The Fighting Agents Part 2

Ellis nodded, but then explained. "Baker got to the Colonel," he said. "Everybody who comes into the OSS gets run through that school. For a while, I thought they were going to make me go."

"What exactly is this 'OSS'?"

"It stands for 'Office of Strategic Services,' " Ellis said. "It's sort of like the FBI and Office of Naval Intelligence put together, plus Errol Flynn in one of them war movies where he parachutes behind enemy lines and takes on the whole j.a.p army by himself."

"Give me a for example," Staley said.

"The school was supposed to teach you Rule One around here," Ellis said. "You don't ask questions. If they figure you should know something, they'll tell you. You ask the wrong questions around here, and you'll wind up counting s...o...b..a.l.l.s on Attu."

"Can I ask what you do around here?" Staley asked.

"I'm on the books as 'Special a.s.sistant to the Director, ' " Ellis said. "What that means is that I do everything and anything that makes life easier for him, and keeps him from wasting his time. And what you're going to do is help me do that."

"Plus being a bodyguard, you said," Staley said.

"We don't talk about that," Ellis said. "He's got body-guards, mostly ex-FBI guys and ex-Secret Service guys. And he ducks away from them whenever he can. That's That's when you cover him. Get the picture?" when you cover him. Get the picture?"

Staley nodded. "I get the feeling you get along pretty good with him."

"I never met anybody smarter or nicer," Ellis said flatly. "Or who works harder."

"How come I got this job?"

"The Colonel came in here about two weeks ago," Ellis said, "and found me working about midnight. And he said, 'I thought I told you to get some help.' And he sounded like he meant it. So I asked myself, Do I want some FBI guy who looks down his nose at a sailor and is going to be p.i.s.sed when he has to take orders from me? And unless I could think of something else, that's what was going to happen. So I called the Navy, BuPers, and told them to find me ex-China Sailors in the States."

"You told told the Navy?" Staley asked. the Navy?" Staley asked.

Ellis, grunting, took a small leather wallet from his hip pocket and handed it to Staley.

"It means what it says on there," he said. "You carry one of those things, everybody in the government, civilian agencies, as well as any military, has got to give you what you ask for. If they don't like it, they can b.i.t.c.h, later, after they give you what you ask for."

"Jesus Christ!" Staley said, and handed the OSS credentials back.

"You're going to get one of those," Ellis said. "You f.u.c.k up with it, Charley, we'll send you someplace that'll make Portsmouth navy prison look like heaven. And no second chances. You read me?"

"Loud and clear, Chief," Staley said.

"You're also going to get a badge and credentials saying you're a deputy U.S. marshal. That's in case anybody asks why you're carrying a gun. You try to get by with that. I mean, you don't show the OSS credentials until you don't have any other choice. You understand?"

Staley nodded.

"Same thing applies to the marshal's credentials. f.u.c.k up with them once, and you're finished."

"Okay, okay," Staley said.

"So like I was saying, the Navy found you in Great Lakes, and I remembered that we always got along pretty good, and that you weren't as dumb as you look, so I told them to see if you would volunteer. And you did. And you got through the school all right, and here you are."

"Yeah," Staley said. "Here I am."

"You can walk out of here right now, Charley," Ellis said. "I'll get you any billet you want in the Navy. But if you stay, you're here for good. And there's liable to be more to it before we're done than driving the Colonel's Buick."

He looked at Staley and waited for a response.

"I'm in, Chief," Staley said.

Ellis nodded and then dialed one of the three telephones on his desk.

"I'm sending a guy named Staley down there," he said. "Get him credentials, and take him by the arms room and get him a .45 and a shoulder holster, and then take him over to the house."

He hung the phone up.

"You'll get a rations and quarters allowance from the Navy," Ellis said, "and a rations and quarters allowance from us. Otherwise you would wind up sleeping on a park bench and starving. Until you can find someplace to live, we'll put you up in the garage at the house."

"The house?"

"It's a mansion over in Rock Creek we have," Ellis explained. "There's a couple of apartments over the garage. Nice. Get yourself settled, and then come back here in the morning. I probably shouldn't have to tell you this, but I will. There's two women at the house. They're absolutely off-limits."

"Got it," Staley said.

"You fixed all right for money?" Ellis asked.

"Fine."

Ellis pushed a lever on the intercom.

"Will you have somebody take Staley to the photolab, please?" he said, then gestured for Staley to leave.

Ellis was pleased with the way things had turned out with Staley. It had been a risk, recruiting him. But he'd done well in the school (that sonofab.i.t.c.h Baker had even been impressed; he'd called and said he had a job for Staley if what he was going to do in Was.h.i.+ngton was "relatively unimportant"), and now that Ellis had talked to him, he thought he could handle what was expected of him here, and, very important, that he would get along with the Colonel. He hadn't been worried about how Staley would get along with Captain Peter Dougla.s.s, Sr., USN, Donovan's deputy (a Navy petty officer and a Navy officer would understand each other), but the Colonel might have been a problem.

