"You didn't really want to go back to flying Gooney Birds, did you?"
[TWO]
There is a three-hour time difference between Cairo and London. The message transmitted from the pool house of the villa in Cairo at 1405 Cairo time was acknowledged by London at 1110 London time. The second acknowledgment (confirming satisfactory decryption in London) was sent to Cairo at 1124, London time, and the second acknowledgment of Dolan's message at 1141, London time.
Both encrypted messages had come out of the encryption/decryption device in Berkeley Square in the form of punched tape. It was necessary to feed the punched tape into another machine (a converted teletype machine), which then typed out a copy on paper. The messages were next entered in the Classified Documents Log, and finally they were put, separately, inside two cover sheets. The outer was the standard Top Secret cover sheet, and the inner one was stamped with both top secret and eyes only bruce and stevens.
It was by then 1158.
Rank hath its privileges, and the privilege the senior cryptographic officer of OSS London Station, twenty-six-year-old Captain Paul J. Harrison, Signal Corps, had claimed for himself was the day shift, 0800 to 1600. And just as soon as he could get the personnel section at SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force) off their ass to pin second lieutenants' bars on two of his sergeants, he intended to take no shift at all. But now, with his perfectly qualified sergeants barred from acting as cryptographic duty officer by a bullshit directive from David Bruce, he had the duty.
As was his custom with Eyes Onlys--the forty-page SOP for classified documents made no specific reference to who should physically carry messages-Capt. Harrison personally took both messages up from the cryptographic room in the subbasement to the Station Chief's office.
Capt. Helene Dancy told him that David Bruce had moments before left the building. He was to have lunch with Lieutenant General Walter Bedell Smith, General Dwight D. Eisenhower's deputy at SHAEE "Beetle" Smith and David Bruce were friends as well as professional associates. Knowing this, in dealing with the OSS.
"Where's the Colonel?" the cryptographic officer asked.
"Whithey House," Helene Dancy replied.
"What have you got?"
"An Eyes Only Operational Immediate.. two of them ,.. for Bruce and the Colonel. From Canidy and Dolan."
The SOP was very clear on the handling of Operational Immediate messages:
16. [b]. Operational immediate messages will be immediately delivered to the addressee, or in his absence," to the senior officer present possessing the appropriate security clearance. In no circumstances will a delay of more than ten [101 minutes between decryption and delivery"," be tolerated.
"Can I see it?" Helene Dancy asked.
"You're not next on the list," Captain Harrison said reluctantly, obviously uncomfortable.
"That's right," she said, just a little tartly. She picked up her telephone.
"Sergeant, do you know where Captain Fine is?" she asked a moment later, and then, when there had been a reply: "Send someone for him, please. Get him back here as soon as you can."
"Well, who's next on the list after Fine?" Harrison asked.
"Oddly enough, I am," Capt. Dancy said, a little ice in her voice. She put out her hand for the documents.
"Hey, Dancy," Capt. Harrison said as he handed them to her.
"I don't make the rules. I just try to obey them."
"I know," Helene Dancy said.
"Damn, why does everybody have to be gone at once?" And then she quickly glanced at the first message: Canidy's.
"Oh, Christ! "she said.
"My thought exactly," Capt. Harrison said.
She nipped back the cover sheet on the second Eyes Only: Dolan's.
"I think you'd better get both of these off, Operational Immediate, to Washington, Eyes Only, Donovan and Douglass," Capt. Dancy said.
She saw the look on his face.
"Okay, I'll make it official. As the senior officer present, I order you to transmit these messages to Washington, Eyes Only, Donovan and Douglass."
iruce eat my ass out the last time I 'acted without thought and authority... '" "Well, I just took you off the hook for this time," she said.
"Yeah," Harrison said.
"Helene, I'm not asking you to make it official, but should I try to run down Bruce at SHAEF?"
"That would make a second copy necessary," she said.
"The sergeant major will get Fine in here in a couple of minutes."
The SOP was specific about that, too:
16. [ 1. In no case, except with the specific permission of the chief of station, or the deputy chief of station, will more than one [11 copy of an eyes only document be prepared. It is emphasized that addressees of eyes only documents, with the exception of the chief of station and deputy chief of station, are specifically forbidden to make copies of eyes only documents for their own files, or for any other purpose.
"What the hell," Capt. Harrison said.
"How mad can Bruce get?"
"Pretty mad," she said.
"I don't know, Paul."
"Is Bruce eating at the SHAEF general's mess?" Capt. Harrison asked, having made up his mind.
"He wasn't sure," Capt. Dancy said.
"When he can get Beetle Smith out of the building for an hour or so, he likes to butter him up at the Savoy Grill."
"And if I call either place to find out, no one will tell me," Harrison said.
"I
think I'll take a chance on the Savoy."
