The Fighting Agents Part 47

"It's time we thought of the worst possible scenario," he said. "That should be plural. The first thing that can go badly wrong-and I am frankly surprised this hasn't already happened-is that they will find out who Fulmar and the Professor really are. . . . "

"Colonel," Stevens began.

"Let me finish, please, Ed," Donovan said. "The best we could hope for in that situation would be that the Germans would decide we wanted Dyer for what he knows about jet- and rocket-engine metallurgy. That they would not suspect that what we're really after is getting nuclear-useful people out of Germany."

"Yes, Sir," Stevens said.

"The second thing that could go wrong would be for Canidy to be captured. Quite aside from what else he knows, I think we have to consider that the Germans know full well who he is-that he's the number three here-and would decide that we are either very interested in Professor Dyer, or, I'm afraid, that there is more to all this activity than is immediately apparent."

Stevens didn't reply.

"I think I have to say this, Ed," Donovan said. "On reflection, I think I made an error in judgment. I think what I should have ordered-to cut our losses to the minimum- was to give the Germans Fulmar and the professor."

Stevens didn't reply.

"Or alternatively, to arrange for them to be eliminated. On reflection, that's what should have been done. There are two ways to do that. The first would be to message Canidy to do it. I don't know if that would work. If he went in there without orders, in direct defiance of orders, I don't think we can expect him to obey any other order he doesn't like."

"Canidy is not a fool," Stevens said loyally.

"Sometimes I wonder about that," Donovan said. "The second way to ensure that the Germans don't get to question Fulmar and the professor is to bomb St. Gertrud's prison."

"Canidy's thought of that. He asked for Composition C- 2."

"I meant by aircraft," Donovan said. "A raid on Budapest. Failing to reach the target, a squadron of B-17s would bomb an alternative target. A target of opportunity. Pecs. That happens all the time."

"That's a little far-fetched, isn't it?" Stevens said.

"It's laid on for tomorrow," Donovan said. "Presuming the weather permits. If not tomorrow, the day after. I have been a.s.sured-there is only minimal antiaircraft around Pecs, they can go in low-that there is a seventy-five-percent chance that the prison can be taken out completely. Totally destroyed."

"My G.o.d!"

"You know what's involved with this," Donovan said. "I don't see I have any alternative. Do you?"

"No, Sir," Stevens said after a moment.

"With that scenario," Donovan said, "there is the possibility that the team, and Canidy, can get out."

"Yes, Sir."

"If he does," Donovan said, "by the time I've finished with him, he may wish he was still in Hungary."

"Sir," Stevens said. "From his perspective, I'm sure he thought he was doing the right thing."

After a moment, Donovan said, "I'm surprised to hear you say that, Ed. I thought by now you would have figured out that 'the right thing' has absolutely no meaning for the OSS. We do what has to be done, and 'right' has absolutely nothing to do with that."

He raised his voice.

"You can take us to Berkeley Square now, please, Ellis."

When they got there, Captain Helene Dancy was waiting for them with a just-decrypted message:

TOP SECRET.

OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE.

FROM STATION VIII FOR OSS LONDON.

C47 THREE HOURS OVERDUE HERE STOP TOTAL FUEL.

EXPENDITURE OCCURRED NOT LATER THAN 0800.

LONDON TIME STOP MUST PRESUME AIRCRAFT LOST.

STOP INASMUCH AS SUCCESSFUL DROP SIGNAL.

UNRECEIVED MUST PRESUME FAILURE STOP UNABLE.

ESTABLISH CONTACT YACHTSMAN OR PHARMACIST STOP.

ADVISE STOP PHARMACIST II.

Donovan read it, then handed it to Stevens.

The C-47 with Dolan and Darmstadter was lost. And the worst possible scenario: before they had been able to drop the OSS team.

"I think you'd better radio him to come home," Donovan said. "And message Wilkins to arrange for a ferry crew for the B-17. I don't want to lose that, too."

3.

127 DEGREES 20 MINUTES WEST LONGITUDE 07 DEGREES 35 MINUTES NORTH LAt.i.tUDE 0600 HOURS 21 FEBRUARY 1943.

The Drum Drum was on the surface. In these waters, off the eastern sh.o.r.e of Mindanao, the risk of a submarine on the surface being spotted by j.a.panese aircraft and patrol boats was almost unacceptable. But surfacing had been necessary. There was no way to attempt to contact the American guerrilla radio station from a submerged boat. was on the surface. In these waters, off the eastern sh.o.r.e of Mindanao, the risk of a submarine on the surface being spotted by j.a.panese aircraft and patrol boats was almost unacceptable. But surfacing had been necessary. There was no way to attempt to contact the American guerrilla radio station from a submerged boat.

In these circ.u.mstances, when the life of his boat was literally at stake, Lt. Commander Edwin R. Lennox ordinarily would have exercised command from the bridge on the conning tower, where he could make the decisions (including the ultimate decision: to dive and run or stay and fight). But Lt. Bill Rutherford, the Drum Drum's exec, was on the bridge and had the conn, and Lennox was below, leaning against the bulkhead. He, Captain Whittaker, and Lt. Hammersmith were watching as Radioman Second Joe Garvey tried to establish contact with U.S. forces in the Philippines.

Once he had learned that Joe Garvey was not really a motion-picture photographer, Lennox had wondered how good a radioman Garvey could be-he looked to be about seventeen years old-and how the boyish sailor was going to fare when they put him ash.o.r.e on Mindanao.

The first question had been answered when they had been under way only a few days. The Drum Drum's chief radioman, into whose care Garvey had been entrusted, a salty old submariner not given to complimenting his peers, had volunteered the information that "Garvey really knows his stuff." From the chief radioman, that was tantamount to comparing Garvey to Marconi.

