Then there was the sound of a female voice. It was a young voice, and speaking Japanese, probably asking a question.
Pickering took a chance. He raised his voice.
“Ernie?”
There was no reply.
“Ernie! It’s Flem Pickering!”
Now the female voice spoke English.
“Oh, my God!”
A moment later a strikingly beautiful young woman, her black hair cut in a pageboy, ran through the door and threw herself into his arms.
“Uncle Flem!” she cried.
Her voice sounded broken.
Jesus, I hope that’s happiness!
A moment later, over Ernie’s shoulder, Pickering saw her husband. He was a well-built—but lithe, rather than muscular—even-featured, fair-skinned crew-cutted man in Marine Corps khaki shirt and trousers.
“How are you, Ken?” Pickering asked, getting free of Ernie to offer him his hand.
“You’re the last person in the world I expected to see, General,” McCoy said.
“ ‘General’ was a long time ago, Ken,” Pickering said.
There’s something wrong here. What did I do, walk into the middle of a family squabble?
“Did I drop in uninvited at an awkward time?”
“Don’t be silly, Uncle Flem,” Ernie said. “Come on in the house.”
“It’s just that . . . you’re the last person in the world I expected to see,” McCoy repeated.
“Pick’ll be along in a while,” Pickering said. “He just set another speed record getting us here, and he and Charley Ansley are in the process of making it official.”
“Great!” McCoy said.
His enthusiasm and his smile seemed strained.
That’s strange. You usually never know what he’s thinking.
That’s the mark—not being able to tell what they’re thinking—of good poker players and intelligence officers. And Ken McCoy is both.
What did Ed Banning say that day in Washington?
“It’s as if he was born to be an intelligence officer.”
Obviously that doesn’t apply to poker players or intelligence officers when they’re fighting with their wives.
Well, what the hell, married people fight. This is just another example of your lousy timing, showing up in the middle of one.
Ernestine Sage McCoy was the closest thing Fleming Pickering had to a daughter. Her mother and Patricia Foster Fleming had been roommates at Sarah Lawrence. He had literally walked the floor of the hospital with Ernie’s father the night she was born.
Although he had never put it into words, Pickering thought of Kenneth R. McCoy as a second son, and he was sure that Pick thought of Ken as his brother. Patricia Fleming liked Ken, but she was never quite able to forgive him for marrying Ernie. Elaine Sage, Ernie’s mother, and Patricia had decided, when both of their children were still in diapers, that Ernie and Pick would—should—marry.
But Pick had met Ken in Marine Corps Officer Candidate School, and become buddies, and then Pick had introduced his buddy to Ernie, and that had blown the idea of Ernie marrying Pick out of the water.
Fleming Pickering had inherited newly promoted First Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy when he had been given command of the U.S. Marine Corps Office of Management Analysis.
And quickly learned far more about him than Pick had ever told him, probably because Pick had decided the less said about Ken’s background the better.
Ernie had almost immediately announced on meeting Ken that she had met the man with whom she intended to spend the rest of her life, a declaration that had done the opposite of delighting her parents, and Patricia Fleming.
For one thing, he had neither a college education nor any money. That was enough to make the Sages uncomfortable. Learning that “Killer” McCoy was something of a legend in the Marine Corps, and why, would only make things worse.
Brigadier General Pickering had gotten most of the details of Lieutenant McCoy’s background from another officer assigned to the Office of Management Analysis, then Major Ed Banning, who was himself something of a legend in the Marine Corps.
Pickering had gotten the details of Banning’s exploits first: He had been the 4th Marine Regiment’s intelligence officer in Shanghai and gone with it to the Philippines, where he had been temporarily blinded in action against the Japanese. He—and a dozen other blinded men and officers—had been evacuated from the island fortress of Corregidor in Manila Harbor just before Corregidor fell.
When his sight returned, Banning had, perhaps predictably, been assigned to the Office of Management Analysis, where he immediately set about looking for Lieutenant McCoy to have him assigned to the intelligence unit.
He had found Second Lieutenant McCoy in the Naval Hospital at Pearl Harbor, recovering from wounds suffered with the Marine Raiders during their daring attack on Makin Island.