Five minutes later, after having made copies of the Eyes Only messages and ordered their transmission to Washington, Capt. Harrison went onto Berkeley Square to get into a Ford staff car. There he saw Capt. Stanley S. Fine getting out of a jeep driven by the sergeant major.
He waved at Fine, but said nothing to him about the Eyes Onlys, or about where he was going. If he told Fine, Fine might forbid him--he had the authority--to take copies of the Eyes Onlys to Bruce. More likely, once he'd explained the situation, Fine would also decide it was the thing to do, and to hell with Bruce's SOP. That would put him in the line of fire if Bruce didn't like the decision, and that wasn't necessary. Fine was a good guy.
The maitre d'hotel of the Savoy Grill blandly denied the presence of either It General Walter Bedell Smith or Mr. David Bruce. He smilingly announced he hadn't seen either of them in days.
Capt. Harrison looked around the large, elegantly appointed room and found what he was looking for. A major having a solitary lunch at the far end of the room. Behind the major was an ornately carved movable screen, so placed that it could conceal a table for two. And hanging from the epaulets of the major's green tunic was the golden rope of an aide-de-camp.
"Thank you very much," Harrison said to the maitre d'hotel. And then he ducked past the maitre d' and headed for the screen. The maitre d' scurried after him, but unless he broke into a run, Harrison knew he wouldn't catch up with him.
But Beetle Smith's aide-de-camp saw him and rose quickly to his feet, obviously intending to block his path. Harrison reached in his pocket and was enormously relieved to find his OSS credentials there. He was terrified of the consequences of losing them, and since he rarely had need of them, he usually kept them in the Top Secret safe.
He got them out of his pocket and held them up for General Smith's aide decamp to see.
"Just a moment," the aide-de-camp said.
"I'll tell Mr. Bruce you're here."
Harrison smiled and kept going.
David Bruce looked at him with surprise and annoyance.
The Chief of London Station and the Deputy Commander of SHAEF were lunching on small steaks, oven-browned potatoes, and asparagus. Harrison knew that the steaks and asparagus had come from OSS stocks. The usual fare at the Savoy Grill was broiled fish and Brussels sprouts. The Savoy was, how;
ever, happy to prepare whatever ingredients a guest might wish to send to its kitchen ahead of time. The price charged was the same as
if they had furnished the ingredients. ';
What that meant was that Bruce, as Helene Dancy had suggested, was but- j teeing up Beetle Smith by providing an unusually nice luncheon at the Savoy.
And that meant he was likely to be greatly annoyed to have the nice luncheon interrupted.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," Paul Harrison said.
"But I could see no other | choice." j He thrust a large manila envelope at him. ' "Captain Fine is not available?" Bruce asked, courteously enough. ) "He was sent for, Sir," Harrison said.
"He was out of the office." i "Oh, excuse me," Bruce said.
"Beetle, this is Captain Harrison. And this is| General Smith. Or do you know each other?"
Hell, yes, we're old pals. How the hell are you. Beetle?
"No, sir," Capt. Harrison said.
"How do you do, Sir?"
General Smith smiled, and offered a firm handshake.
"Captain," Smith said. ""Harrison," is it?"
Bruce tore the envelope open carefully, glanced inside, then took the Eyes Only documents from it.
"I'm happy to meet you, Captain," General Smith said.
Harrison could not think of a reply.
Dear Harriet, You'll never guess who I met at lunch at the Savoy Hotel.
Smith, naturally curious, turned his attention to David Bruce.
"Important, David?
"General Smith asked.
"Not particularly," Bruce said. And then he corrected himself.
"I don't mean to suggest that you should not have brought this to my attention here, Harrison.
That was the correct thing to do."
"You said that Captain Fine has been sent for?"
"I don't think there's any point in involving Captain Fine in this, Captain," Bruce said.
"What I think you should do is see that Washington gets a copy of this as quickly as you can. And then get in touch with Colonel Stevens and ask him to be in my office at four. A little earlier, if he can make it. And I think it might be a good idea if you were to ask him to bring Lieutenant Hoche with him."
It. Hoche, Capt. Harrison recalled, was the newly arrived, absolutely splendiferous blonde who was supposed to be Helene Dancy's man... woman... at What the hell has she got to do with this?
Bruce returned the documents to the envelope and handed it back to Harrison.
"Thank you, Captain," he said.
Harrison was wondering whether or not the Customs of the Service required him to salute a three-star general in a hotel dining room, when General Smith solved the problem.
He gave Harrison his hand.
"Pleasure to have met you, Captain," he said.
"I look forward to seeing you again."
"Yes, Sir," Harrison said.
"Thank you, Sir."
