The Fighting Agents Part 41

8.

CAIRO, EGYPT 1225 HOURS 20 FEBRUARY 1943.

Captain Stanley S. Fine resisted the temptation to let Lt. Colonel Peter Dougla.s.s, Jr., who was riding as copilot, land the B-17F. Doug Dougla.s.s, despite the expected fighter pilot's denigration of the "flying barge," was obviously fascinated with the bomber. He would have liked to make the landing, and he probably would have handled it onto the wide and long runway without any trouble at all. He was an experienced pilot, and he had been an apt pupil.

But the moment they had taken off from Fersfield, Fine had been very much aware that they had crossed a line. From now on, everything was dead serious. There was no excuse whatever for taking any kind of a chance, no matter how slight.

Nothing had been said between them, but Dougla.s.s had seemed to understand and had conducted himself as a copilot should, making no control movements at all without first getting Fine's permission.

Fine set the B-17F down smoothly within two hundred feet of the threshold, then lowered it gently down onto the tail wheel.

"Call the tower?" Dougla.s.s's voice came over the intercom.

"Please," Fine said.

"Cairo, Army Triple Zero Four on the ground at twenty-five past the hour," Dougla.s.s said. "Request taxi instructions. "

"Triple Zero Four, take Taxiway Two Right and find yourself a place to park with the other B-17s on the line."

Dougla.s.s looked over at Fine. He was surprised. Ten minutes before, Cairo had acknowledged the "This is Eighth Air Force Flight Five Six Six" message that was supposed to alert OSS Cairo that they had arrived. Dougla.s.s did not expect the B-17 to be ordered to find itself a place to park with the other 17s on the line.

Fine looked surprised, too.

Dougla.s.s pressed the mike b.u.t.ton.

"Cairo, Triple Zero Four, say again your last transmission. You were garbled."

Cairo repeated the order.

There were a dozen B-17s and B-24s, and twice that many other transient aircraft on the parking line, but there was no sign of Canidy's B-25.

Fine taxied the B-17 to the end of the line, parked it in a line with another B-17, shut it down, and prepared the flight doc.u.ments.

A gas truck, a brand-new General Motors semitrailer, stopped just off the taxiway in front of them, and a crew got off and began to unroll fueling hoses.

"I'll go see what's going on," Fine said, unstrapping his harness. "I think we had better keep our pa.s.sengers aboard."

Fine opened the access hatch and lowered himself through it. Dougla.s.s went through the bomb bay into the rear of the fuselage. The team was peering out the gun ports.

"Colonel?" Janos asked. "Can we get off?"

"Not yet," Dougla.s.s said. "Somebody f.u.c.ked up. There's n.o.body here to meet us."

"That figures," Janos said.

It was already getting hot in the fuselage; Dougla.s.s felt sweat under his arms and on his forehead as he saw it pop out on Janos's face.

"f.u.c.k it," he said. "I don't see any point in melting. Get out, get in the shade of the wing, but don't stray off. And don't take anything with you."

He went to the side door in the fuselage and opened it, then waited until the last of the team had gotten out before getting out himself.

The team was gone when he got outside, and he saw that a Dodge ambulance had been backed up to the nose of the B-17. Normally, Dodge ambulance bodies had huge red crosses painted on their sides and roof; this one did not.

"You get to ride in front, Colonel," a voice called, and he saw a hand gesture toward the front of the vehicle.

Dougla.s.s walked to the ambulance and got in.

The driver was a sergeant, and Dougla.s.s had his mouth open to ask him where they were being taken when a familiar voice spoke.

"The s.h.i.+t's. .h.i.tting the fan."

Dougla.s.s looked into the back of the ambulance. The narrow benches on each side were jammed with people, and one of them was Lt. Commander John Dolan.

"Canidy went into Hungary," Dolan went on.

"Jesus!" Dougla.s.s said, then: "How are you? There was word you had a terminal case of the GIs."

"I'm better," Dolan said.

