“He commands the UN fleet blockading the west coast of Korea,” Pickering said.
Five minutes later, Taylor had the telephone number of Admiral William G. Matthews, and three minutes after that, the Admiral came on the line.
“Yes, of course, I remember you, Pickering. You were one of the very few people in that room this morning who seemed to understand that tides rise as well as fall.”
“Admiral, could I have a few minutes of your time?”
“I was about to leave for Sasebo, but yes, certainly, if you could come here right away. You know where I am?”
“Yes, sir. And I will leave right away.”
“I’ll even buy you a drink. God knows we earned one in that bloody roomful of fools this morning.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pickering said, and hung up.
He turned to the others.
“We may just have gotten lucky,” he said. “And no, Miss Priestly, you may not go. But you have my word that I will bring Captain Bligh and . . . who was it, Bluebeard the Pirate? . . . back to you.”
“Jean Lafitte, sir,” McCoy said.
[FOUR]
THE OFFICE OF THE NAVAL ATTACHÉ HM DELEGATION TO THE SUPREME COMMAND, ALLIED POWERS IN JAPAN TOKYO, JAPAN 1605 10 AUGUST 1950
“Ah, Pickering!” Admiral Sir William G. Matthews, RN, said, getting to his feet as Pickering was shown in. Then he saw Taylor and McCoy, and added: “I didn’t know you were bringing these gentlemen with you. Now I will have to mind my manners. And my mouth.”
“I apologize, sir.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Matthews said. “I am so glad to be out of that bloody room that I’ll give them a drink, too.”
“Very kind of you, sir,” Pickering said. “And please feel free to say anything you like. Both Captain McCoy and Lieutenant Taylor know how I feel about that bloody meeting, too.”
Matthews growled.
A Japanese in a white coat appeared and took drink orders. Matthews waited until he had finished, then ordered another double for himself.
“I was just telling Fitzwater here,” he said, pointing to a very slim, very tall Royal Navy captain, “that I’d finally found a Marine who’d actually been to sea. God, I had trouble keeping my temper when that Army general started lecturing me on the hazards of tides.”
“Actually, sir,” Pickering said, “I’m more of a seaman than a Marine.”
“How’s that?”
“I was about to tell Sir William, sir,” Captain Fitzwater said, “that unless I was mistaken, you are connected with Pacific and Far East Shipping. Was I correct?”
“So far as I know,” Pickering said, “I am the only P&FE master who has run his vessel aground on the Inchon mudflats. ”
“Really?” Admiral Matthews asked. “How did that happen? ”
“I was a little younger at the time,” Pickering said. “And thus far more impressed with myself as a mariner than the facts warranted.”
“So what the hell were you doing dressed up in a Marine’s uniform in that bloody room?”
“Admiral, I’m the Assistant Director of the CIA for Asia,” Pickering said.
“Ah!!” the admiral said.
“I was hoping you would offer that information, General, ” Captain Fitzwater said. “Otherwise, I would have had to whisper it in Sir William’s ear.”
“And are these two spies as well?” the admiral asked. “That one looks like a sailor.”
“Lieutenant Taylor, sir,” Taylor said.
“Actually, he’s a hell of a sailor,” Pickering said. “He just returned from sailing a junk in the Yellow Sea.”
“Really? What was that about? A junk, you say?”
“I’d love to tell you, Sir William,” Pickering said, stopping when the steward handed him his drink.
“Cheers!” Admiral Matthews said when he had raised his fresh drink. “And you would love to tell me, but?”
“I would hate to have it get back to anyone in that bloody room. For that matter, to leave this room.”
“Ah, the plot darkens,” the admiral said, and thought over what Pickering was clearly asking. “You have my word, sir.”
“Would you prefer that I . . .” Captain Fitzwater asked.
“No,” Pickering said, “but if you could give me your word?”
“Of course,” Fitzwater said.
Pickering had decided it made more sense to have Fitzwater on his honor not to repeat what he heard than to really arouse his curiosity by asking him to leave. Pickering thought he was obviously some sort of intelligence officer—he had known about P&FE and the CIA—and he would go snooping, with no restrictions on disseminating what he found out. And Pickering was pleased when he saw approval on McCoy’s face.
“Lieutenant Taylor just sailed the junk Wind of Good Fortune to Tokchok-kundo Island,” Pickering said. “Aboard