Under Fire - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,38

anything to you, Admiral?” Pickering asked.

Hillenkoetter searched his mind.

“The guerrilla in the Philippines?” He smiled, and added, “The reservist who promoted himself to general?”

“The guerrilla in the Philippines who, when the Army finally got back to Mindanao, had thirty thousand armed, uniformed, and organized troops under his command waiting for them,” Pickering said. “During the war, he forced the Japanese to divert a quarter of a million men to dealing with him.”

Hillenkoetter, his face showing surprise at the coldly angry intensity of Pickering’s response, looked at him and waited for him to continue.

“Before, at President Roosevelt’s direction, I sent a team of agents into Mindanao to establish contact with General Fertig, General Willoughby, speaking for MacArthur, stated flatly that there was no possibility of meaningful guerrilla operations in the Pacific.”

Hillenkoetter took a moment to digest that.

“I gather your relationship with General MacArthur was difficult?” he asked.

“Anyone’s relationship with General MacArthur is difficult, ” Pickering said. “But if you are asking what I think you are, our personal relationship was—is—just fine. I had dinner with him and Mrs. MacArthur last week.”

“And did you bring this . . . this assessment up to him?”

“General MacArthur’s loyalty to his staff, especially those who were with him in the Philippines, is legendary,” Pickering said. “I know Douglas MacArthur well enough to know that it would have been a waste of time.”

“And, I daresay, he might have asked the uncomfortable question, how you came to be in possession of the assessment in the first place?”

Pickering didn’t reply.

“The officer who gave you this assessment should not have done so,” Hillenkoetter said.

“Is that going to be your reaction to this, Admiral?” Pickering asked, coldly. “Someone dared to go out of channels, and therefore what he had to say is not relevant?”

“Easy, Flem,” Senator Fowler said.

“I didn’t say that, General,” Hillenkoetter said.

“That was the implication,” Pickering said.

“I’ll need the officer’s name,” Hillenkoetter said.

“I’m not going to give it to you,” Pickering said, flatly.

“I can get it,” Hillenkoetter flared.

“If you did that, Admiral, this whole thing would probably wind up in the newspapers,” Senator Fowler said. “I don’t think you want that any more than we do.”

Hillenkoetter, while waiting to hear that the recording system was functioning, had gone over the CIA’s most recent “informal biography” of Fowler, Richardson K. (R., Cal.) and was thus freshly reminded that the senator owned the San Francisco Courier-Herald, nine smaller newspapers, six radio stations, and five television stations, including one radio station and one television station in Washington, D.C.

“This is a matter of national security, Senator,” Hillenkoetter said, and immediately regretted it.

“That’s why we’re here, Admiral,” Pickering said.

Hillenkoetter glared at him, realized he was doing so, and turned to Fowler.

“What is it you would like me to do, Senator?” he asked.

“At the very least, light a fire under your people in Japan and Hong Kong and Formosa and see why they haven’t come up with an assessment like this,” Pickering said.

“I was asking the senator, General,” Hillenkoetter said.

“What General Pickering suggests seems like a good first step,” Fowler said. “Followed closely by step two, which would be keeping me advised, on a daily basis, of what your people develop.”

“Senator, my channel to the Senate is via the Senate Oversight Committee on Intelligence. I’m not sure I’m authorized to do that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not authorized to do,” Fowler said, reasonably. “So what I’m apparently going to have to do is go to Senator Driggs, whom I had appointed to the chairmanship of the Oversight Committee, and ask him to give you permission to give me what I want. I think Jack Driggs would want to know why I’m interested.”

“Another option would be to bring this to the attention of the President,” Hillenkoetter said.

“Whatever you think is best for all concerned,” Fowler said. “I’m going to have lunch with President Truman at half past twelve. Would you like me to bring it up with him then?”

They locked eyes for a moment.

“Senator,” Hillenkoetter said, “I mean this as a compliment. You really know how to play hardball, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard that unfounded accusation before,” Fowler said.

“May I speak out of school?” Admiral Hillenkoetter asked.

“I thought I’d made it clear this whole conversation is out of school,” Fowler said.

“With all respect to General Pickering, and his former subordinate, the officer who prepared this assessment, I’m having a great deal of trouble placing much credence in it.”

“See here, Admiral—” Pickering flared.

“Flem, let him finish,” Fowler said sharply.

“For one thing,” Hillenkoetter

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024