In Danger's Path Read online

  “If I knew you were with your girl, I wouldn’t have told you to come right out,” Caroline said.

  “She’s more like my keeper than my girl,” Weston said. “But I’m working on it. Caroline, Janice. Janice, Caroline.”

  “Your keeper?”

  “She’s a nurse in the psychiatric ward of the hospital,” Weston said.

  “Charley wrote about that. The letter came this morning,” Caroline said. “That’s outrageous!”

  “Pay attention, Florence,” Weston said.

  “Janice, damn it!” Janice blurted.

  “Hello, Janice,” Caroline said. “I’m Caroline McNamara.”

  “How do you do? I’m Janice Hardison.”

  “It was very nice of you to bring Jim out here,” Caroline said.

  “Nothing is too good for us lunatics, right, Janice?”

  “Will you shut up?” Janice snapped.

  “We’ve only known each other four hours, and we’re having our first lovers’ quarrel,” Weston said.

  “We are not lovers!”

  “I’m working on that,” Weston said. “I’m certainly willing to give it a shot.”

  Caroline laughed. “Why do I suspect Jim is your first Marine Aviator?” she asked.

  “He’s not my first anything,” Janice said.

  “They take a little getting used to,” Caroline said. “But once you acquire the taste, you won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

  “Pay attention to the lady, Janice,” Weston said.

  “If you don’t shut up…”

  “You’ll hold your breath until you turn blue?”

  Caroline laughed.

  And Janice realized she was smiling. “You are crazy, you know that?”

  Oh, my God! I can’t believe I said that! What’s the matter with me?

  “No, Florence Nightingale, Dr. Kister and I are in agreement that I am not crazy.”

  “Who’s Dr. Kister?” Caroline asked.

  “Navy psychiatrist.”

  “Wait until Dr. Kister hears that you went AWOL. Climbed over the fence.”

  “You’re going to tell him?”

  “You went AWOL?” Caroline asked.

  “Perhaps, technically,” Weston said. “But if it gets down to a court-martial, my defense is going to be that I was simply carrying out a legal order.”

  “What legal order?” Janice asked.

  “From my last commanding officer, Captain Charles M. Galloway,” Weston said. “‘The first thing you do when you get to Philadelphia, Weston, is take this pineapple to Caroline.’”

  Caroline chuckled.

  “What he did—he didn’t have a pass, of course. They never give off-base passes when a patient is in Five-B…” Janice said.

  “Five-B is the loony bin, Caroline,” Weston clarified.

  “What he did was climb the barbed-wire fence,” Janice went on, wondering why it was important to her to explain herself to Caroline. “I found him brazenly walking up South Broad Street—”

  “And you brought him here,” Caroline interrupted. “That was a very nice, a very kind thing for you to do, Janice. Thank you.”

  “Yes, it was,” Weston said. “Thank you, Janice.”

  Janice was not quite sure if he was making fun of her or not.

  “Now the problem is getting him back on the base,” Janice said.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Caroline asked.

  “No,” Weston said immediately.

  “Yes, it is,” Janice insisted.

  “Changing the subject,” Weston said. “At the risk of sounding forward, Mrs. McNamara, Captain Galloway suggested that you might offer me a small libation, presuming I delivered the Ananas comosus while it was still suitable for human consumption.”

  “Oh, God! Where’s my manners? Keeping you standing here in the foyer! Come in the living room, please.”

  He called her “Mrs. McNamara.” So where’s Mr. McNamara?

  Weston misread the look in Janice’s eyes. “Not to worry, Janice, I gave Dr. Kister my word that I would go easy on the booze. That was after he told me he scheduled a physical for me in the morning.”

  “Good,” she said, a trifle self-righteously.

  “To completely put your mind at rest, Janice, I also gave the good doctor my word as an officer and a gentleman—or was it as a Boy Scout? It was as a Boy Scout, now that I think about it, which means that I was really serious—that I would not drag you into the bushes.”

