“Whenever possible, we’re going to draw our funds from the nonaccountable funds allocated to the Joint Chiefs. If it’s not there, we can get what we need from the President’s discretionary funds. That airplane of yours, for example, will be charged against the Joint Chiefs. The money we’re spending on the African flight operation is coming from the President.”
“Interesting.”
“Getting back to Baker,” Donovan said. “We’re about to start recruiting people on a large scale. Baker is the man to handle that, I think, and also to run the school. Have you heard about that?”
“Back when he was still talking to me, Baker threatened to send me to it,” Canidy said. “But all I know is that there is a school.”
“One now, more later. We’re going to take over the Congressional Country Club in Maryland, and we’re taking over a country place, the estate of a duke, in England. The place we have right now is an estate made available to us in Virginia, not far from Washington,” Donovan said. “I think we can give you and Whittaker—especially Whittaker—credit for on-the-job training and excuse you from going through it; but from now on, just about everybody we recruit will go through formal training.”
“Espionage 101?” Canidy said.
“Just about,” Donovan said. “Some of the people we’re going to recruit will come from the military, but many others will come directly from civilian life. They’ll need to acquire some basic skills—firearms, for example—and a little belly flattening and muscle toning. Sort of our version of basic training.”
“I understand,” Canidy said.
“Baker wants Jimmy Whittaker as an instructor, and I think for once he will be a round peg in a round hole. And young Martin, too.”
“You mean to go through the school, don’t you? Not as an instructor?”
“Martin was commissioned when he finished basic training,” Donovan said. “From then on, he’s been at either Fort Bragg or Fort Benning working with the people developing parachute operations. He’s actually something of an expert. He’s made sixty or seventy jumps, many at night, and he’s spent a lot of time learning how to drop cargo by parachute.”
“I thought he was involved with us because he knew Fulmar—and because of his father,” Canidy said.
“That, too,” Donovan said. “If you need him to deal with Fulmar, he’ll be available. Or just go get him. There’s an airfield on the estate.”
He dipped into his briefcase again and came up with an Esso road map. On it was marked a surprisingly large area about thirty miles from the District of Columbia.
“The field was a private strip,” Donovan said. “And is not, I understand, on FAA aerial charts. Can you find it from that?”
“I can find it, but will it take the Beech?”
“I’m sure it will,” Donovan said. “I was once picked up there in a DC-3.”
“I can find it,” Canidy said, making a careful mental note of where the estate was in relation to Washington.
“Can you get everybody in the Beech?”
“Who’s everybody?”
“Baker, Cynthia, the two Douglasses, your friend Bitter, Jimmy Whittaker, and young Martin.”
“Yeah,” Canidy said after thinking it over. “To this place in the country, you mean?”
“No. To Anacostia. Douglass can arrange to get them to the estate in the morning.”
“You’re talking about right now?”
“I heard something about a clambake,” Donovan said.
“I’m responsible for that,” Canidy said. “Guarding this place is really lousy duty for the white hats. I feel sorry for them. I thought they would probably like a clambake, and I showed them what had to be done.”
“A pit on the beach?” Donovan asked. “Lobsters? Clams? Corn on the cob? Beer?”
“The works,” Canidy said.
“Who’s paying for the beer and lobster?”
“I am.”
“Well, turn in a voucher for it.”
Canidy was surprised. “Thank you,” he said.
“You won’t get to drink any of the beer, since you’ll be flying, but I can’t see any point in letting all that food go to waste by sending everybody to Washington right now. And Mrs. Donovan and I love clambakes.”
“Considering what I feared was going to happen to me, I can cheerfully do without the beer,” Canidy said.
Donovan nodded.
“How close was I to St. Elizabeth’s, Colonel?” Canidy asked.
“It was a close call, Dick,” Donovan said. “As close as I’ve made lately. I hope it was a good call.”
“Yeah,” Canidy said after a moment, thoughtfully, but as if he was thinking of someone else. “So do I.”
As Donovan began to move toward the door, Canidy asked, “What about Bitter’s wife and the birdbrain?”
“I’ll have Ann Chambers drive their car back in the morning,”