"Where are we going?"

"They got a villa," Dolan said. "Very nice, swimming pool and everything."

"Does anybody know why d.i.c.k went into Hungary?" Dougla.s.s asked.

"Does anybody know why he does anything?" Dolan replied. "They're trying to get a message to him to get his a.s.s out of there. Everything's on hold until we see if that works."

"Who's 'they're'?" Dougla.s.s asked.

"Donovan himself," Dolan said. "They're apparently really p.i.s.sed."

Wilkins, the Cairo Station Chief, was waiting for them at the villa. A lunch had been laid out for everyone at the side of the pool. There was no sense of urgency, and both Fine and Dougla.s.s were annoyed. But as they were eating, a distinguished-looking man in a stiffly starched but tieless s.h.i.+rt came to the table and handed Wilkins a sheet of paper.

Wilkins glanced at it, then handed it to Dougla.s.s.

"Sorry, Colonel," he said. "But I didn't know where exactly you fitted into this."

Dougla.s.s read it.

TOP SECRETFROM OSS WAs.h.i.+NGTON TO OSS CAIROLT COL PETER DOUGLa.s.s JR USAAC IS AUTHORIZED ACCESS TO SUCH CLa.s.sIFIED MATERIAL IN CONNECTION WITH CURRENT MISSION AS IS DEEMED ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY REPEAT ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY BY STATION CHIEF CAIRO AND PHARMACIST TWO DONOVAN.

"Well," Dougla.s.s said, "it's nice to know I'm to be trusted, if absolutely necessary."

Wilkins did not seem amused.

"I understand Donovan is p.i.s.sed at Canidy," Dougla.s.s said.

"I don't think 'p.i.s.sed' is the word," Wilkins said.

"If Canidy went into Hungary, he had his reasons," Dougla.s.s said loyally.

"I hope he finds his reasons worth it," Wilkins said.

"I don't think I follow you," Dougla.s.s said.

"Come with me," Wilkins said, "and you, too, Fine."

He led them to the pool house, where two radio operators sat with earphones on their heads. He motioned Fine and Dougla.s.s into chairs, then dropped to his knees, worked the combination of a safe, and handed Fine a cover sheet stamped TOP SECRET.

TOP SECRETOPERATIONAL IMMEDIATEFROM OSS WAs.h.i.+NGTON FOR OSS CAIRO EYES ONLY WILKINSPa.s.s FOLLOWING TO PHARMACIST TWO ON ARRIVAL CAIRO STOPQUOTE YOU ARE HEREBY APPOINTED EXLAX CONTROL CANIDY RELIEVED STOP APPOINTMENT IS PERMANENT STOP CANIDY WILL NOT REPEAT NOT RESUME AUTHORITY OVER EXLAX UNDER ANY CONDITIONS STOP EVERYTHING POSSIBLE INCLUDING TERMINATION REPEAT INCLUDING TERMINATION WILL BE DONE TO PREVENT CANIDY FALLING INTO ENEMY HANDS STOP YOU WILL ACKNOWLEDGE TIME AND DATE OF RECEIPT DONOVAN END QUOTE.

Fine read it and handed it to Dougla.s.s.

"Jesus, he is mad," Dougla.s.s said.

"You have a code word for a situation like this?" Wilkins asked Fine. "To acknowledge receipt?"

"Yes, I do," Fine said.

"You want to give it to me?" Wilkins asked, on the edge of sarcasm.

"I don't think I will," Fine said. "I don't want to acknowledge that message."

"What?" Wilkins asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure that was sent by Donovan," Fine said. "Before I acknowledge it, I want confirmation."

"That will take hours," Wilkins said.

"It doesn't sound like Donovan to me, either," Dougla.s.s said loyally.

"What the h.e.l.l are you trying to pull, Captain?" Wilkins demanded.

"Canidy was there," Fine said. "And he's not a fool. I certainly won't double-guess him, and I don't think Colonel Donovan would, either."