  “What?” Janice asked incredulously.

  “So you can stop looking at me as if you think I have that in mind.”

  “That thought would never occur to a Marine officer, right?” Caroline said. “Particularly a Marine fighter pilot?”

  “Perish the thought,” Weston said piously.

  They were now in a well-furnished living room, standing before a sideboard turned into a bar.

  “What would you like, Jim?” Caroline asked.

  “I’d like one of each,” Weston said. “But I’ll settle for a small scotch.”

  “Janice?”

  “Nothing, thank you.”

  “Oh, come on,” Weston said. “Try to remember you’re an officer of the Naval establishment.”

  “If she doesn’t want anything, don’t push her,” Caroline said, coming to her aid.

  “I’ll have a light scotch, please,” Janice said.

  “And afterward, I’ve got some steaks warming up in the kitchen.”

  “Warming up?” Janice asked.

  “One of the many things that Charley taught me is that meat tastes much better if you get it to room temperature before you cook it.”

  “You have a lovely home, Mrs. McNamara,” Janice said politely.

  “My husband, thank God, had the morals of an alley cat,” Caroline said.

  “Excuse me?” Janice asked.

  “If he had obeyed that promise he made to keep himself only to me until death did us part, I would still be married to him, I would still be supporting him, I wouldn’t have gotten this house as part of the divorce settlement, and I wouldn’t have met Charley,” Caroline said.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Weston said.

  Janice looked at him and could not keep herself from smiling.

  [THREE]

  “The first reasonably deserted place I see,” Lieutenant (j.g.) Hardison said to Captain Weston, “I’m going to stop so you can climb in the trunk.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m perfectly serious,” she said. “You’re AWOL, goddamn it!”

  “I like it when you talk dirty,” he said.

  “That’s profane, not obscene.”

  “Say something obscene.”

  “I will not,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Just drop me a couple of blocks away, and I’ll go back over the fence.”

  “This would be easier.”

  “Your trunk is probably greasy, and I will ruin my nearly brand-new uniform.”

  “You would probably tear your nearly brand-new uniform going back over the barbed wire,” she said. “And my trunk is spotless!”

  “I am putty in your hands,” he said. “Now that I’ve considered that a dry cleaning job is much cheaper than a new pair of pants, anyway.”

  Her trunk was clean, but it was small. Weston had to lie on his back, with his knees pulled up. Janice was just about to close the trunk lid on him when he motioned for her to come close. Then he grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead. “Nighty night, Mommy,” he said.

  “You are insane,” she said, and slammed the trunk shut.

  When she opened the trunk in the parking lot behind the Female Officers’ Quarters, he had trouble climbing out. “God,” he said seriously. “That brought back a lot of memories. The last gate I sneaked through was guarded by Japanese soldiers.”

  “Really?”

  “Actually no,” he said. “But now that I know you’re impressed with heroic efforts, I’ll try to invent som
e more.”

  “You’re really terrible. I believed you.”

  “It was a joke,” he said.

  “I don’t think I like your sense of humor,” Janice said.

  That’s not true. He’s really a funny guy.

  “What did you think of Caroline?”

  “I like her,” she said.

  “She liked you. And I like you. That leaves the question, do you like me?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  That’s not true, either. I really like him.

  “I suppose that means a goodnight kiss is out of the question?”

  “Yes, it does,” she said firmly.

  But then she looked into his eyes, and she kissed him.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” he said. “That was not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Not that,” he said. “When do you want to get married?”

  “Good night, Captain Weston,” Janice said. “Sleep well.”

  “After that? Don’t be absurd.”

  “That was nothing special.”

  “When can I expect special?”

  “Never,” she said. “Go to bed.”

  She marched toward the door of the Female Officers’ Quarters. When she had pulled it open, she turned and looked back at the parking lot.

  He was still standing where she had left him, looking at her.

  She looked at him for a long moment before she went into the building.

