afternoon. The more you can tell him before we go to Wake Island, the better.”
“He’s going with you to Wake Island? That’s a good idea, Mr. President. I think he’ll mesh well with General MacArthur.”
“He’s not going to Wake Island, General, you are,” the President said. “And after that meeting, you’re going on to Tokyo, where you will implement the changes General Smith has ordered.”
“Do you know what he has in mind, sir?”
“No. And neither will he until you and he get together and decide what they’ll be.” He paused long enough for that to sink in, then added: “But when those orders are issued, I’m sure General Smith will let it be known throughout the military establishment that they came from him, and not some ‘amateur who finds himself in water over his head.’ I’m also sure that he will make it known that he was quite pleased that you agreed to stay on.”
“Because you told him that?”
“No. The ironic thing here is that he feels he is the amateur in deep water. He was really worried that you would want to leave.”
The President stood up and, when Pickering got to his feet, put out his hand. Truman looked as if was going to say something but changed his mind.
He nodded at Pickering, shook his hand, and walked to the door.
[TWO]
THE ARMY-NAVY CLUB WASHINGTON, D.C. 1215 11 OCTOBER 1950
General Walter Bedell Smith’s entire suite on the fourth floor of the Army-Navy Club would have fit, with room to spare, into Brigadier General Fleming Pickering’s sitting room in the Foster Lafayette.
Smith, who was wearing a dark gray suit, a crisp white shirt, and a red-striped necktie, opened the door to Pickering’s knock himself and put out his hand.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, General,” Smith said.
How the hell do I reply to that? “You’re welcome”? “My pleasure”? This chap is a four-star general who is about to become the Director of the CIA. People like that don’t have to thank underlings for coming quickly when summoned.
Smith looked at his watch.
“Fifteen minutes,” he said, smiling. “That’s quick.”
“General, this is Captain Hart,” Pickering said. “If you have no objection, I’d like him to sit in on this. He has an uncanny ability to later recall who said what and to whom.”
“None whatever,” Smith said, and offered Hart his hand. “I suppose that ‘uncanny ability’ was useful to you as a policeman. Or is that an acquired skill?”
Jesus, he knows all about George.
“I think I got it from my father, sir,” Hart said. “He was a cop, too.”
“Have you had lunch?” Smith asked.
“No, sir,” Pickering said.
“Well, we could go downstairs, but if we ordered a sandwich here—they do a very nice open-faced roast beef, and a chicken club—we could talk while we eat. Your call.”
“An open-faced roast beef sandwich sounds fine to me, General,” Pickering said.
“Captain?”
“Roast beef’s fine with me, sir.”
Smith went to the telephone and ordered the sandwiches and “a very large pot of coffee.” Then he turned to Pickering. “To get to the starting line, the President will have a press conference at five o’clock, at which he will announce my appointment as Director of the CIA. I will have to be there, so we have until, say, half past four. That should be enough time, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir,” Pickering said.
Smith took an envelope from his jacket pocket and extended it to Pickering.
“The President sent this over,” Smith said. “I understand you’ve seen it.”
Pickering opened the envelope. It held the message from General Howe that Truman had shown him earlier.
“Yes, sir, I have,” Pickering said.
“Have you?” Smith asked of Hart.
“No, sir.”
“I told George what I thought he should know, sir,” Pickering said.
“I think it would be useful if you saw the whole thing,” Smith said.
Pickering handed Hart the envelope.
“Before the waiter gets here, General,” Smith said, “I’d like your opinion of why this war came as a complete surprise not only to General MacArthur but to the CIA as well.”
Christ, he goes right for the jugular!
Screw it. When you don’t know what to say, try telling the truth.
“When the intelligence gathered by some of Mac-Arthur’s intelligence people went against the intelligence conclusions of MacArthur’s G-2, it was buried,” Pickering said.
“Okay. That explains MacArthur’s surprise. But why did the CIA fail so completely?”
“The CIA Tokyo station chief regarded himself as a member of MacArthur’s staff,” Pickering said. “And was not about to disagree with the conclusions of General Willoughby, as endorsed by General MacArthur.”