Wilkins opened his mouth to argue, but didn't get a chance to speak. One of the operators called out.

"Hey, I got something from Vis. . . . "

"What does it say?"

"It's not in the clear, for Christ's sake," the operator said, furiously pounding his typewriter.

Eight minutes later, the decryption process was completed: FROM POSTMAN FOR CAIRO VIA STATION VIII PHARMACIST REQUESTS EARLIEST POSSIBLE DROP RESCUE TEAM AT COORDINATES SEVEN FOUR NINE NINE THREE EIGHT ONE EIGHT STOP DROP MUST REPEAT MUST TAKE PLACE AT FIRST LIGHT STOP ADVISE.

It took another five minutes to find the map of Hungary and then mark the location indicated by the coordinates.

"We're how far from Vis?" Fine wondered aloud.

"Four hours thirty," Dougla.s.s said immediately. "In the B-25."

Using his thumb and little finger as a compa.s.s, Fine measured the distance between Vis and Pecs.

"That's about an hour and a quarter," he said. "Maybe a little less."

"What about that 'must take place at first light' business? " Dougla.s.s asked.

"Jesus," Fine said. "You're asking, how do we take off from Pecs in the dark?"

"Yeah," Dougla.s.s said. "But we don't have to take off from Pecs. We can take off from here."

"We don't have the range," Fine said.

"More than enough, if we sit down at Pecs on the way back," Dougla.s.s said.

Fine was silent for a moment.

Then he said, "Message Pharmacist as follows. Team will be available for drop first light tomorrow."

XII.

1.

PeCS, HUNGARY 1330 HOURS 20 FEBRUARY 1943.

What Canidy had imagined was going to be adequate accommodation in the large trunk of Standartenfuhrer-SS Muller's Opel Admiral quickly proved to be mildly, and then excruciatingly, uncomfortable.

Despite the generous proportions of the Admiral's trunk, he could not stretch his legs without arcing his torso painfully, nor raise himself on his elbows without simultaneously lowering his head so that his chin rested on his upper chest.

And the thick goose-down comforters and pillows that the Countess Batthyany had put into the trunk to keep him warm and serve as cus.h.i.+ons had not been as helpful as everyone had cheerfully, almost gaily, believed. The comforter had quickly crushed down under him, so that he could feel every ridge and indentation in the trunk floor. And the comforter he had wrapped around himself for warmth, and the pillows on which he had planned to cus.h.i.+on his head, made things worse than nothing at all, for they retained enough bulk to get in the way when he s.h.i.+fted his body again and again to relieve the strain on his muscles.

He became uneasy, nervous, worried, and he began to wonder if he had some previously unsuspected problem with claustrophobia. He reasoned that through and decided his nervousness was perfectly reasonable: He was in the dark, and n.o.body liked that.

More important, it was fifty-fifty that von Heurten-Mitnitz was wrong when he said he "rather doubted they would be stopped at all, or subjected to more than the most perfunctory examination if they were." There was a fifty-fifty chance that the trunk lid would suddenly open and he would find himself looking up at a Black Guard, a Hungarian cop, or even a Gestapo agent. If that happened, he was not going to be in a position to do much about it. The Sten submachine gun Captain Hughson had given him in Vis was now in the hands of an admiring Yugoslav partisan. Canidy was armed now only with the Fairbairn and a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson .38, neither of which would be of any real use if the car was stopped and checked. If that happened, in addition to being nearly paralyzed by the G.o.dd.a.m.ned trunk, he would be blinded by the sudden light and helpless.

There had been time to remember where he had gotten the snub-nosed .38, and that hadn't helped his morale either. Jimmy Whittaker had given it to him just before they'd taken off on the mission to the Belgian Congo. Moments before that, Jimmy had taken it away from the flight engineer. The flight engineer had been given the pistol by the Chief, OSS London Station, together with an order that he use it on Canidy the moment it looked as if Canidy was going to fall into enemy hands.