FOR OSS CAIRO EYES ONLY WILKINS

  RELAY FOLLOWING CANIDY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS:

  QUOTE

  OSS LONDON AND CAIRO DIRECTED AS HIGHEST PRIORITY TO SUPPORT WITH ALL MEANS AVAILABLE ATTEMPT FREE EXLAX AND TINCAN ONE.

  RESCUE WILL BE ATTEMPTED AT EARLIEST POSSIBLE TIME AND IN ANY CASE NOT LATER THAN TEN REPEAT TEN DAYS FROM RECEIPT OF THIS MESSAGE.

  IN EVENT ATTEMPT IMPOSSIBLE OR ATTEMPT FAILS EXLAX AND TINCAN ONE WILL BE TERMINATED REPEAT WILL BE TERMINATED.

  NO DISCUSSION OF THIS ORDER WILL BE ENTERTAINED.

  UNQUOTE

  END QUOTE

  STATION CHIEFS LONDON AND CAIRO WILL ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT AND COMPREHENSION OF CANIDY MESSAGE.

  STATION CHIEF CAIRO ADDITIONALLY WILL REPORT TIME AND PLACE OF DELIVERY OF MESSAGE TO CANIDY WITH INFO COPY TO LONDON.

  DONOVAN

  Bruce handed the message to Colonel Stevens, and then looked at Capt. Harrison.

  “Would you please message Colonel Donovan that Colonel Stevens and myself acknowledge receipt and comprehension of this message?” he said, almost formally.

  “Yes, Sir,” Harrison said.

  “My God!” Stevens said, when he had read the message. He extended it to Bruce. “May I see that, please?” Charity Hoche asked.

  “Oh,” Stevens said, as if he had just remembered she was present. “Sure.”

  When she had read it, she handed it to Fine. He frowned when he read it, but said nothing.

  “You were saying, Stan,” Charity said, “something about new B-17s?”

  XI

  1

  OSS WHITBEY HOUSE STATION KENT, ENGLAND 1815 HOURS 17 FEBRUARY 1943

  First Lieutenant Robert Jamison found First Lieutenant Ferenc János where he thought he would be at this time of day, in the bar, at the piano, with a drink adding yet another scar to the varnished finish of the piano, and with two of the WRAC drivers listening to him play.

  “Freddy, could I see you for a moment?” Jamison asked.

  “Ladies,” Freddy János said, “duty calls.”

  “Not here, János,” Jamison said.

  János’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, but he didn’t say anything. He hoisted himself from the piano stool with a grunt, reached for his drink, finished it, and then squatted on his one good leg to pick up his crutches from the floor.

  He followed Jamison down the center corridor of the first floor of the left wing of the mansion to the dispensary, which had been set up in what had been the ballroom. There were sixteen beds, eight on each side of the high-ceilinged room. Eleven of them were occupied.

  At the far end of the ballroom was a small, flat-roofed “building,” roughly framed in with exposed two-by-fours and plywood. It held a simple, if surprisingly complete, operating room, an X-ray room, a pharmacy, two examining cubicles, a dentist’s chair and equipment, and an office for the two physicians attached to Whitbey House station.

  Both of them, and a nurse, were waiting for Jamison and János.

  “What’s going on?” János asked when he saw where Jamison had led him.

  “First things first,” Jamison said. “We want an X-ray of your ankle.”

  “I will repeat, Lieutenant Jamison,” one of the doctors, a captain, said, “that I don’t like this.”

  “Whether or not you approved didn’t come up, Doctor,” Jamison said, “when the Colonel said to do it.”

  The doctor gave him a cold look.

  The nurse took János into the X-ray room, motioned for him to hop on the table, and then took his crutches and leaned them on the wall. She wordlessly arranged his leg on the table under the X-ray apparatus, then stepped behind a crudely built, raw-lumber six-foot wall.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered, and there was a whirring sound from the X-ray apparatus. She made six X-rays before she was finished, then issued another order: “You’d better stay there until I get these out of the soup.”