Colonel "Wild Bill" Donovan had been one h.e.l.l of a soldier in his day. He'd won the Medal of Honor in France with the "Fighting 69th," the National Guard regiment from New York City. Between wars, he'd been a rich and powerful lawyer in New York City and Was.h.i.+ngton. He had little patience for people he decided were fools. But Staley was no fool. The way he'd handled himself at the school and the way he acted now had proved that. He would fit in.

Ellis thought of his responsibilities-now to be shared with Staley and maybe even a couple of others, if he could find the right men-rather simply: It was his job to make things easier for the Colonel. Sometimes that meant he would fry up ham and eggs in the kitchen of the Colonel's Georgetown town house. And sometimes it meant that he went around the world with the Colonel, serving as bodyguard and confidant and sort of private secretary and transportation officer. You name it, he did it.

And he got to learn a lot. He was supposed supposed to read everything the Colonel read, so that if he had to do something for the Colonel, the Colonel wouldn't have to waste his time explaining things. Some of the stuff he had to read was really pretty dull, but sometimes it was interesting. As far as he had been able to figure out, there was only one secret the Colonel knew that he didn't. Ellis had concluded that Captain Dougla.s.s knew that secret, because when Ellis had started getting nosy, Dougla.s.s got his back up. to read everything the Colonel read, so that if he had to do something for the Colonel, the Colonel wouldn't have to waste his time explaining things. Some of the stuff he had to read was really pretty dull, but sometimes it was interesting. As far as he had been able to figure out, there was only one secret the Colonel knew that he didn't. Ellis had concluded that Captain Dougla.s.s knew that secret, because when Ellis had started getting nosy, Dougla.s.s got his back up.

That secret had something to do with what an Army brigadier general named Leslie Groves was doing at a secret base in the Tennessee mountains with something called uranium. That's what he'd asked Captain Dougla.s.s, "What's uranium?"

That's what had gotten Dougla.s.s's back up.

"Now hear this clearly, Chief. You don't ask that question. You don't mention the word 'uranium' to me, or to Colonel Donovan, and certainly not to anyone else. You understand that?"

"Aye, aye, Sir."

Ellis was confident that when the time came, he would find out what uranium was, and what General Groves was doing with it.

Some of the interesting things that came with the job had nothing to do with secrets.

What he had been doing when Staley had reported in, for example. He had been reading the Mainichi. Mainichi. He didn't think there were very many other people who got to do that. The He didn't think there were very many other people who got to do that. The Mainichi Mainichi was the English-language newspaper published in Tokyo. The edition he had in his hands was only ten days old. Ellis wondered how the h.e.l.l they managed to get one in ten days halfway around the world from the j.a.p capital. But they did. And they did it regularly. was the English-language newspaper published in Tokyo. The edition he had in his hands was only ten days old. Ellis wondered how the h.e.l.l they managed to get one in ten days halfway around the world from the j.a.p capital. But they did. And they did it regularly.

It was full of bulls.h.i.+t, of course.

For example, there was a story in the Mainichi Mainichi today that troops under some j.a.p general with an unp.r.o.nounceable name had destroyed the headquarters of Major General Fertig on Mindanao, killed General Fertig, and sent the rest of his troops running off to the mountains to starve. today that troops under some j.a.p general with an unp.r.o.nounceable name had destroyed the headquarters of Major General Fertig on Mindanao, killed General Fertig, and sent the rest of his troops running off to the mountains to starve.

The reason Ellis knew the story was pure bulls.h.i.+t was that he had been at a briefing in the situation room when guerrilla activity in the Philippines had been discussed. A full-bull colonel-a guy who had gotten out of the Philippines with MacArthur and then had been sent to Was.h.i.+ngton as a liaison officer and who should know what he was talking about-had said that while there was a chance that small units of a dozen or so men could evade j.a.panese capture for as long as several months, there was no possibility of organized "militarily significant" guerrilla activity in the Philippines.

And there was no General Fertig. Ellis had checked that out himself. The only guy named Fertig in the Philippines was a light colonel, a reserve officer reliably reported to have blown himself up taking down a bridge.

According to the Mainichi, Mainichi, this nonexistent general had at least a regiment, which the j.a.ps wiped out to the last man at least once a week. this nonexistent general had at least a regiment, which the j.a.ps wiped out to the last man at least once a week.

The messenger appeared in Chief Ellis's office with the distribution. The messenger was an Army warrant officer in civilian clothes. There was no love lost between them. The warrant officer naturally wondered how come he was wandering around the halls of the National Inst.i.tutes of Health, delivering the mail like a PFC clerk, while this swab-jockey got to sit around with his feet on a desk reading a newspaper.

