The Secret Warriors - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,74

said. “But I did want to meet you and shake your hand, Major Douglass. That was an incredible bit of flying you did when you picked Ed up.”

With genuine modesty, Douglass downplayed what he had done, but there was no question in anyone’s mind, least of all Sarah’s, that Doug Douglass was a storybook hero.

There were drinks. Then, without asking, Sarah called room service and ordered shrimp salads—it was too hot to eat anything else—and the women watched while Douglass and Ed, using hand movements, explained the fine points of attacking a Japanese bomber formation in diving sweeps to the admiral.

It was nearly two-thirty before the admiral left. Ann decided it was time then to again bring up Dick Canidy—before Douglass and Ed Bitter had more to drink.

Douglass settled himself comfortably on one of a pair of couches facing a low table that was in front of the fireplace. After Charity had brought him another drink and Ann the telephone, he consulted a small pocket notebook for the number and dialed it.

Ann moved close so that she could hear both ends of the conversation.

“Liberty 6-4133,” a male voice said.

“Captain Peter Douglass, please,” Douglass said.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Major Peter Douglass, Jr.,” Doug said.

“Oh, sure, just a moment, Major, I’ll ring.”

“Captain Douglass’s office,” a female voice said.

“This is Major Douglass. May I speak with my father, please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Major, he’s in conference. I could interrupt, but it would be better if you could call back in an hour.”

Damn! Ann thought. In an hour he’s either going to be drunk, or else in a closet somewhere with Charity, or both.

“Miss Chenowith in there with him?”

“No, she’s not.”

“Could you switch me to her?”

There were some clicking noises, and then another female voice came on the line.

“Twenty-eight,” she said.

“Cynthia, this is Doug Douglass.”

“Well, we’ve been expecting you, Major. How was the flight? I guess you need a ride. Where are you?”

“The flight was fine, thank you,” he said. “But what I need is Dick Canidy’s phone number. My dad’s holding yet another conference and won’t be free for an hour.”

“He’s not here,” Cynthia Chenowith said.

“Where is he?”

There was a perceptible hesitation before she replied.

“Actually, he’s in New Jersey.”

“Will you give me the number, please?”

There was a longer hesitation before she finally gave him the number. “When the switchboard answers, Major,” she continued, “you ask if this is the Foster residence. Got that? Foster. Otherwise, they won’t put you through.”

“Foster residence,” Douglass parroted. “Got it. Tell my father I’ll catch up with him later.”

“I will,” she said.

Douglass broke the connection with his finger, then gave the operator the number Cynthia had given him.

“Asbury 4-9301,” a male voice answered.

“Is this the Foster residence?”

“Yes, it is,” the male voice replied.

“Can I get Dick Canidy on this?”

“I’ll ring the major for you,” the man said.

Canidy came on the line, answering with his name.

“Early Bird Leader, this is Early Bird One,” Douglass said.

“Early Bird” had been their plane-to-plane call sign in China.

Canidy laughed happily.

“You bastard, where are you?”

“I am sitting here with Commander Bitter, no less, three good-looking ladies, gallons of booze, and a baby. The important question is, where the hell are you?”

“I’m sitting here up to my ass in fuel-consumption charts,” Canidy said.

Ann became aware that her heart was beating; and when she put her fingers to her cheek, she confirmed that her face was flushed.

“Where’s there?”

There was a hesitation before Canidy answered.

“On the seashore, near Lakehurst NAS,” he said.

“Well, drop whatever you’re doing, get on a train, and come here before Bitter drinks all the booze.”

“Christ, I wish I could, Doug,” Canidy said. “But it’s out of the question.”

“Why is it out of the question?”

“I’ve got the duty.”

“Over the whole goddamned Fourth of July weekend?”

“Over the whole goddamned Fourth of July weekend,” Canidy confirmed. “I’m really sorry, Doug. I just can’t.”

“Ah, shit!” Douglass said, disappointed but understanding. “It would have been fun. Well, at least say hello to the commander and the girls.”

He handed the telephone to Bitter.

“What was that ‘Early Bird’ business?” Charity asked.

“That was our call sign in China,” Douglass said.

“What’s this story I heard about Canidy being sent home for cowardice?” Ann asked.

“Bullshit is what it was,” Douglass said. “They used that story to explain why he suddenly took off to work for my father. Christ, the first time out, he attacked—by himself—nine Jap bombers and shot down five of them. He was the first ace in the AVG.”

Ann looked at Ed Bitter in triumph. Then she took the telephone

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