read the titles of the Secret documents and scanned through the half dozen he had not seen before. Finally, he turned to the Confidential titles and saw nothing of interest except the regular of-possible -interest memorandum, which Ellis thought of as the “What-the-Hell-Is-This? List.”
This was a compilation of intelligence data that didn’t fit into any of the established categories. A report that the Germans had bought a ferryboat in Spain, for example. Or that the Italian Gendarmerie had lost another battle against the Mafia in Sicily. It had come to someone’s attention in one of the intelligence agencies. He hadn’t known what to do with it, but maybe somebody else could make something of it. When that happened, it was circulated on the of-possible-interest memorandum.
Ellis read it faithfully. And his eyebrows went up when he came to item six:
1:6. The Presidio of San Francisco has received from Mare Island Communications Facility an encrypted message transmitted by an unknown station operating in the 20-meter band. The message was encrypted using an apparently captured M94 encryption device.
The message was addressed to “U.S. Forces in Australia.”
The decrypted message follows: We Have the Hot Poop from the Hot Yanks in the Phils. Fertig Brig Gen
The station identified itself with the call letters MFS and reported itself standing by.
Comment: There is no station with call letters MFS. There is no General officer in the USA or USMC by the name of Fertig. This is therefore presumed to be a Japanese subterfuge. No attempt to contact the calling station has been made.
Chief Ellis called the office of the adjutant general in the Pentagon, where he ascertained that there was no confirmed report of the death of Lt. Colonel Wendell W. Fertig, or that he had been captured. His status was missing and presumed dead. He got the name and telephone number of Colonel Fertig’s next of kin, Mrs. Mary Fertig, his wife, in Golden, Colorado.
And then he took a red grease pencil and drew a box around Item 6 on the What-the-Hell-Is-This? List, tore that sheet from the file, and moved it to the top of the stack of Top Secret documents. Then he carefully scissored the clipping about the glorious victory of Japanese forces over Major General Fertig from the Mainichi and stapled that to the What-the-Hell-Is-This? List.
Twenty minutes later, Colonel William Donovan marched into the office, his face betraying that the morning session at the White House had been difficult.
“I would kill for a cup of coffee,” he greeted Ellis as he walked past his desk.
When Ellis carried the coffee into the office, Donovan was dangling the page torn from the What-the-Hell-Is-This? List between his thumb and forefinger.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“I think it’s interesting,” Ellis said.
“You want to try to call that station back?” Donovan asked.
Ellis nodded.
“Have it done,” Colonel Donovan ordered.
“Colonel, things get lost in proper channels,” Ellis said.
Donovan considered that a moment.
“Meaning you want to go out to California?”
“I could be back in three days,” Ellis said. “Before it got there through channels.”
“You have a gut feeling, Chief?” Donovan asked.
“Yes, Sir, you could put it that way.”
“Okay,” Donovan said.
Chief Ellis called the chief at Flight Operations at Anacostia Naval Air Station, on the other side of the District of Columbia.
“Hey, Chief, how they hanging? This is Chief Ellis.”
“How’s my favorite China Sailor? What are you trying to beat me out of today?”
“I need a seat for somebody very important on the next plane to Mare Island.”
“Is he self-important, or just very important?”
“Actually, he’s a pretty good guy.”
“Reason I ask is I got a half-dozen torpedo bombers being ferried from Baltimore to load on a carrier at Mare Island. If this guy’s not too ritzy to ride in a torpedo bomber . . .”
“From Anacostia or Baltimore?”
“Here. They’re picking up people here. That’s how I know about it.”
“When?”
“How soon can he get here?”
“He’s on his way.”
4
UNITED STATES NAVY BASE, MARE ISLAND SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA 12 JANUARY 1943
The radioman second had seen the base commander only once before, and then he had been riding by in his Navy gray Packard Clipper with its three-starred vice admiral’s plate.
And now here he was, in the radio room, looking right at him.
“Stand at ease, son,” the Admiral said, almost kindly. “This is Chief Ellis, and he wants to ask you some questions. ”
“You picked up a message from somebody calling themselves MFS, right?”
“That’s right, Chief.”
“You heard them again?”
“They’re on every day, for ten, sometimes twenty minutes, ” the radioman second said. “They were on,