arrangement of straps and web belting from which hung canteens and pouches for first-aid kits, spare magazines for their .45 Colt pistols, compasses, and leather holsters for the pistols. The second lieutenant had a Thompson submachine gun dangling from his shoulder, and at his feet was a stuffed canvas Val-Pak.
“Major Canidy, Sir?” the paratroop captain asked, saluting crisply and holding it until Canidy made a vague gesture in the general direction of his forehead.
“I’m Canidy,” Canidy said.
“I have a classified message for you, Sir,” the captain said, “if you’ll be good enough to show me your AGO9 card.”
Canidy found the card and passed it to him, and the captain said, “Thank you, Sir,” and handed him an envelope. Canidy tore it open and read it.
SECRET
PRIORITY
WAR DEPT WASH DC
COMMGEN FT BRAGG NC
DELIVER FOLLOWING MESSAGE MAJ R CANIDY USAAC EN ROUTE POPE FIELD ABOARD USN C-45 AIRCRAFT TAIL NO SIX ONE ONE QUOTE PROCEED ANACOSTIA SIGNED CHENOWITH END QUOTE ADVISE DELIVERY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS FOSTER BRIG GEN
SECRET
Canidy chuckled. That explained all the in-flight advisories. Cynthia Chenowith was delightedly wallowing in her role as spymaster.
“I am under instructions to deliver this officer into your custody, Major,” the captain said.
“Who are you?” Canidy asked the young second lieutenant.
“Martin, Sir, Second Lieutenant Holdsworth C., the Third.”
The Disciple’s son.
“Would you please sign for Lieutenant Martin, Sir?” the captain said, and extended a clipboard and a pen. Canidy scrawled his name and handed it back.
“Would you be good enough to fill in the date-time block?” the captain said, giving it back to him. Canidy did so.
“Thank you, Sir,” the captain said crisply. “Now, Sir, is there anything else you require before your departure?”
“I’ve got to put gas in the bird, and I would like to take a leak,” Canidy said.
“Refueling has been arranged, Sir,” the captain said. “The truck should be here directly. There is a latrine in base operations, Sir. Lieutenant Martin has visited the latrine. If you would like, Sir, he can secure your aircraft while you are gone, Sir.”
Whittaker jumped out of the airplane. He was hatless, his necktie was pulled down, and his tunic was open. The paratroop captain looked at him with a mixture of shock and outrage. Whittaker promptly made it worse.
“And who are these two ferocious warriors?” he asked.
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Canidy said. “I’m going to take a leak. If you want to come with me, button your tunic, pull up your tie, and put your hat on.”
“Yes, Sir, Major, Sir,” Whittaker said. “I’m sorry to have embarrassed you, Sir.”
“Lieutenant,” Canidy said to Martin, “under no circumstances is our passenger to leave the aircraft.”
“Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Martin said. Then, having taken a look at Fulmar, who was staring out the door, he went on in some embarrassment, “Sir, I feel I should tell the major I know this . . .” He searched for a proper word and finally came up with “. . . individual.”
“Fine,” Canidy said. “Then you two will have a chance for a little chat while Captain Whittaker and I are taking our leak.”
“Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Martin said militarily.
The captain was gone when they returned to the plane, and the fueling crew had topped off the tanks. Canidy made the preflight, then motioned for Second Lieutenant Holdsworth Martin III to get aboard.
“Sir, may I inquire as to my destination?”
He had an accent. But not much, considering that Martin had been born in France, had a French mother, and had come to the United States for the first time just over two years before.
“I’m not sure if I have the authority to divulge that highly classified information,” Canidy said. “But, once we get in the air, if you’ve got a Class A uniform in your Val-Pak, you’d better change into it and hide that tommy gun someplace, or you’re going to scare hell out of a bunch of bureaucrats.”
“I was told to prepare myself for immediate overseas shipment, Sir,” Martin said.
“I don’t know anything about that, Lieutenant,” Canidy said. “But where you’re probably going to spend the night is on the New Jersey seashore.”
Second Lieutenant C. Holdsworth Martin III seemed more disappointed than surprised.
4
ANACOSTIA NAVAL AIR STATION
WASHINGTON, D.C.
0005 HOURS
JUNE 30, 1942
“Anacostia clears Navy Six-one-one to land on runway three-one,” the tower said. “The winds are negligible, the altimeter is three-niner-niner-eight.”
“Understand three-one,” Canidy replied.
“You’ve got it,” Jim Whittaker said, taking his hands off the wheel.
“You don’t think you can land it?” Canidy asked.
“What the hell, why not?” Whittaker replied, putting his hands back on the wheel and banking