fucking idea,” McCoy said. “Right now, it looks like we’re stranded on this beautiful tropical island.”
[FOUR]
THE DEWEY SUITE THE IMPERIAL HOTEL TOKYO, JAPAN 1315 20 AUGUST 1950
Major General Ralph Howe, NGUS, was sitting in one of the green leather armchairs in the sitting room when the door opened and Brigadier General Fleming Pickering walked in, trailed by Captain George F. Hart.
“I let myself in, Flem,” Howe said. “I hope that’s all right?”
“Don’t be silly,” Pickering said. “When did you get back?” He waved at Master Sergeant Rogers. “Hello, Charley.”
“After hanging around K-1 most of last night waiting for a break in the storm, we finally got off, and landed at Haneda a little after eight,” Howe said, and added, “where Colonel Sidney Huff was waiting for me, to tell me El Supremo would be pleased if I would join him at my earliest opportunity.”
Pickering’s lower lip came out momentarily.
“What was that all about?”
“I’m not sure I know,” Howe said, “and I have been thinking about it ever since I was dismissed from the throne room. About the only thing I am sure about is that Willoughby is onto your Flying Fish Channel operation.”
“I suppose that was inevitable. Is that what he called you in for, to ask you what you knew about that?”
“I don’t know, Flem. Let me tell you what happened, and you tell me.”
“Will it wait until I have my twelve-hundred snort?” Pickering asked. He walked to the sideboard and picked up a bottle of Famous Grouse. “Would you like one?”
“Why not?” Howe said. “God knows I deserve one.” Then he asked, “ ‘Twelve-hundred snort’?”
“I found that unless I went on a schedule, I was prone to keep nipping all day,” Pickering said. “I think with a little effort, I could easily become an alcoholic.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Howe said. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, Flem.”
“I have one at twelve,” Pickering said, ignoring him, “another at five, a brandy after dinner, and sometimes a nightcap. That way, I can go to sleep reasonably sure of what my name is and where I am. Tell me about your session with El Supremo.”
“Well,” Howe said, and chuckled. “It began, if you can believe this, with a fried-egg sandwich, just like Mommy used to make for him when he was at West Point, and Hannibal’s elephants . . .”
“I don’t know either,” Pickering said when Howe had finished. “It’s entirely possible he wanted to hear what you might have to say about Korea. But more likely—now that I’ve had a minute to think about it—it was his back-channel response to the JCS message he showed you. I think it’s significant that he showed it to you. He knows you report to the President, which means you’d report what he said, and what he said was that unless he is expressly forbidden to do so, he’s going to ignore what Collins and the JCS think, and send two divisions ashore at Inchon on 15 September. He got his message to the President without sending the President a message through channels.”
Howe grunted.
“That’s what Charley thinks, too,” he said, and added: “You’ve heard me observe that the true test of another man’s intelligence is the degree to which he agrees with you? I seem to be surrounded by geniuses.”
Pickering and Rogers chuckled.
“You don’t think—maybe in addition to the above—that he wanted to send you an ever-so-subtle warning that he was on to your Flying Fish Channel operation? He said he was concerned about its possible ‘impact’ on Inchon. Maybe it’s time for you to tell him about it?”
“I don’t think the Flying Fish operation is going to have any impact on the Inchon invasion at all,” Pickering said.
“I don’t like what I think I’m hearing,” Howe said.
“We have not heard from Zimmerman for four days,”
Pickering said. “Since his 0730 call on the sixteenth. You know how that works?”
Howe shook his head, “no.”
“We transmit a code phrase at a predetermined time. Zimmerman’s radioman, who is monitoring the frequency, responds with a two-word code phrase, repeated twice. The idea is to reduce the chance of the North Koreans hearing a radio transmission at all, and if they should get lucky and hear it, not to give them time to locate the transmitter by triangulation.”
Howe nodded his understanding.
“There has been no response from Tokchok-kundo since 0730 on the sixteenth,” Pickering went on. “This morning, we got the code word message ‘Egg Laid 0430’ from HMS Charity. At the time we coined the