[THREE]
National Institutes of Health Building
Chief Boatswain's Mate J. R. Ellis, USN, pushed open the plate-glass door, marched into the lobby of the building, and crossed to the elevator, his metal tapped heels making a ringing noise on the marble floor.
He was almost at the elevator when a guard, whose nose had been in the sports section of the Washington Star, spotted him. The guard, in a blue, police type uniform, erupted from his chair.
"Hey!"
Ellis looked over his shoulder and saw the guard headed for him.
"Where do you think you're going?" the guard demanded as he caught up with Ellis and put his hand on Ellis's arm.
Ellis fished in his trousers pocket with his free hand and came up with an identity badge sealed in plastic and fitted with an alligator clip. He held it out for the guard to see. The card bore his photograph, diagonal red' anytime anyplace" stripes, his name, and in the Duty Assignment box, the words "Office of the Director."
The guard was satisfied with Ellis's bona fides, but not mollified.
"You're supposed to wear that badge, you know," he said.
"Sorry," Ellis said.
"I forgot."
Ellis got on the elevator and rode up.
When the second lobby guard returned from the men's room, the guard who had stopped Ellis was curious enough to ask him, "Who the hell is the sailor with the anytime, anyplace badge?"
"Navy chief? Big guy? Ruddy face?"
"That's him. He walked in here like he owned the place."
"He almost does," the second guard told him.
"That's Chief Ellis. Donovan's shadow. Nice guy. Just don't fuck with him. The best way to handle him is to remember the only people around here who tell him what to do are Colonel Donovan and Captain Douglass."
Upstairs, Ellis got off the elevator and walked down the marble-floored corridor to the Director's office.
"Good morning. Sir," he said to the slight, balding man in his late thirties sitting at Colonel Donovan's secretary's desk.
William R. Vole was in civilian clothes, but he was a chief warrant officer of the Army Security Agency, a cryptographer, on what had turned out to be o and wire communications nets to ensure that no classified information was being transmitted in such a manner that it would become available to the enemy It had also developed a capability, however, to intercept enemy radio transmissions and to break enemy codes.
There were eight such cryptographic experts assigned to the OSS in Washington and one of them was always available to the office of the Director.
They had become de facto duty officers in the Director's office, in addition to their cryptographic duties. It had been made official by Colonel Donovan, at Ellis's suggestion. Ellis had pointed out that their cryptographic duties had al ready made them privy to the contents of incoming and outgoing encrypted messages, so they would learn little they already didn't know by keeping the Director's office manned around the clock. And there were other ways they could make themselves useful in the Director's office.
"Chief," CWO Vole responded with a smile.
Vole liked Ellis, and felt a certain kinship with him as well. They both had long enlisted service before the war. And unlike many of his peers, he did not resent Ellis's authority to speak for Colonel Donovan, or Donovan's deputy, Captain Peter Douglass. He had been around the OSS long enough to see how Ellis used that authority, and he had never seen him abuse it.
And there was enough vestigial enlisted man in Chief Warrant Officer Vole to take some pleasure in the annoyance and discomfiture of a long line of brass hats who had tried and failed to pull rank on the salty old chief. Vole could not remember an incident where Ellis had not been backed up by Cap tain Douglass when some brass hat had complained to him about a decision of Ellis's, and he had several fond memories of incidents where some brass hat, having gotten no satisfaction from Captain Douglass, had gone over Douglass's head to Colonel Donovan.
The response then had been a furious, if brief, ass-chewing of the brass hat, done with the skill and finesse only a former infantry regimental commander as Donovan had been in the First War could hand out.
Ellis took off his brimmed cap and hung it atop a bentwood clothing rack.
Then he removed a white silk scarf and folded it very neatly and hung it on a wooden coat hanger. Finally, he took off his blue overcoat and hung that care fully on the hanger. Then he turned and looked at the ASA warrant officer.
"The Colonel's home," Chief Warrant Officer Vole reported.
"Staley's with him. The Captain's home. I sent Marmon with a car for him. He's going to the Pentagon and will be in about ten, maybe a little later."
Marmon was a former District policeman who served as combination chauffeur and bodyguard to Captain Peter Douglass.
"That's it?" Ellis asked.
"Mrs. Foster's going to be in late," Vole continued.
"She has a dental appointment, but says she can reschedule if you need her. Miss Haley, she says, can handle everything she knows about."
"Fine," Ellis said.
"And I just made a pot of coffee," the ASA warrant officer said.
"And can I use one!" Elli
s said.
"It's as cold as a witch's teat outside."
He went to the small closet where the coffeepot sat on an electric hot plate and poured a cup.
When he came out, the ASA warrant officer had taken the overnight messages from the safe and laid them out, together with the forms for the receipt of classified documents, on an oak table. Ellis sat down at the table.
W E B Griffin - Men at War 4 - The Fighting Agents Page 32