Lennox had noticed the two of them together frequently after that, with the innards of a radio spread out in front of them, and he had overheard several of their conversations, of which he had understood very little.

But he understood the problem Garvey and his chief radioman were trying to solve. The first part of it was that the American guerrillas were operating a homemade radio, and establis.h.i.+ng contact with it using the radios available on the Drum Drum might prove difficult. might prove difficult.

And then once-if-they made it safely ash.o.r.e, the next problem was the radio Garvey was carrying. They intended to replace the guerrillas' homemade radio with equipment capable of reliable communications to Australia, Hawaii, and the States. What they had was a new, apparently not fully tested "transceiver," a device weighing only sixty pounds, including an electrical generation system that was pedaled like a stationary bicycle.

But that was several steps away. What had to be done now was to let the guerrillas know, and to keep the j.a.panese from learning, that Whittaker and his team were coming ash.o.r.e-and where, and when.

Solving that problem had nothing to do with the esoterics of radio-wave propagation in the twenty-meter band.

Joe Garvey had been sending a short message twice, and then listening for a response, and then sending twice again, and then listening again:

KFH FOR WYZB.

FOR GENERAL FERTIG.

RELAY WRISt.w.a.tCH.

QUOTE POLO COMING FOR NORTH PUERTO RICAN.

c.o.c.kTAILS TODAY END QUOTE.

ACKNOWLEDGE KFH BY.

The message, Captain Jim Whittaker had explained, would be delivered to Master Sergeant George Withers, whom he had left on Bataan, and who was now with Fertig on Mindanao. "Wrist.w.a.tch" made reference to the watch Whittaker had taken from his wrist and given to Withers just before he had left him.

"Polo" was simple. Jim Whittaker had been a polo player, and was known by that nickname.

Whittaker was sure that Withers and Fertig would understand that "c.o.c.ktails" meant "at the c.o.c.ktail hour." Whether they interpreted that to mean five P.M., or any hour up to eight or nine, didn't matter. If they were on the beach where Polo was coming at the c.o.c.ktail hour, they would wait until the last hope he was coming was gone.

The tricky part of the message was "Puerto Rican c.o.c.ktails." Whittaker said he was banking on Whithers being initially baffled by that, saying aloud to find a meaning.

Puerto Rico? Puerto Rico? Puerto Rico?

"Word a.s.sociation, Skipper," Whittaker had said. "What's the first thing that pops into your mind when you think 'Puerto Rico'?"

"Rum," Commander Lennox said immediately.

"Think geographically," Whittaker said.

"San Juan, I guess," Lennox had said. "But I knew about San Juan."

It was Whittaker's intention to go ash.o.r.e north of the small city of San Juan on the eastern sh.o.r.e of Mindanao at six, just before darkness fell.

"They will be thinking geographically," Whittaker said firmly. "They'll get it, all right. The message isn't what's bothering me."

"Something is bothering you?" Lennox asked sarcastically. "I can't imagine what that would be."

"Well, for one thing, we don't seem to be getting any reply, " Whittaker said dryly, "which could mean that either Garvey's radio isn't working; or that Fertig's radio isn't working; or that Fertig's people just aren't listening; or if you insist on taking counsel of your fears, that they have been killed or captured by the j.a.panese."

"And what if they have been, Jim?" Lennox asked, very seriously. "What are you going to do if you can't raise them on the radio? Try again tomorrow?"

"I've thought about that," Whittaker said, now as serious as Lennox. "Garvey tells me that the signal he is sending is strong enough to be picked up all over the island. That means that other Americans, or at least Filipinos friendly to him, have heard the message and will get it to him. And so, of course, have the j.a.panese. I don't want to give the j.a.panese any more time to play word a.s.sociation than I already have. I want to go ash.o.r.e at six tonight."

Lennox nodded.

It was, he realized, the first order Whittaker had given him that was not open to suggestion or argument.

"I think I'm going to go up to the bridge," he said, then added without thinking about it, "if you don't need me?"

"No, go ahead," Whittaker said absently.

Commander Lennox had just reached the ladder to the conning tower when the Klaxon sounded and the speaker's voice came over the loudspeakers: "j.a.panese aircraft ninety degrees three miles! Dive! Dive!"

4.

DROP ZONE ASPIRIN NEAR PeCS, HUNGARY 0535 HOURS 21 FEBRUARY 1943.

Lt. Hank Darmstadter walked down the slanting floor of the C-47 to where Canidy knelt, with his ear to the chest of Lt. Commander John Dolan, USNR.

"Is he dead?" he asked softly.

Canidy straightened, still on his knees, and nodded.

"What the h.e.l.l were you thinking of, sitting down?" Canidy asked.

"He had an attack just before we landed at Cairo from Vis," Darmstadter said, and then answered Canidy's question: "I couldn't kick the equipment bags out myself."

Two of the parachutists appeared at the door of the aircraft. They had stripped out of their black coveralls and except for the carbines they held in their hands looked like civilians.

"Jesus!" one of them said when he saw Dolan.

Canidy got off his knees and looked around the cabin for something to put over Dolan's body. He saw nothing.

"Give them the equipment bags," Canidy said to Darmstadter, then turned to the team. "Take them into the woods. I don't suppose there's an ax in there?"

"Whole f.u.c.king kit of engineer tools. Even a power saw," one of them replied as Darmstadter lowered one of the long, padded bags onto his shoulders.

"And C-2?" Canidy asked.

"Hundred pounds of C-2, in two-pound blocks," the parachutist said as he headed for the cover of the pine forest, staggering under the weight.

The second parachutist took a bag as the other two members of the team trotted up.