about this, Lieutenant, ” Howe said, motioning for McCoy to drive on, “refer them to me.”
How the hell am I supposed to refer anybody to you if I don’t know who the hell you are?
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said.
If either General Howe or Major McCoy expected at least a word of gratitude from Miss Priestly for having rescued her from the military police, it was not forthcoming.
“Killer, goddamn you,” she said. “You promised to let me know what you found, you sonofa—”
McCoy snapped, “Shut up, Jeanette,” and then added, evenly: “One more word out of that sewer of a mouth of yours and I’ll drive you to the end of the runway and throw you out.”
“Oh, sh—” she began, and then fell silent.
Why do I suspect, General Howe thought, that at some time in the past McCoy has threatened her, then made good on the threat?
An MP was directing the parking of senior officers’ vehicles to the left of the base operations tents.
He saluted and had just started to say something to General Howe when a four-car convoy of olive-drab 1950 Chevrolet staff cars, preceded by an MP jeep, rolled up. The first car in line had a two-starred major general’s license plate on its bumper.
A tall, erect captain in starched fatigues jumped out and trotted around the car to open the rear passenger door.
Major General Edward M. Almond, commanding general of X U.S. Corps, got out. He was in fatigues, but wearing his general officer’s dress pistol belt2around his waist.
The tall captain said something to him, and Almond looked over at Howe and McCoy, then walked over to the Russian jeep. Howe and McCoy got out of the jeep. McCoy saluted crisply. Generals Howe and Almond sort of waved their right hands at each other.
“I’m glad you’re here, General Howe,” Almond said. “I know that’s important to the Supreme Commander.”
“Good morning, General,” Howe said.
Almond looked at the backseat of the jeep.
“Good morning, Miss Priestly.”
“Good morning, sir,” Jeanette said with a warm smile, and very politely.
“McCoy,” Almond said.
“Good morning, sir.”
“I’ve been informed General Pickering is on the Bataan,” Almond said. “Have you got some good news for him?”
“Not good news, but not bad news, either, sir.”
Almond looked at his wristwatch.
“I’ve also been informed the Supreme Commander’s ETA is 0950,” he went on. “So we have some time. Have you got a few minutes for me, General?”
“Of course,” Howe said. “McCoy, why don’t you take Miss Priestly aside and tell her what you know about Major Pickering?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did you get the Russian jeep, McCoy?” Almond asked.
Howe answered for him: “He took it away from a North Korean colonel.”
Almond leaned over the vehicle and inspected the interior.
“Interesting,” he said, then turned to the tall captain.
“Al, why don’t you set up the convoy,” he said, “while General Howe and I ride over to the other side of the field.”
He gestured for Howe to go to his staff car.
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied.
Howe turned to Jeanette Priestly.
“You are going to behave, right, Jeanette?”
“Yes, sir,” she said docilely.
Howe walked to Almond’s staff car.
They went through a little “After you, Alfonse.” / “No, after you, Gaston” routine dance at the door, but eventually Almond got in first, Howe slid in behind him, the tall captain closed the door, and the car, preceded by an MP jeep, drove off across the airfield.
“Interesting woman,” Almond said. “What’s she doing with you?”
“She’s . . . romantically involved . . . with young Pickering, and she knows McCoy’s been looking for him.”
“Without success, apparently.” Almond said. It wasn’t a question.
“He thinks he missed him yesterday by no more than a couple of hours,” Howe said.
“That’s a really awkward situation, isn’t it? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I asked McCoy. He says he has everything he needs.”
Almond grunted.
“Where are we going?” Howe asked. “May I ask?”
“As I understand it, General, you can ask anyone anything you want to,” Almond said, chuckling. “We’re going to look at something my Army Aviation officer enthusiastically assures me will ‘usher in a new era of battlefield mobility.’ ”
“The secret helicopters?” Howe asked.
“You do hear things, don’t you, General?” Almond said. “Yeah, the secret helicopters.”
“And are they going to ‘usher in a new era of battlefield mobility’?” Howe asked.
“Not today or tomorrow, I don’t think,” Almond said. “Eventually, possibly, maybe even probably. Between us?”
“That puts me on a spot, General. I’m supposed to report everything I think will interest my boss.”
“So you are. Well, what the hell, you’ve been around, you’ll see this