“Jesus, Jack, you’re going to have to get in the habit of letting people know where you are,” he said.
“I’m on leave, on my honeymoon, for Christ’s sake.”
“Felter doesn’t know the word,” Geoff said. “Where are you?”
“In Liza’s kitchen.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Geoff said, and hung up.
Two minutes later, he appeared at the kitchen door.
“Funny, you don’t look exhausted,” he said. “I expected skin and bones, dark rings under your eyes, trembling limbs, the whole panoply of symptoms of sexual excess.”
“Very funny, Geoff,” Marjorie said, blushing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Geoff asked.
“Marjorie wants to go to the New Year’s Eve party at the O Club,” Jack. “I have to report back on Saturday.”
“You really want to go out there? Why?”
Jack pointed at Marjorie.
Geoff shrugged.
“There’s a term for unquestioned obedience to a wife like that that an officer and gentleman such as myself would not repeat in mixed company,” he said, and handed Jack a sheet of pocket notebook paper.
Marjorie gave him the finger.
“Finton,” Geoff said. “You better call him right now. He’s been looking all over for you.”
“Who’s Finton?
“The Bishop,” Marjorie said. “The warrant officer who works for Sandy in Washington. I’m really starting not to like Uncle Sandy.”
“You don’t even know what he wants,” Jack said. “Can I use the phone, Liza?”
“Get the charges, Jack,” Marjorie said.
“Go in one of the bedrooms,” Liza said. “If I’m liable to overhear anything I shouldn’t.”
Jack shook his head and reached for the telephone and dialed the number. It was answered on the second ring.
“Liberty 7-5686,” a gentle female voice announced.
“Mr. Finton, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Portet.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Portet, Mr. Finton will be so pleased. He’s been looking all over for you. Just one moment, please.”
Jack covered the microphone with his hand.
“A woman answered,” he said.
“That’s the nun,” Marjorie said.
“The nun?” Liza asked in disbelief.
“She’s really a nun,” Marjorie said.
“This is Warrant Officer Finton,” a male voice announced. “Lieutenant Portet?”
“Right.”
“You’re a hard man to find, Lieutenant,” Finton said. “You really ought to let people know where you are.”
“I was on my honeymoon,” Jack said. “On leave.”
“I know,” Finton said. “I tried all the numbers in Ocean Reef, and the golf club, and the marina, and wherever else I could think of. Where are you now?”
Jack looked at Geoff.
“With Lieutenant Craig in Ozark.”
“He told me he didn’t know where you were.”
“When he told you that, he didn’t know. What’s on your mind, Mr. Finton?”
“I have a message from the colonel for you. You got a pencil and paper?”
Jack saw there was a blackboard and chalk on the wall. He reached for the chalk.
“Yeah.”
“Start. Enrico de la Santiago is in Room 24, BOQ 107, Hurlburt. Telephone Hurlburt Military 6674. I thought you would like to know. Happy New Year. Signature is S.T.F. End. Got that?”
“Six-six-seven-four?”
“Right.”
“Got it,” Jack said.
“What the colonel likes, Lieutenant, is for you to have at least three people on the list know where you are at all times. He didn’t tell you that?”
“No, as a matter of fact, he didn’t. What list?”
“The list of people on whatever project you’re working on,” Finton said. “Most people find it easier to let me or Mary Margaret know.”
“Okay. Now I know.”
“If you leave Craig’s place, Lieutenant, let someone know where you’ll be,” Chief Warrant Officer Finton said, and hung up.
“Well?” Marjorie asked.
“A friend of mine, Enrico de la Santiago, is at Hurlburt,” Jack said.
“Who’s he?”
“He’s a Cuban, used to be in the Cuban Air Force, used to work for us in Air Simba. He was in the Congo flying B-26s for the CIA.”
“Oh, yeah,” Geoff said. “I wonder what he’s doing at Hurlburt? ”
“I have no idea, but Hurlburt’s no place to be spending New Year’s Eve alone. His wife and kids are still in Cuba.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then picked up the telephone again and dialed the Fort Rucker number.
“Major Hodges’s quarters, please,” he said when the operator came on the line. Pappy answered on the fifth ring, just as Jack was concluding he wasn’t home.
“Hodges.”
“Portet, sir.”
“Are you aware that Finton’s looking for you?”
“Yes, sir. I just talked to him.”
“Why do I suspect I’m not going to like this call?”
“Major, could I get an airplane for a couple of hours this afternoon? ”
“You’re here?” Pappy asked, and then went on before Jack could reply. “Where do you want to go in an airplane?”
“Hurlburt,” Jack said. “Finton gave me a message—”
“Who is Santiago, anyway?” Pappy interrupted. “I mean to you. Finton told me what he’s been doing.”