the equipment bag contained, and what Chief Warrant Officer Delbert LeMoine, of the Army Security Agency, was doing with it. LeMoine was the Presidential cryptographer. Messages intended for the President that had come in since they left Hawaii had been forwarded to Wake Island. Wake Island, however, did not have the codes. The President would have to wait for his mail until LeMoine decrypted it.
The dignitaries aboard the Independence came down the stairs one by one and shook hands with MacArthur and the members of his staff he had brought with him from Tokyo. Pickering decided he was not an official member of the Truman party, and waited until the handshaking was over before he got off the Independence.
He gave Brigadier General Courtney Whitney a friendly wave. Whitney returned it with a nod and a strained smile.
Truman and MacArthur got in the backseat of a something less than Presidential—or MacArthurian—1949 Chevrolet staff car and drove off for a private meeting.
Then everyone else was loaded, without ceremony, into a convoy of cars and jeeps and driven to one of the single-story frame buildings lining the tarmac. Inside, a simple buffet of coffee and doughnuts had been laid out for them.
Pickering had just taken a bite of his second doughnut when another Army warrant officer touched his arm.
“Would you come with me, please, General?” he asked.
“Sure,” Pickering said. “What’s up?”
The warrant officer didn’t reply, but when Hart started to follow them, he said, “Just the general, Captain.”
The warrant officer led Pickering to a frame building— identical to the one where coffee and doughnuts were being served—a hundred yards away and held open the door for him.
There was an interior office, guarded by a sergeant armed with a Thompson submachine gun. He stepped out of the way as Pickering and the warrant officer approached, and then the warrant officer knocked at the door. A moment later LeMoine unlocked the door, opened it, and motioned Pickering inside.
Then he closed and locked the door and turned to Pickering with a smile.
“We have a mutual friend, General,” he said.
“Who’s that?”
“Master Sergeant Paul Keller,” LeMoine said. “He worked for me when we were in Moscow.”
“Good man,” Pickering said.
“He says much the same about you, General,” LeMoine said. “And he has the same kind of problems I do, wondering who gets to see what and when.”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Pickering said.
“Why don’t you have a chair, General?” LeMoine said. “I’ve got to take a leak, and I’ll see if I can’t get us some coffee.”
He pulled a chair on wheels away from a table, waited until Pickering sat down, then walked to the door, unlocked it, walked through it, and then closed and locked it.
There was one sheet of paper on the table.
Pickering wondered why LeMoine had left it on display.
A man like that does not make mistakes. Christ, whatever it is, he wants me to see it!
Pickering picked it up and read it.
TOP SECRET—PRESIDENTIAL
WASHINGTON 2215 14OCT1950
FROM DIRECTOR CIA
TO (EYES ONLY) THE PRESIDENT OF THE
UNITED STATES
FOLLOWING RECEIVED 2207 14OCT1950 FROM MAJOR K R MCCOY USMCR
MESSAGE BEGINS
MAJOR MALCOLM S. PICKERING USMCR RETURNED TO US CONTROL 1200 14OCT1950. TRANSPORTED USS BADOENG STRAIT AS OF 1300 14OCT1950.
SUBJECT OFFICER IS DIRTY, UNSHAVEN, AND VERY HUNGRY, BUT IS UNWOUNDED, UNINJURED, AND IN SOUND PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITION.
FOLLOWING CIVILIAN PERSONNEL SHOULD BE CONTACTED BY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS, ASKED NOT TO DISSEMINATE INFORMATION ABOVE TO OTHERS AND ON AGREEMENT BE
NOTIFIED OF SUBJECT OFFICER’S RETURN AND CONDITION.
MRS FLEMING PICKERING C/O FOSTER HOTELS SAN FRANCISCO CAL MRS K.R. MCCOY, TOKYO, JAPAN
MISS JEANETTE PRIESTLY C/O PRESS RELATIONS OFFICER, SUPREME HEADQUARTERS UNITED NATIONS COMMAND, TOKYO
MCCOY MAJ USMCR
MESSAGE ENDS
IN PRESUMPTION YOU WILL INFORM GENERAL PICKERING I WILL NOT DO SO
W.B. SMITH
DIRECTOR
There was the sound of the door being unlocked.
Fleming Pickering swallowed hard and stood up, but did not turn around for a moment, until he felt he had his voice and himself under control.
“Ready for some coffee, General?” LeMoine asked.
“Thank you,” Pickering said.
LeMoine set a coffee mug on the table.
“A little sugar for your coffee, General?” LeMoine asked. He held a silver pocket flask over the cup.
"Can I do that myself?” Pickering asked.
LeMoine handed him the flask.
Pickering put it to his lips and took a healthy swig.
“Thank you,” he said after a moment.
“Have another. There’s more where that came from,” LeMoine said.
Pickering took another pull, then handed the flask to LeMoine.
“Thank you,” he said again.
“Oh, look what I did!” LeMoine said. He picked up the decrypted message. “I really should have put this in the envelope for the President.”