  The two doctors and Jamison came into the room.

  “What’s going on?” János asked from the X-ray table.

  “We want to see if we can take your cast off safely,” Jamison said.

  “Why?”

  “If we can, I’ll tell you,” Jamison said.

  János, who had been lying down, sat up on the table and let his legs hang over the side.

  The nurse returned with still damp eleven-by-fourteen-inch X-ray photographs, put three (all it would handle) on a viewer, and turned it on.

  The two doctors examined the X rays and then replaced them on the viewer with the other three.

  The captain turned to Jamison.

  “It appears to have healed and knitted satisfactorily,” he said.

  “The question, Doctor,” Jamison said, “is, in your professional medical opinion, can the cast be safely removed? ”

  “There’s a difference, Jamison, between taking it off and declaring this officer fit for duty.”

  “Can it be safely removed?” Jamison replied. “If so, please remove it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” the other doctor, a lieutenant, said disgustedly.

  “Would you get me the cutter, Nurse?” the captain asked.

  János didn’t like what he saw when the cast was removed. The skin beneath, where it was not marked with angry red marks, was unhealthily white, and although he couldn’t be sure without actually comparing it side-by-side with his good ankle, it looked to him to be much thinner.

  Both doctors manipulated the ankle and the foot. There was no pain, but it was uncomfortable.

  “Well?” Jamison asked.

  “The fractures,” the captain said, “seem to have knitted satisfactorily. There is no pain or impediment of movement that I can detect.”

  “He can walk, in other words?” Jamison asked.

  “Before he can be determined to be physically fit for duty,” the captain said, “he will require therapy. Do you concur, Doctor?”

  “Jamison,” the younger doctor said, “there is muscle atrophy—”

  “What kind of therapy?” Jamison ask
ed.

  “Walking, actually,” the captain said. “Short walks, gradually extended. Manipulation of the foot and ankle to restore movement.”

  “That’ll be all, János,” Jamison said. “Thank you.”

  “You said you would tell me,” János protested.

  "You’re being considered for an operation,” Jamison said.

  “When and if it is decided you’re going, you’ll be told about it.”

  “When will that decision be made?”

  “Tomorrow morning, probably,” Jamison said. “Do you think you can manage without your crutches?”

  “I don’t know,” János said.

  “Give it a try,” Jamison said. “If you can, leave the crutches here. If you go back to the bar, go easy on the booze. I don’t want you falling down and breaking it again.”

  The lieutenant, shaking his head, chuckled.

  The captain said, “Jamison, I might as well tell you, the moment Major Canidy returns, I’m going to protest this.”

  “Captain,” Jamison said, “all I’m doing is obeying my orders. That’s what you do when you put a uniform on, obey orders.”

  He turned and walked out of the room.

  The captain called after him. “Jamison, in my capacity as the senior medical officer present, I absolutely forbid this officer to participate in a parachute jump.”

  “Your position has been noted, Doctor,” Jamison called, over his shoulder.

  János got off the X-ray table and gingerly lowered his bare, sick, white foot to the floor.

  “Any pain?” the captain asked.

  “No,” János said.

  “Fuck him,” the captain said, “You use the crutches, János. You start using that leg carefully. I’ll deal with Jamison. ”

  János hoisted himself back onto the X-ray table and removed his other shoe and sock.

  “With the shoe off,” János said, “I think I can manage.”

  He lowered himself to the floor again, and then, awkwardly and carefully, walked very slowly out of the X-ray room.

  2

  OSS WHITBEY HOUSE STATION KENT, ENGLAND 0600 HOURS 18 FEBRUARY 1943

  First Lieutenant Ferenc János marched into the office of the commanding officer, came to attention, and saluted. He was wearing a wool OD (olive drab) Ike jacket and trousers. Parachutist’s wings were on the jacket, and his trousers were bloused over glistening Corcoran jump boots. His woolen “overseas” cap was tucked in an epaulet of his jacket.