Century Club, and he was still smarting over the insultingly low-level job Donovan had offered him before the war—Pickering had to admit it was Roosevelt at his Machiavellian best.
Neither MacArthur nor Nimitz would—or could— protest the appointment. MacArthur had written glowingly to Roosevelt about Pickering’s service in Australia, and Nimitz had personally ordered Pickering decorated with the Silver Star for his valor on board the destroyer sent to bring him off Guadalcanal.
Pickering had served as the OSS’s Deputy Director for the Pacific—which included, so far as the OSS was concerned, both China and India—for the rest of the war. The last time he had been in Tokyo had been as a member—arguably the second senior member—of the team flown into Japan to arrange the details of the surrender. He had left Japan two weeks later, and taken off his uniform a week after that.
[THREE]
THE DEWEY SUITE THE IMPERIAL HOTEL TOKYO, JAPAN 1430 1 JUNE 1950
“I think we did it,” Malcolm S. “Pick” Pickering said to his father as he came through the door. “Made our time official, set another record, I mean.”
“Who did this?” Pickering asked, gesturing around the huge, elegantly furnished suite.
“I hope so,” Pick said, ignoring the question. “Ford is here. It would really piss him off.”
“Who did this?” his father repeated. “Isn’t this a bit much for one man?”
“Mom did it,” Pick said, just a little sheepishly. “She knows the guy who owns it—or maybe the general manager, somebody at the top—and set it up. I think he owed her a favor, or something.”
And what that does is get her off the guilt hook: If Flem is with Pick, and in the best suite in the best hotel in Tokyo, then there’s no reason for me to feel guilty about leaving Ol’ Flem alone.
“And what time do the geisha girls arrive?”
There was the sound of a gentle chime.
“That must be them,” Pick said, smiling.
It was instead a full colonel of the United States Army, in a tropical worsted uniform, from the epaulets of which hung the aiguillette of an aide-de-camp, and on the lapels of which was a shield, in the center of which were five stars in a circle, which was the lapel insignia of an aide-de-camp to a general of the Army.
There aren’t that many five-stars around anywhere, and only one in Japan. This guy is El Supremo’s aide.
How the hell did he know I was here?
“May I help you, Colonel?” Pickering asked.
“Sir, you’re General Pickering?”
“That was a long time ago, Colonel.”
“Sir, I’m Colonel Stanley. I’m an aide-de-camp to General MacArthur. . . .”
“I sort of guessed you were,” Pickering said, chuckling, waving his hand at the colonel’s uniform. He turned and motioned for the colonel to follow him into the suite.
“Colonel Stanley,” Pickering went on, “this is my son, Captain Pickering, of Trans-Global Airways, who tells me he has reason to believe that he set a speed record today, bringing us here. We were about to have a drink to celebrate that, and I hope you’ll join us.”
The colonel shook Pick’s hand and said it was a pleasure and offered his congratulations, “but with your permission, General, I’ll pass on the drink. It’s a little early.”
“Relax, Colonel,” Pickering said. “I won’t tell El Supremo. Scotch all right?”
“Yes, sir,” the colonel said. “Scotch would be fine.”
Pick went behind the bar.
“Dad,” he said, amused, “there’s a note here. It says, ‘When the services of a bartender are required, please press the button.’ Do I press the button?”
“No,” Pickering said, flatly. “Is there any Famous Grouse?”
“Your reputation and tastes precede you, General, sir,” Pick said, and held up a bottle of Famous Grouse Scots whiskey.
“That all right with you, Colonel?”
“That would be fine, sir. Thank you,” the colonel said, and then remembered his mission. He took a squarish envelope from his pocket and handed it to Pickering. “The compliments of the Supreme Commander, General.”
Pickering took the envelope and opened it.
The Supreme Commander and Mrs. Douglas MacArthur request the honor of the presence of
BRIG. GEN. FLEMING PICKERING, USMCR
At
Lunch/Cocktails/Dinner
Whatever is my old Comrade-in-Arms’ pleasure
At the Supreme Commander’s Residence
At
Whenever you can find the time.
Jean and I welcome you to Japan,
my dear Fleming!!!!!
Just tell the colonel what is your pleasure.
Douglas
Dress
Pickering handed the invitation to his son, who took it, shrugged, and pursed his lips in amusement.
“Like I said, your reputation precedes you, General, sir.”
“Colonel,” Pickering said. “Would you be good enough to present my compliments to General MacArthur, and tell him that as soon as I know my schedule, I’ll be