listened again, said “thank you,” and hung up. He looked at Pickering. “The admiral is not in the building,” he said.
“Which means the admiral is not in the building, or the admiral doesn’t want to talk to me,” Pickering said. He walked to the window and looked out of it.
Escorted by an armed guard in a police-like uniform, Colonel Edward J. Banning, USMC, and Master Gunner Ernest Zimmerman, USMC, arrived three minutes later.
“Colonel Banning, Edward J., reporting as ordered with a party of one, sir,” Banning said.
“Hello, Ed,” Pickering said. “Ernie, how are you?”
They shook hands all around.
“General,” the guard said, “when these gentlemen leave, please have them escorted to the lobby, or call the guard captain, and he will send someone here.”
Pickering looked at him a moment, then nodded.
The guard left and closed the door.
“I knew you were coming,” Pickering said. “But I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“ ‘Travel will commence within twenty-four hours,’ ” Banning quoted, and handed Pickering the sheet of teletype paper he had shown Billy Dunn at the Beaufort Marine Air Station earlier. “Ernie’s got one just like it, with only the names changed to protect the guilty. We went to Eighth and Eye, and they sent us over here. Orders will be cut sometime today placing both of us on indefinite TAD1here.”
“Colonel Dunn flew us up,” Zimmerman said. “He sends his respects, sir. Can I ask what’s happening?”
“Ernie, I don’t know,” Pickering said. “But I’m damned sure about to find out.” He turned to McCoy. “Look in that phone book, Ken, and see if you can come up with a deputy director, or a deputy director, administration, something like that.”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy said.
Sixty seconds later, he reported: “There’s a deputy director and deputy director for administration. In this building. Shall I try to get one of them—tell me which one—on the phone?”
“Does it give room numbers?”
“Yes, sir. Four-oh-two for the deputy director, four-oh-six for the deputy director, administration.”
Pickering walked to the door of the office and made a follow me motion with his hand and arm.
They followed him down the corridor toward the elevator, and then Pickering spotted and opened a door to a stairwell.
“It’s only one flight down,” he said.
One flight down, the door from the stairwell to the fourth floor could not be opened.
“Goddamn it!” Pickering said, and started down the stairwell, taking them two at a time, with Banning, McCoy, and Zimmerman on his tail.
The door from the stairwell to the lobby opened. Pickering started for the bank of elevators, and was intercepted by another guard in a police-type uniform before he could punch the button to summon the elevator.
“Excuse me, sir,” the guard said. “May I see your badge, please?”
“I don’t have a badge,” Pickering said. “None of us have badges. It’s one of the things I’m going to discuss with either Admiral Hillenkoetter or one of his deputies.”
Another guard appeared.
“Sir, I can’t permit you to get on the elevator without a badge, or an escort.”
“Okay, escort me,” Pickering said.
“Sir, I can’t do that without permission from the party you wish to see.”
“Okay. Get on the horn, call Admiral Hillenkoetter, or his deputy, or the deputy director for administration, and tell him that General Pickering wishes to see him.”
“If you’ll wait here, please,” one of the guards said, and walked to the desk in the center of the lobby.
“How’d you get this far without a badge?” the other guard asked.
“I came down the goddamn chimney like Santa Claus,” Pickering said.
Two minutes later, the first guard walked back over to them. He was carrying a clipboard.
“I’ll have to see your ID cards,” he said. “And then this officer will escort you to the office of the deputy director for administration.”
That took another two minutes, but finally all five crowded into a small elevator.
They rose to the fourth floor, and the guard led them down the corridor to an office with a gold-lettered sign reading “Deputy Director, Administration” on the frosted glass of its door.
Inside was a reception room, occupied by a middle-aged secretary. A Navy captain stood beside her desk.
“General,” he said. “I’m Captain Murfin, the deputy director for administration. How can I help you?”
“Can we talk in there?” Pickering asked, pointing to the interior office.
“Yes, sir, of course. Can I offer you coffee?”
“That would be very nice, thank you,” Pickering said. He followed Captain Murfin into his office.
“Captain, this is Colonel Banning, Captain McCoy, and Mr. Zimmerman. For lack of a better description, they are my staff.”