Part 12 (1/2)

”That girl doesn't know what she wants,” Whittaker said. ”For example, she has some absurd notion that she wants to go operational. When I saw her, she was all dressed up in fatigues and carrying a Springfield at port arms. I found her irresistible. I wonder what a psychiatrist would make of that?”

”You made your peace with Baker?” Donovan asked.

”I left,” Whittaker said. ”He's probably still mad.”

”You left?” Donovan asked, confused. ”You mean, when Ellis came for you?”

”I left about thirty minutes after I got there,” Whittaker said. ”I've been at the house.”

”I left orders that you were to be taken out there,” Donovan said coldly.

”Staley told me,” Whittaker said. ”He was pretty insistent. ”

Donovan looked at him coldly, waiting for a further explanation.

”I could offer some excuse, like I would probably have broken Baker's arms if I stayed, but the real reason I left was that Baker was acting as if he was controlling me.”

”That's what he's paid to do,” Donovan said sharply.

”I don't know what you've got planned for me, why I'm here and not in Australia, but if it means that Baker is my control, you're going to have to get yourself another boy.”

”You can be a real pain in the a.s.s sometimes, Jim,” Donovan said. ”And this is one of them. Just who the h.e.l.l do you think you're talking to?”

Whittaker's reply came a long moment later.

”I know I'm talking to the head of the OSS,” he said. ”Not Uncle Bill, who used to bounce me on his knee. I'm not asking for any special treatment. I don't know what my alternatives are, but whatever they are, I'll take them, rather than go anywhere with him as my control.”

Donovan glared at him.

”You have a reason for feeling that way, I presume?”

”There are two kinds of controls,” Whittaker said. ”Both profess great sadness when somebody gets bagged. One kind means it. Baker is the other kind. Baker is too willing to accept risks with somebody else's life. He sees 'the big picture' much too clearly.”

They locked eyes for a moment, and then Donovan asked, ”Did Ellis mention anything about dinner tonight?”

The question surprised Whittaker.

”No,” he said. ”He didn't.” Then he thought a moment. ”Don't tell me I'm to have dinner with Baker?”

”Not with Baker,” Donovan said. And then, when he was sure in his own mind that Ellis hadn't said anything about the dinner and that Whittaker in fact did not know, he added, ”With the President.”

”Oh?” Whittaker said.

”There will be no repet.i.tion, nothing remotely resembling a repet.i.tion of what happened the last time you had dinner with him,” Donovan said.

”I was a little crazy the last time,” Whittaker said. ”And I don't want to find myself locked up in a loony bin again.”

”You take my point,” Donovan said evenly.

Whittaker nodded. ”Is dinner his idea, or yours?” he asked.

”His idea,” Donovan said. ”But when I told him you were in Was.h.i.+ngton, I was pretty sure he'd want to see you.”

”You're being devious again,” Whittaker said.

”Trust me, Jimmy,” Donovan said, smiling.

”You, I trust,” Whittaker said. I trust,” Whittaker said.

”Ellis has some dossiers, and some other material, I want you to look at,” Donovan said. ”By the time you're finished, I should be finished here; and we can go over to the house.”

The President of the United States traveled from 1600 Pennsylvania to Emba.s.sy Row in a four-car convoy: There was a District of Columbia police car with flas.h.i.+ng red lights; then a black Chevrolet full of Secret Service agents; a 1939 Packard limousine (not the the presidential limousine); and finally another Chevrolet packed with Secret Service agents. presidential limousine); and finally another Chevrolet packed with Secret Service agents.

The gate in the wall was already open when the convoy arrived. The police car and the tailing Secret Service car pulled to the curb and stopped. The lead Secret Service car and the Packard drove through the gate, which closed immediately after them.

When the two cars stopped, two burly Secret Service agents half trotted to the limousine. One of them reached in and swung the President's feet outward. Then he hauled him from the car and erect. Then he and the other agent, with an ease born of practice, made a cradle of their locked arms and carried him to and up the kitchen stairs. By the time they got there, a third Secret Service agent had taken a collapsible wheelchair from the trunk of the Chevrolet, trotted with it to the kitchen, and had it unfolded and waiting when the President was carried to it.

”One of you,” the President of the United States said, ”smells of something that didn't come out of an after-shave bottle. 'My Sin'?”

The burly Secret Service agent now pus.h.i.+ng the wheelchair chuckled.

”No comment, Mr. President,” he said.

The other agent trotted ahead and pushed open doors until he reached the double sliding doors to the library, both of which he slid open.

”Is this the place with the booze?” the President asked as he was rolled in.

Donovan and Whittaker, who had been sitting on identical couches at right angles to a carved sandstone fireplace, stood up.

”Good evening, Mr. President,” Donovan said.

”That'll be all, Casey,” the President said. ”If I need it, the Colonel can push me around.”

The Secret Service agent left the room, closing the double doors carefully behind him.

”Well, Jimmy,” the President said. ”You look a h.e.l.l of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

”Good whiskey and fast women, Uncle Frank,” Whittaker said.

He went to Roosevelt and offered his hand. Roosevelt ignored it. He gripped his arms with both hands, and with strength that always surprised Whittaker, forced his body down so that his face was level with Roosevelt's. Roosevelt studied him intently for a moment, and then, nodding his head in approval, let him go.

”Chesty would be very proud of you,” the President said. ”I am.”

He let that sink in a moment, then changed the tone. ”I had a letter from Jimmy,” he said. ”You know about Jimmy?” James Roosevelt, the President's eldest son, was commissioned in the USMC. He was second in command of the Marine Raiders in the Pacific.

”Somebody talked him into joining the Marines,” Whittaker said. ”I thought he was smarter than that.”

Roosevelt laughed heartily.

”I think he was taken with the uniform,” he said. ”Anyway, he asked about you.”