  V

  [ONE]

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  1420 17 February 1943

  “Jim was right about you, Captain,” the President of the United States said, gesturing toward a tall, slender, bald man in the uniform of a Marine major. “You are a remarkable young man, a fine Marine.”

  “Hear, hear,” Senator Richardson K. Fowler (R.-Cal.) said. Fowler, sometimes described by President Roosevelt as “the chief of my more or less loyal opposition” and Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, had been close friends for thirty years.

  “He was a Raider, Dad,” Major James Roosevelt said. “What did you expect?”

  “Well, in that case, I presume, as one Raider to another, you will make sure that Captain McCoy is well taken care of tonight? And that, by order of the Commander in Chief, he gets some well-deserved time off?”

  “With pleasure,” Major Roosevelt said.

  The President had a tangential thought. Looking first at Senator Fowler and Navy Secretary Frank Knox, and then at McCoy, he asked: “Tell me, Captain, how do you feel about your assignment to the OSS?”

  “I’m a Marine, sir,” McCoy said.

  “Does that mean you’d really prefer to go back to the Raiders?”

  “Sir, I would like to go back to the Raiders, but what I meant was I’m a Marine officer, and I do what I’m ordered to do.”

  “I wish there was some way I could make that splendid attitude contagious around here,” the President said. He leaned forward in his wheelchair and offered McCoy his hand. “Thank you very much, Captain,” he said, “not only for the briefing, but also for what you and the others did when you went into the Philippines to hook up with this Fertig chap.”

  “He told you, Dad,” the President’s son said. “He’s a Marine officer. He does what he’s told to do. ‘Get in the rubber boat and start paddling.’ Right, Killer?”

  “Yes, sir,” McCoy said.

  “‘Killer’?” the President quoted. “I think I’d like to hear about that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Major Roosevelt said.

  But the President was already turning his attention to the Secretary of the Navy. “I’d like a few minutes of your time, Frank, please,” he said.

  “Of course, Mr. President,” the Secretary of the Navy replied.

  McCoy sensed that he was being dismissed. Confirmation came a second later as Major Roosevelt touched his arm and nodded toward the door of the upstairs sitting room. He saluted and marched out of the room. Major Roosevelt and Senator Fowler followed him.

  As they entered the corridor, a Secret Service man closed the door after them.

  “Good job, McCoy,” Major Roosevelt said. “You really impressed the Old Man.”

  McCoy blurted what he was thinking, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

  Senator Fowler chuckled. “Jimmy’s father can charm the socks off you, if he’s so inclined,” he said. “You have to remember to ask for your shoes back. I didn’t say that, Jimmy.”

  Major Roosevelt laughed. “I won’t tell him what you said, and I won’t tell you what he says about you.”

  “Fair enough,” Fowler said.

  “Okay,” Roosevelt said. “Now we have to find a place where the Killer can rest his weary head.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to call him that,” Fowler said.

  “Those rules don’t apply to Raiders,” Roosevelt replied. “So what’s your pleasure, Killer? I’m sure we can put you up here, but I’ll tell you I don’t stay here myself unless I’m forced to. And there aren’t very many nubile young things prowling these historic corridors.”

  “Ken’s taken care of,” Fowler said.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Across the street,” Fowler said, “in General Pickering’s apartment.”

  “Well, I can’t top that offer,” Roosevelt said. “But what about money? Have you been paid lately?”

  “I’m all right for money,” McCoy said. “I drew a partial pay at Pearl Harbor.”

  “Anything? Incidentally, my father meant it when he said to take some time off. Take at least two weeks off, and tell anybody who asks that it’s administrative leave, not chargeable as ordinary leave. By direction of the President.”

  “Can I get away with that?”

  “Yes, you can,” Roosevelt said firmly. “The least I can do is get you a car to drive across the street.”

  “I’ve got my car, but thank you just the same,” Fowler said.

  Roosevelt put out his hand to McCoy. “It was good to see you, Ken. And when you see Zimmerman, tell him I sent my best regards. He’s still in Australia?”

