Then it would be back to Harding in Sicily, unless Uncle Ike needed me for something else. Maybe a colonel stealing a general's scotch, or a visiting congressman getting mugged in the Casbah. Either way, I'd be back in trouble soon enough.
Harry had been given two weeks' leave for his troubles, time for his leg to fully heal, and had talked his way onto an RAF flight to England. Kaz was staying with Harding, waiting for something else to keep him amused while he decided if he wanted to live another day or so. He 'd seen me off at the airfield, and I watched his hand for any telltale shakes. There was nothing, no hint of any break in the shell. But I knew. I knew his heart would never heal. I knew too what a good and true friend he was to me, to watch me leave, knowing I would soon be reunited with Daphne's sister. I'd be in her arms tonight, and Kaz would be sitting outside Harding's HQ, his scarred face turned to the stars, dreaming of Daphne. Alone.
Not for the first time, I wondered at my good fortune, and Diana's. We were alive. After Dunkirk, after Norway, North Africa, and now Sicily, we still had each other. I'd been a fool to let my worries come between us, my rage at Villard and my juvenile, insane, perverse fear of what being raped had done to her. Or to me. It had hurt both of us, and now it was time for me to put it behind us. If I could.
Didn't it say something in the Bible about the truth? Know the truth, and it will set you free? Sometimes I think being a cop made me too literal, always looking for physical evidence, a confession, the stolen silverware. Real things, not concepts like freedom and the truth. I'm not a slave, so why do I need the truth to free me?
Big Mike had gotten over his terror and was zonked out, sawing logs. Sciafani watched the clouds, and I felt the ache in my gut as I thought about Diana. Half fear, half joy. Not the best mix.
The drone of the engines dulled my thoughts until I fell into a half sleep, startled by every patch of rough air. Finally we began descending, the North African coast visible below us, clear blue water churning up white foamy waves on sandy beaches. Peaceful, sandy beaches. We touched down at an airfield outside of Amilcar, north of Tunis. General Eisenhower didn't have a full staff here. Forward HQ occupied a villa overlooking the ocean. I don't know how nice it was for the WACs and GIs living in tents behind the villa, but the senior staff sure liked it.
And a staff car was waiting for us. It brought me straight to headquarters, dropped me off, and took Big Mike and Sciafani to the tent they had assigned us. I walked up the front steps, returning the salutes of the two guards by the door. As I entered, I had to pass Uncle Ike's toughest guard post. That was the desk of Sergeant Sue Sarafian, secretary and receptionist to the general. With the general and other senior officers, Sue and the others were always formal, calling them by their rank. It had taken me a while, but I finally convinced her to call me Billy.
"Welcome back, Billy," Sue said, gracing me with a smile. "The boss is expecting you."
"Thanks, Sue. Who else is here from Algiers?"
"Tex is with the boss, and I'm sure you know Ensign Seaton is here. She's at a briefing with General Clark but will be back this evening. There's going to be a dinner party. When the boss heard you were coming, he decided to go all out. Now get in there and don't keep him waiting!"
This last part was delivered in a conspiratorial whisper. The girls in Uncle Ike's office worked around the clock. They were there when he showed up early in the morning and only left after he did, late in the evening. The mess tent was usually shut down by then, so food was a source of endless discussion. Especially any food different from the usual army fare. I knew Sue was glad to see me, but what she was excited about was the possibility of a real meal.
I knocked on Uncle Ike's door and it was opened by Captain Tex Lee, the general's aide.
"Go on in, Billy, we're all done," Tex said as he held the door for me.
I stepped into the room and came to attention. "General," I said, standing as straight as I could. I never assumed he wanted to be informal. There were times when he was "the boss," as Sue called him, when he had to be the commanding officer and not a relative. I was careful to let him be the one to set the tone.
"William," he said, standing up from his desk and crushing out a cigarette. "How are you, son? Sit, sit."
He gestured to two chairs facing a window overlooking the courtyard. The white stucco gleamed in the bright sun against a deep blue sky. I sat, trying to stop myself from relaxing. The last week or so was catching up to me.
"How are you feeling? I heard you'd lost your memory for a while. Are you all right now?"
"Yes, sir, it all came back after a few days. I'm fine now."
"When we met on the road in Sicily, how long was that after it happened?"
"Not long, sir. I'm afraid I was a bit mixed up then. I knew who you were, but I still didn't have everything straightened out."
"My God, William," Uncle Ike said, sitting back and lighting another one of the Lucky Strikes that he smoked by the gross. "Wandering around Sicily trying to figure out who you were, and you still completed your mission. Amazing. Patton went through the mountains to Palermo like a hot knife through butter after your visit with that Mafia fellow. I'm not saying it was all due to your efforts- Georgie and his boys are doing a fine job-but not having to stop and clear out every mountain crossroads has saved us time and lives."
"That's what I told Don Calo." As I said it, I wondered about Signora Patane and whether the tubercolosi had taken her yet. Was Signor Patane pressing the dried herbs in the kitchen to his nose right now, remembering the smell of them on her hands as she tied them?
"Did it make a difference to him? Saving Allied lives?"
I knew Uncle Ike didn't mean to leave out Sicilian lives. American and British were the ones he was responsible for, the lives he thought about every day. To add to them the burden of civilian lives in an enemy country was more than I could bear to think about.
"Yes. Yes, it did."
"William, are you sure you feel all right?"
"Yes, sir. I'm OK. A good night's sleep and I'll be ready to go."
"I'm sure the past week has put a lot of stress on you. Major Harding has you set for a medical exam tomorrow. Let the doctors check you out and tell me what they say. If you need a rest, you can stay here a while. Take Miss Seaton to the beach, go for a swim. How does that sound?"
"Great, Uncle Ike. Thanks."
He rose and placed a hand on my shoulder and stared out the window. It was something he did often, whether it was at Grosvenor Square in London, the St. George Hotel in Algiers, or here in Amilcar. It was as if he were watching for a sign or a judgment. I couldn't tell which, or if he hoped for or feared it.
"We've come a long way, William, since London."
"Yes, sir." I didn't think he meant the two of us.
"We've occupied enemy soil and toppled Mussolini. The King of Italy has appointed Badoglio prime minister. Italians are surrendering everywhere. There's a good chance they'll come into the war on our side. All because of our success in Sicily. And you played a vital role in that, William."
"Yes, sir."
"You've already done more than most of my generals. I wish I could promise you more than a few days' rest. You've proved your worth to me, William. But it's still a long way to Berlin, and I'm going to need you to help us get there."
"Every day, a little closer to Berlin, General," I said, remembering what I had told Remke, and trying not to think about what the future held for me. It came out choked, like a line you rehearsed a hundred times but blew when you tried to say it.
"That's the spirit, William. The harder we work at this, the sooner more of us will be home again."