Colonel?” Baker asked.
“Physically—and so far as I am concerned mentally—there is nothing wrong with Captain Whittaker,” the hospital commander said. “He was a mess when they brought him here, but once we got rid of his parasites and got some food into him, he came right around.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Baker said.
“I’ve been told to ask you no questions, and as a soldier I’ll obey my orders. But I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like a hospital ward being used as a prison,” the hospital commander said. “I don’t think it’s either ethical or legal.”
Good for you, Colonel! Canidy thought.
“Wouldn’t you say, Colonel,” Baker said coldly, “that the Attorney General would be the best judge of that?”
The colonel did not back down.
“The Supreme Court, perhaps,” he said. “I’m not sure about the Attorney General.”
Canidy chuckled, and Baker glared at him.
The MP unlocked the door to a room, then held it open for Canidy, Baker, and the hospital commander.
“Captain Whittaker,” the doctor said. “These gentlemen have been sent from Washington to see you.”
“I’ll be goddamned,” Whittaker said. He was in a red hospital bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. He had been reading Life magazine.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Baker said, “I’ll take it from here.”
The hospital commander left, closing the door after him, and almost immediately Canidy heard the lock being snapped shut.
Whittaker looked suspiciously at Canidy but got out of his chair and offered his hand.
“Hello, Jimmy,” Canidy said. “How the hell are you?” You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you. Not only physically. You must have put on forty pounds. And that nutty look in your eyes is gone.
“This is the prison ward,” Whittaker said. “Or the lunatic ward. Or the prison slash lunatic ward. How the hell do you think I am?”
“I hear you got rid of Clarence,” Canidy said.
“Yeah,” Whittaker said. “And he was a persistent bastard. It took about ten pounds of quinine to kill him. I was as yellow as a daisy for a while.”
“It must run in the family,” Canidy said. “Your aunt Barbara told me that Chesly had one in—somewhere in the Far East.”
“I’ve heard that story,” Whittaker said, and then he looked coldly at Eldon C. Baker. “Who’re you?” he asked.
“His name is Baker,” Canidy said. “Watch out for him. He’s a sonofabitch. But be nice to him. He has the power to get you out of here.”
“Uncle Franklin is no longer pissed?” Whittaker asked. “I am to be sprung from durance vile?”
“That’s up to you,” Canidy said. “Some people think you’re a bomb about to go off. Others think you may be useful to them. Once you hear why, you may want to stay in the loony bin.”
Whittaker looked at Baker curiously.
“Has Dick told you about Morocco, Captain Whittaker?” Baker asked.
“No,” Whittaker said simply.
“You know, Baker,” Canidy said. “Loose lips lose ships.”
“You are aware that he and I work for the Office of the Coordinator of Information?”
“Yes,” Whittaker said.
“Would you mind telling me what you know about the COI?”
Whittaker shrugged. “It’s a hush-hush outfit run by Bill Donovan,” he said. “It’s probably involved in very strange things, like espionage. Who knows what else?”
“Dick tell you that?” Baker asked.
“If he had, I wouldn’t tell you and get him in trouble,” Whittaker said. “I got some of it from that captain, Douglass, and some of it from the President. The rest I put together myself, like Sherlock Holmes.”
Baker smiled. “Very good,” he said.
“You get two gold stars to take home to Mommy,” Canidy said.
Whittaker chuckled. Baker gave Canidy a dirty look.
“Why don’t we stop the bullshit?” Canidy said.
“Why don’t you?” Whittaker said.
“You first,” Canidy said. “Do you know what was in that letter from MacArthur to the President?”
“No,” Whittaker said. “I know it made General Marshall mad.”
“That’s one of the reasons you’re down here,” Canidy said. “They’re worried you’ll give the press the contents of the letter.”
“I have no idea what it said,” Whittaker said.
“And you’d take a polygraph, a lie-detector test, about that?” Baker asked.
Bull’s-eye! Canidy thought. I knew damned well they didn’t lock him in a loony bin for pissing off the general.
“It was that embarrassing, was it?” Whittaker asked. “Yeah, I’ll take a lie-detector test. Why not? Anything that’ll get me out of here.”
“The next question,” Canidy said, “is, would you be willing to stick your neck out, mission unspecified?”
“No,” Whittaker said after a split second’s hesitation. “I don’t think I would.”
“Your move, Baker,” Canidy said. “He just proved he’s sane.”
“You’ve had