  “With this OSS business, there’s no telling,” McCoy said. “It was good to see you again, too, Major.”

  “I’ll walk you downstairs,” Roosevelt said, putting an arm around his shoulders.

  [TWO]

  The Marquis de Lafayette Suite

  The Foster Lafayette hotel

  Washington, D.C.

  1445 17 February 1943

  A soft chime sounded, announcing that someone was in the sixth-floor corridor seeking entrance. The three men in the sitting room of the six-room suite looked at the door. Major Edward J. Banning put his drink on the coffee table in front of the red leather armchair where he was sitting, walked to the door, and opened it. He was in uniform, but had removed his tunic, pulled his field scarf loose, and turned up the cuffs of his shirt.

  “Good afternoon, Senator,” Banning said politely, and smiled at Captain McCoy.

  “Hello, Banning,” Senator Fowler said. “I return this young man to your capable custody.”

  “He looks to me as if he could use a drink,” Banning said.

  “We both could,” Fowler said, and stepped into the room.

  The other two men rose to their feet. One of them, Captain Edward Sessions, USMC, was a tall, lithely muscular, well-set-up Marine captain in his late twenties. He, too, had removed his uniform tunic. A ring on his finger identified him as a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy. An intelligence officer assigned to the Office of Management Analysis, he had met McCoy during a covert operation staged by Banning in China before the war.

  The other was a tall, slight, pale-skinned, unhealthy-looking man, wearing glasses and an ill-fitting gray suit.

  “Good afternoon, Senator,” Colonel F. L. Rickabee, USMC, said.

  “Good to see you, Colonel,” Fowler said. “And to quickly put your mind at rest,
Ken did himself proud.”

  “I expected nothing less,” Rickabee said, “but I think we can give him a drink nevertheless.”

  “I’ll even make them,” Captain Sessions said. “What’s your pleasure, gentlemen?”

  “I don’t know about Ken,” Fowler said. “But I think I will dip once again into General Pickering’s bottomless well of Famous Grouse.”

  “Ken?” Sessions asked.

  McCoy nodded.

  Sessions walked to a rolling cart on which sat a dozen or so bottles of whisky, glasses, a soda siphon, and the other paraphernalia of a bar.

  “It went well?” Colonel Rickabee asked as he sat down again.

  “I bear orders from the Commander in Chief,” Fowler said. “This ‘remarkable young man, this fine Marine’ is to get ‘some well-deserved time off.’”

  “Consider it done, Senator,” Colonel Rickabee said.

  “I told you you’d live through it, Ken,” Major Banning said.

  McCoy looked at him. “Specs was there,” McCoy said. “That helped a lot.”

  “Specs?” Banning asked.

  “Major Roosevelt,” McCoy said. “He was the only guy on the Makin Raid who wore glasses. We called him ‘Specs’ behind his back.”

  Sessions handed McCoy a squat glass dark with whisky.

  “You hungry, Ken?”

  McCoy nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

  “You didn’t have any lunch,” Sessions said.

  “Get on the horn, Sessions,” Colonel Rickabee ordered, “and order up a steak for this ‘remarkable young man, this fine Marine.’”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Sessions said.

  “A large steak, Ed,” Major Banning said, “big enough for two people, and a dozen oysters on the half shell.”

  “I don’t know about the oysters,” McCoy said.

  “Don’t let those brand-new railroad tracks go to your head, Captain McCoy,” Colonel Rickabee said. “When a superior officer tells you to eat oysters, it’s because he thinks you need oysters. What you say is, ‘Aye, aye, sir. Thank you, sir,’ and eat them.”

  For some reason, Colonel Rickabee, Major Banning, and Captain Sessions looked very pleased with themselves.

  Sessions called room service and ordered a very large steak and a dozen oysters, the larger the better. Then he turned to Colonel Rickabee. “Can I fix you another drink, Colonel?”