McCoy shook his head “no”—there was a rear entrance to the property, with its own bell; tradesmen used that— and went to the front door, carrying his glass with him.
Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, was halfway between the gate in the wall and the house. On his heels was Major General Ralph Howe, U.S. Army, and a large, muscular man in civilian clothing. He was carrying a briefcase. There was something about him that made McCoy suspect he was a soldier, a noncom, or maybe a warrant officer.
There being nothing else to do with it, McCoy shifted what was left of his double Famous Grouse on the rocks to his left hand, and saluted with his right.
Pickering and Howe returned the salute.
“You look pretty natty for someone fresh from the rice paddies of Korea, Captain,” General Howe said. “Please forgive the intrusion. General Pickering said you wouldn’t mind.”
“We were just about to go to the Imperial, sir.”
“Who’s here, Ken?” Pickering asked.
“Hart, Zimmerman, and Ernie, sir,” McCoy said. “And—I guess—the housekeeper and a maid.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, Captain, after you fix us all one of those, why don’t you send them shopping?” Howe said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Just the Japanese,” Howe said. “Mrs. McCoy’s going to have to be brought in on this. Your home just became what I understand you CIA people call a ‘safe house.’ ”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy said.
“Charley,” General Howe said to the muscular man in civilian clothing. “This is the legendary Killer McCoy—”
“Who really doesn’t like to be called that, Ralph,” Pickering said.
Hart and Zimmerman came more or less to attention as everybody entered the living room.
Howe made a gesture indicating they should relax. He went to Zimmerman.
“You look like what a Marine gunner should look like,” he said. “Zimmerman, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Zimmerman said.
“My name is Howe. This is Master Sergeant Charley Rogers. We go back to his being my first soldier when I was a company commander.”
The two shook hands wordlessly.
Ernie McCoy, in the kimono she had worn earlier, came into the room.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. McCoy,” Howe said. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. We just couldn’t take a chance that the ears in the walls in the Imperial might be active.”
“Excuse me?” Ernie said.
“Charley found three microphones in General Pickering’s suite. They might be Kempe Tai leftovers, and then again they might not be.”
“Oooh,” Ernie said, then: “Welcome to our home, General. ”
“Ernie, send the help shopping for a couple of hours,” Pickering ordered.
“Just the servants?”
“I think you’re going to have to be in on this, Mrs. McCoy, ” Howe said.
Ernie nodded and headed for the kitchen.
“McCoy, if you’ll point out the booze to Charley?” Howe said.
“I’m the aide,” Hart said. “I’ll make the drinks. What will you have, sir?”
“What’s that in your glass? Pickering’s brand of scotch?”
“Yes, sir. Famous Grouse.”
“Sergeant?” Hart asked.
Master Sergeant Rogers nodded his head.
Ernie McCoy came back into the room two minutes later.
“I told them to buy enough pressed duck to feed us all for dinner,” she said. “Not to come back for two hours— and to ring the bell when they came in.”
Howe looked at her a little surprised.
“This is not the first time I’ve sent the help shopping, General,” Ernie said.
“I’m not surprised,” Howe said. “And I think you’ll understand what it means when I tell you that you’re about to be made privy to some national security information that it is not to leave this room.”
“I understand,” Ernie said.
“Can we talk here?” Howe asked.
“There’s the dining room,” Ernie said. “In case anyone wants to write, or take notes.”
“The dining room, please, then,” Howe said.
Ernie led them into the dining room, and indicated that Howe should take a seat at the end of the table.
“This is your house, Mrs. McCoy,” Howe said. “That’s your husband’s chair. I’ll sit here.”
He pulled out the first chair next to the head of the table, and gestured for McCoy to sit at the head. Master Sergeant Rogers took the chair across from General Howe, and set his briefcase on the floor. He reached into it and came