didn’t like that.
Dunn handed the major the teletype message.
“Have you seen that, Captain?” McCoy asked the Marine liaison officer.
Marine captains are not required by protocol to use the term “Sir” when speaking with other Marine captains. But there was a certain tone of command in McCoy’s voice that triggered a Pavlovian response in the liaison officer.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Forget you ever saw it,” McCoy ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the liaison officer repeated.
“McCoy,” Major Dunston said, “he wouldn’t admit ever having heard your name until I showed him my credentials.”
“What made you think he would know my name?” McCoy asked.
“This is what I do for a living, Captain,” the major said. “Figure things out. I figured you would be using K-1, and probably be dealing with the Marine liaison officer here.”
“Captain,” Billy Dunn said. “Let me explain your role in this.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tomorrow, probably before eleven hundred, a COD Avenger will land here. The pilot will hand you a sealed envelope. You will treat that envelope as if it contains Top Secret material, and secure it appropriately until either Captain McCoy or Master Gunner Zimmerman, only, repeat only, either of those two officers relieves you of it. You will not, repeat not, log the envelope—or any message from McCoy going out to me on the Badoeng Strait—in your classified-documents log.”
"Aye, aye, sir.”
“If I have to say this, you will not comment on the mysterious envelopes from and to the Badoeng Strait to anyone. Clear?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“The idea is the fewer people who know about this, the better. Clear?”
“Understood, sir.”
“That about take care of it, Captain McCoy?” Dunn asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I’d better be getting back to the Badoeng Strait,” Dunn said.
“I’ll walk you out to the plane, sir,” McCoy said. “I’ll be with you shortly, Major.”
“Thank you, Billy,” McCoy said when they were standing at the wing root of the Avenger, outside Base Operations, where he was sure no one could hear them. “That helped, and I appreciate it. I really need those pictures. I don’t want to paddle up to those islands and find half the North Korean army waiting for us. But I really didn’t want to have to show that captain the White House orders.”
“I think he was sufficiently dazzled by that CIA fellow’s badge,” Dunn said. “And the message from Pickering.”
“More by Colonel Dunn,” McCoy said.
“Ken, what if there are more North Koreans on those islands than you think are there? Then what?” Dunn asked.
“I guess we’ll have to play that by ear. With a little luck, your pictures will let us know, one way or the other.”
“Ken, we have some pretty good photo interpreters on the Badoeng Strait. Maybe they’d be better at looking at the photos than you are.”
“Maybe, hell,” McCoy said. “But they’d have to be told what we’re looking at, and for.”
Dunn nodded. “I understand. I noticed you didn’t tell that CIA guy much. What’s his role in this?”
“I don’t know. I wish the general hadn’t done that. I know his intentions were good. . . .”
“But?”
“I’m afraid he’s clever and will be able to figure things out from what I ask him to get for me. And I’m afraid of who he will tell what’s he’s thinking.”
“But, Christ, he’s a CIA agent—an intelligence officer. He’s not liable to talk too much, is he?”
“From the tone of the radio teletype, he’s obviously subordinate to the Tokyo station chief, which means he would like to prove how clever he is to his boss.”
Dunn considered that for a moment, then touched Mc-Coy’s shoulder.
“Take care of yourself, Ken,” Dunn said. “If you hear anything . . . you’ll let me know?”
“Absolutely,” McCoy said.
“Get the bastard back for me,” Dunn said. “I really want to burn him a new anal orifice.”
“I’m sure as hell going to try,” McCoy said, and then: “I’m glad you brought that up. I can turn the CIA guy onto that, and maybe away from what we’re going to be doing.”
Dunn squeezed McCoy’s shoulder with his fingers, and then hoisted himself onto the Avenger’s wing root.
McCoy waited until Dunn had started the Avenger’s engine and was taxiing after the FOLLOW ME Jeep to the runway, then started back toward Base Operations, looking for the sergeant Zimmerman had sent to meet him. . . .
Technical Sergeant Jennings found him first. He pulled a Jeep behind McCoy and flashed the headlights on and off to get his attention. McCoy got in beside him.
“Where did you say Mr. Zimmerman was?” McCoy asked.
“In a warehouse on the pier, sir.”
“What’s he doing