Ellis signed his name twenty-seven times, acknowledging receipt of twenty-seven Top Secret doc.u.ments, each of which had to be accounted for separately, and then signed twice more for a batch of Secret, and Confidential, Files.

When the messenger had gone, he scanned the t.i.tles of the Top Secret doc.u.ments. He recognized every one of them. They had been here before. Then he read the t.i.tles of the Secret doc.u.ments and scanned through the half dozen he had not seen before. Finally, he turned to the Confidential t.i.tles and saw nothing of interest except the regular of-possible -interest memorandum, which Ellis thought of as the "What-the-h.e.l.l-Is-This? List."

This was a compilation of intelligence data that didn't fit into any of the established categories. A report that the Germans had bought a ferryboat in Spain, for example. Or that the Italian Gendarmerie had lost another battle against the Mafia in Sicily. It had come to someone's attention in one of the intelligence agencies. He hadn't known what to do with it, but maybe somebody else could make something of it. When that happened, it was circulated on the of-possible-interest memorandum.

Ellis read it faithfully. And his eyebrows went up when he came to item six: 1:6. The Presidio of San Francisco has received from Mare Island Communications Facility an encrypted message transmitted by an unknown station operating in the 20-meter band. The message was encrypted using an apparently captured M94 encryption device.The message was addressed to "U.S. Forces in Australia."The decrypted message follows: We Have the Hot p.o.o.p from the Hot Yanks in the Phils. Fertig Brig GenThe station identified itself with the call letters MFS and reported itself standing by.Comment: There is no station with call letters MFS. There is no General officer in the USA or USMC by the name of Fertig. This is therefore presumed to be a j.a.panese subterfuge. No attempt to contact the calling station has been made.

Chief Ellis called the office of the adjutant general in the Pentagon, where he ascertained that there was no confirmed report of the death of Lt. Colonel Wendell W. Fertig, or that he had been captured. His status was missing and presumed dead. He got the name and telephone number of Colonel Fertig's next of kin, Mrs. Mary Fertig, his wife, in Golden, Colorado.

And then he took a red grease pencil and drew a box around Item 6 on the What-the-h.e.l.l-Is-This? List, tore that sheet from the file, and moved it to the top of the stack of Top Secret doc.u.ments. Then he carefully scissored the clipping about the glorious victory of j.a.panese forces over Major General Fertig from the Mainichi Mainichi and stapled that to the What-the-h.e.l.l-Is-This? List. and stapled that to the What-the-h.e.l.l-Is-This? List.

Twenty minutes later, Colonel William Donovan marched into the office, his face betraying that the morning session at the White House had been difficult.

"I would kill for a cup of coffee," he greeted Ellis as he walked past his desk.

When Ellis carried the coffee into the office, Donovan was dangling the page torn from the What-the-h.e.l.l-Is-This? List between his thumb and forefinger.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" he asked.

"I think it's interesting," Ellis said.

"You want to try to call that station back?" Donovan asked.

Ellis nodded.

"Have it done," Colonel Donovan ordered.

"Colonel, things get lost in proper channels," Ellis said.

Donovan considered that a moment.

"Meaning you want to go out to California?"

"I could be back in three days," Ellis said. "Before it got there through channels."

"You have a gut feeling, Chief?" Donovan asked.

"Yes, Sir, you could put it that way."

"Okay," Donovan said.

Chief Ellis called the chief at Flight Operations at Anacostia Naval Air Station, on the other side of the District of Columbia.

"Hey, Chief, how they hanging? This is Chief Ellis."

"How's my favorite China Sailor? What are you trying to beat me out of today?"

"I need a seat for somebody very important on the next plane to Mare Island."

"Is he self-important, or just very important?"

"Actually, he's a pretty good guy."

"Reason I ask is I got a half-dozen torpedo bombers being ferried from Baltimore to load on a carrier at Mare Island. If this guy's not too ritzy to ride in a torpedo bomber . . ."

"From Anacostia or Baltimore?"

"Here. They're picking up people here. That's how I know about it."

"When?"

"How soon can he get here?"

"He's on his way."

4.

UNITED STATES NAVY BASE, MARE ISLAND SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA 12 JANUARY 1943.

The radioman second had seen the base commander only once before, and then he had been riding by in his Navy gray Packard Clipper with its three-starred vice admiral's plate.

And now here he was, in the radio room, looking right at him.

"Stand at ease, son," the Admiral said, almost kindly. "This is Chief Ellis, and he wants to ask you some questions. "

"You picked up a message from somebody calling themselves MFS, right?"

"That's right, Chief."

"You heard them again?"