"I wish I was going with you," Pluto Hon said.
Pickering was surprised. It was the first time Pluto had even suggested he was familiar with the contents of one of Pickering’s messages. He was, of course-you read what you type-but the rules of the little game were that everyone pretended the cryptographer didn’t know.
"Why?"
"It’s liable to be as dull here as it was in Melbourne," Pluto said.
"I could probably arrange to have you dropped onto some island behind Japanese lines," Pickering joked. "They’re short of people, I know."
"I already asked Major Banning," Pluto replied, seriously. "He said I could go the day after you let him go. ‘We also serve who sit in dark basements shuffling paper.’ "
"It’s more than that, Pluto, and you know it," Pickering said, and touched his shoulder.
"Good night, Sir," Lieutenant Hon said.
Pickering walked back through the basement, then up to the lobby and to the security desk, where, after duty hours, it was necessary to produce identification and sign in and out.
"There he is," a female voice said as he scrawled his name on the register.
I am losing my mind. That sounded exactly like Ellen Feller.
He straightened and turned around.
"Good evening, Captain Pickering," Ellen Feller said.
"I hope you have some influence around here, Captain," Captain David Haughton said, as he offered Pickering his hand, smiling at his surprise. "We have just been told there is absolutely no room in the inn."
"Haughton, what the hell are you doing here?" Pickering asked. He looked at Ellen Feller. "And you, Ellen?"
"I’m on my way to Admiral Ghormley in Auckland. They’re servicing the plane. Ellen’s for duty."
"For duty?" Pickering asked her. "What do you mean?"
"I was asked if I would be willing to come here," Ellen Feller said. "I was."
Jesus Christ, what the hell is this all about?
"The boss arranged it," Haughton said. "In one of your letters you said something about not having a secretary. So he sent you one. Yours."
"You don’t seem very pleased to see me, Captain Pickering," Ellen said.
"Don’t be silly. Of course I am," Pickering said.
"Your billeting people are being difficult," Haughton said. "I tried to get Ellen a room in the hotel . . . Lennon’s?"
"Lennon’s," Pickering confirmed.
"And they say she’s not on their staff, and no room."
"I can take care of that," Pickering said.
"I tried to invoke your name, and they gave me a room number. But the door was opened by a fat Army officer who said he hadn’t seen you since Melbourne."
"I’ve got a cottage just outside of town. We can stay there tonight, and I’ll get this all sorted out in the morning. Christ, no I won’t either. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. But I’ll make some phone calls tonight."
"Where are you going?"
"To the rehearsal," Pickering said. "I just sent Knox a letter
Ellen Feller read his mind.
"I’ve taken care of everything in Hawaii. If it’s in Hawaii now, it will be on his desk, decrypted, in three hours."
"Have you got a car?" Haughton asked.
Pickering nodded. "Why?"
"Well, Ellen’s luggage is still at the airfield. If you’ve got a car, you could pick that up; and at the same time, I can check in about the plane."
Pickering pointed out the door, where the drop-head Jaguar was parked in front of a sign readinggeneral and flag officers only.
"That’s beautiful," Ellen said. "What is it?"
"It’s an old Jaguar. The roof leaks."
Haughton chuckled. "I see you are still scrupulously refusing to obey the Customs of the Service."
Pickering was surprised at how furious the remark made him, but he forced a smile.
"Shall we go?"
Ellen Feller sat between them on the way to the airport. Whether by intent or accident, her thigh pressed against his. That warm softness and the smell of her perfume produced the physiological manifestation of sexual excitement in the male animal.
An inspection of the aircraft had revealed nothing seriously wrong, Haughton was told. They would be leaving in an hour.
There was a small officers’ club. They had three drinks, during which time Ellen Feller’s leg brushed, accidentally or otherwise, against Pickering’s. Then they called Haughton’s flight. They watched him board the Mariner for New Zealand.
Fleming Pickering would not have been surprised at anything Ellen did now that they were alone. She did nothing, sitting ladylike against the far door, all the way out to the cottage.
"What’s this?" she asked.
"It’s a cottage I rented. I told you-"
"I would have bet you were taking me to an officers’ hotel!" she said.
Why the hell didn‘t I? I could have gotten her a room if I had to call General Sutherland himself.
"No."
"Fleming, don’t look so guilt-stricken," Ellen said. "We both know you wouldn’t do this if Mrs. Pickering were around."
He didn’t reply for a moment. Then he pulled up on the parking brake, took the key from the ignition, got out of the car, and walked up to the house and unlocked the door.
The telephone rang. He walked across the living room to it.
"Pickering."
"Captain Pickering?"
"Yes."
"Sir, this is Major Tourtillott, Billeting Officer at the Lennon."
"Yes, Major."
"Sir, there was a Naval officer, a Captain Haughton, looking for you."
"Yes, I know, he found me."
"Sir, he was trying to arrange quarters for a Navy Department civilian, a lady, an assimilated Oh-Four."
"A what?"
"An assimilated Oh-Four, Sir. Someone entitled to the privileges of an Oh-Four, Sir."
"What the hell is an Oh-Four?"
"An Army or Marine Corps major, Sir, or a Navy Lieutenant Commander."
"The lady has made other arrangements for tonight, Major. I’ll get this all sorted out in the morning. She is a member of my staff, and quarters will be required."
"Yes, Sir. I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Sir."
Pickering hung the telephone up and turned to see what had happened to Ellen Feller.
She wasn’t in the small living room. He found her in the bedroom, in bed.
"I’ve been flying for eighteen hours," she said. "I’m probably a little gamey. Will that bother you? Should I shower?"
Fleming Pickering shook his head.
(Three)
Aboard USSLowell Hutchins Transport Group Y
17 degrees 48 minutes south latitude,
150 degrees west longitude
4 August 1942
Just about everyone on board knew that five months ago the USS Lowell Hutchins had been the Pacific and Far East passenger liner Pacific Enchantress; no one had any idea who Lowell Hutchins was, or, since Naval ships were customarily named only after the dead, who he had been.