Under Fire - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,207

sorties of the day,” he said, smiling, “an Avenger declared an emergency. All emergency procedures were put into operation. The Avenger came in, made a perfect landing, and McCoy, wearing black pajamas, and needing a bath and a shave, got out, carrying what looked like a half-dozen square tin cans.”

“I thought you said the Avenger had declared an emergency, ” Pickering said.

“McCoy had commandeered the Avenger in Pusan. It belongs to the Sicily,” Cushman said, “and to avoid the possibility that Badoeng Strait would refuse permission for it to land, had the pilot declare an emergency. Badoeng Strait’s captain, as you can probably understand, was apoplectic.”

“That was necessary, Ken?” Pickering asked, shaking his head.

“I wanted to get the transformers to Colonel Dunn before he took off for the first sorties.”

“And those were the circumstances under which Captain McCoy felt obliged to let me know what he was up to,” Cushman said.

“What is it the Jesuits say? ‘The end justifies the means’?” Pickering asked.

“I hope this end does,” Cushman said.

“In this case, I believe it does,” Pickering said.

“McCoy said General MacArthur is not privy to his—I suppose your—clandestine operation, but he believes the President is?”

“He is. General Howe told him.”

“That was the first I’d heard of General Howe,” Cushman said.

“A very good officer,” Pickering said.

“Do I get to meet him?”

Hart handed Pickering and Cushman cups of coffee, then handed one to McCoy and took one himself.

“Certainly. When he comes back from Korea,” Pickering said.

“General Howe is in Korea?” McCoy asked, surprised.

“He’ll be back, he said, either tonight or tomorrow,” Pickering said. He turned to Cushman and went on. “He went there to see General Walker. General Collins, and some others, think Walker should be removed. The President wants Howe’s opinion.”

“Not yours?”

“I’m not qualified—or about—to voice an opinion of an Army commander’s performance.”

“And this General Howe is?”

“He commanded a division in Europe. He’s far better qualified than I am, but he’s damned uncomfortable with Truman’s order. And since one of us had to stay here in Tokyo to keep an eye on Sherman and Collins, here I am.”

“You think the Inchon invasion is a sure thing?”

“That’s why I ordered this operation,” Pickering said.

“And MacArthur doesn’t know you’re doing this?”

“As the Deputy Director of the CIA for Asia, I don’t have to tell MacArthur of every small clandestine operation I’m running.”

“And what’s going to happen when he finds out?”

“That’s one of those bridges somewhere down the road,” Pickering said.

“You’re walking pretty close to the edge of a cliff, I guess you know.”

“If I told him I thought these islands should be in our hands as soon as possible, I would be challenging the collective wisdom of his staff. Most of them were with him in the Philippines.”

“And he would back them, of course.”

Pickering nodded.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Cushman asked.

“You already have. And since you are now in on this, I won’t be reluctant now to ask for any help I think we need.”

Pickering looked at his watch.

“Now we have to leave, George,” he said. He turned to McCoy. “Go home, Ken. Get a little rest. Whatever you think you have to do will wait until I get back from the Dai-Ichi Building. Come back about 1300. Bring Ernie, if you like. We can have a room-service lunch and talk here.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“What’s Taylor up to?” Pickering asked.

“He’s sitting on Jeanette Priestly for me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Until I talked to her, she was going to write a story about Pick getting shot down,” McCoy said.

“And you were able to talk her out of it?” Pickering asked, surprised.

“I took her with us to Tokchok-kundo,” McCoy said. “It was the only thing I could think of to do with her.”

“So now she’s in on everything?” Pickering said coldly.

McCoy met Pickering’s eyes.

“I don’t think we have to worry about her. I put her on the junk before I knew that she thinks she’s in love with Pick,” he said. And then he blurted, “Fuck it.”

“Excuse me?” Pickering said, partly a question, mostly a reprove.

McCoy took a manila envelope from inside his shirt and handed it to Pickering.

“Billy gave me these just before he took off from the Badoeng Strait,” McCoy said. “Nobody knows about these pictures but two guys in the photo lab on the Badoeng Strait, Dunn, me, and now you.”

“What am I looking at?”

“These pictures were taken the day after Pick went down, near the spot. Somebody stamped ‘PP’ and an arrow in a ruptured rice paddy.”

“My God,” Pickering said. “He’s

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