Major Canidy had regaled you with tales of my exploits on Bataan.”
“I’m well aware that you were decorated for valor, Captain Whittaker,” Baker said condescendingly.
“I didn’t get any medals for what I did,” Whittaker said. “You could call my medals political medals. It pleased the people who gave them to me. It had nothing to do with what I did.”
“What exactly did you do?” Baker asked.
“I blew a lot of things up,” Whittaker said. “Sometimes after the Japs had captured them. I’m awfully good at explosions.”
“Really?”
“That meant we had to take out sentries,” Whittaker said conversationally.
“Indeed?” Baker said impatiently.
The next thing Baker knew, he was on the floor. Whittaker’s knee against his back held him immobile. Whittaker’s left hand was on his chin, twisting his neck so that it was exposed. Whittaker drew the index finger of his right hand across Baker’s Adam’s apple.
“I don’t think,” Whittaker said, still conversationally, “that I would have to cut that kid’s throat to get his gun. All I would have to do is say ‘Boo!’”
“Let him up, Jimmy,” Canidy said, laughing. “I think you’ve made your point.”
Baker rose awkwardly to his feet and straightened his clothing. Then he surprised Canidy.
“You’re very good,” Baker said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that fast.”
That surprised Whittaker, too, and seemed to embarrass him.
“You figured out how to handle Fulmar?” Whittaker asked. “Or are you open to suggestion?”
“Let’s hear it,” Canidy said quickly.
“If you go in there and give him the business about volunteering, he’s going to tell you to go fuck yourselves.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Take him someplace now, without conditions. Maybe the house on Q Street, or better, Summer Place. Dangle the carrot in front of his nose. Sugar catches more flies than vinegar. Right now you’ve got him trapped in a corner. Even Pekingese dogs will fight when you get them in a corner.”
“I’m not sure I’m authorized to do that, give him his freedom without conditions,” Baker said uncomfortably. But Canidy saw that he had not rejected Whittaker’s reasoning out of hand.
“And you stay the hell out of sight,” Whittaker said. “He really hates you. Let Canidy go in there and tell him he’s been sent to get us out of here.”
“Would he believe that?” Baker asked.
“Why not? The last time he saw Canidy was after they’d both been left behind in Morocco. And he would probably take his cue from me.”
“And what if he tries to escape?”
“Canidy and I can handle him until we get where we’re going,” Whittaker said.
“I’ll have to have permission,” Baker said.
“No,” Canidy said. “If you ask for permission, Douglass is going to say no. You get on the telephone after we’re airborne and call Washington, and tell them we’re on the way. Whittaker’s right, and you know he is. Your coming here was stupid.”
Baker thought that over for a moment, then walked to the door and knocked. When the MP opened it, he asked him to fetch the provost marshal. When the provost marshal came, Baker told him that he was serving the court order which directed that Whittaker and Fulmar be placed in his custody.
He handed a copy of the court order to the provost marshal.
“You have been served, Sir,” Baker said, formally. “Before two witnesses.”
The provost marshal read the court order and then put it in a pocket of his tunic.
“Would you have Captain Whittaker’s uniforms brought here, please?” Canidy said.
“I won’t be going with them,” Baker said. “Can you provide transportation for me to post headquarters? And Major Canidy and the two gentlemen will require transportation to Godman Field.”
“Yes, Sir,” the provost marshal said. “I’ll telephone for another car.”
Baker turned and spoke to Canidy.
“Unless you hear to the contrary while you’re en route,” he said, “go to Lakehurst. I’ll have someone meet your plane.”
“Jesus Christ!” Eric Fulmar said when Dick Canidy and Jim Whittaker walked into his room. “What the hell is all this?”
“Mr. Fulmar, Major Canidy,” Whittaker said. “Otherwise known as the knight in shining armor riding up on his white horse to rescue Prince Charming—the Princes, plural, Charming—from the evil king’s dungeon.”
“No shit?”
“Let’s go, Eric,” Canidy said. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Do you really care?”
“I don’t know where my clothes are,” Fulmar said.
Before going for Fulmar, Whittaker had suggested that keeping Fulmar in his pajamas and bathrobe—people in bathrobes are less prone to try something foolish, like running away—might be a very good idea.
“We don’t have time for that now,” Canidy said.
“Jimmy’s got his clothes,” Fulmar challenged. “His uniform.”