Feldt snorted. "Until just now, Pickering, when you said that, I was beginning to believe I had finally met one American who really had enough brains to pour piss out of a sodding boot."
"Banning suggested that the company of a pretty woman just possibly might put you in a mellow frame of mind," Pickering said.
"Shit!" Feldt said. "Why? Banning, you bastard, what do you want from me?"
The women came back in the room. There was an awkward silence, and then Feldt said, "Major Banning was about to tell me what he wants from me."
"A dozen Coastwatchers to be attached to the 1st Marine Division," Banning said.
"That's a marvelous idea," Colonel Goettge said enthusiastically. Moore sensed that it was the first time he had heard of the idea.
"What for?" Feldt asked.
"Captain Pickering and I think they could be very helpful to Colonel Goettge," Banning said. "Dealing with the natives, among other things. Colonel Goettge doesn't speak Pidgin too well."
"I'll bet he sodding well doesn't," Feldt snorted. "From what I've seen, he's living proof of the old saw that 'intelligence officer is a contradiction of terms.' "
"That's quite enough, Feldt," Pickering snapped. "You're in my home, and you owe the colonel an apology."
There was a long, silent moment.
"No offense, Goettge," Feldt said finally. "A little down-under humor."
"No offense taken, Commander," Goettge said.
Neither of them sounded at all sincere.
"Interesting thought, Major," the other Australian officer said, in an obvious attempt to spread oil on the troubled waters.
"Don't encourage Banning, for Christ's sake," Feldt said. "There's no telling what the bastard'll ask for next." He fell silent for a moment, and then said, "OK. I don't know about a dozen. But I can come up with six or eight people."
"Why don't we go in to dinner?" Captain Pickering suggested.
"Are you trying to separate me from the booze, by any chance, Captain?"
"Absolutely not,'' Pickering replied. "You give us eight Coastwatchers to attach to the 1st Marine Division, and I'll give you all the sodding booze you can sodding well handle."
There was a moment's silence, and then Feldt laughed.
"You're a devious bastard, Pickering," he said. "I like you."
(Five)
THE ELMS
DANDENONG, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA
0805 HOURS 2 JULY 1942
When Major Jake Dillon, more than a little hungover, went down to breakfast, he was surprised to find Fleming Pickering's driver, or orderly, or whatever the hell he was, sitting at the dining room table finishing up what looked like steak and eggs.
Until he had been accused (with justification) of helping himself to the booze, Corporal Jake Dillon of the 4th Marines had once served as an orderly to a captain named Jerold in Shanghai. Corporal Dillon had not eaten steak and eggs at the captain's table. What he ate was leftovers, and he had done that standing up in the kitchen.
Sergeant John Marston Moore started to get to his feet when he saw Dillon.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Keep your seat, Sergeant," Dillon said. "Finish your breakfast."
"I'm just about finished," the kid said. And then he seemed to be stretching his leg under the table. After a moment, Jake understood there was a button on the floor, to summon the help. Proof came a moment later when the door to the kitchen opened and Mrs. Cavendish came out.
"Good morning, Sir," she said. "I hope you slept well."
"Like a drum," Dillon said.
"And what may I get you for breakfast?"
"What the sergeant was eating looks fine, thank you."
"Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, please."
"Don't drink that," Mrs. Cavendish said to Moore, as he raised his cup toward his lips. "I'll bring you a fresh cup, hot."
She took the cup and saucer from him and went into the kitchen.
"Pretty soft berth, huh?" Dillon said to Moore.
"Sir?"
"I was an orderly once, a long time ago. My officer made me eat in the kitchen." He saw in Moore's face that he had interpreted the remark as a reprimand, and added: "Hey, I don't give a damn where you eat. I told you, I used to be an enlisted man. Hell, I was a sergeant a lot longer than I've been an officer. I was just saying that it looks as if you fell into a pretty soft berth."
"Yes, Sir."
"How long have you been working for Pickering?"
"Not long, Sir."
"Well, don't fuck up, Kid, and get yourself sent down to the 1st Division. They're living in tents, and they are not eating steak and eggs for breakfast."
"Yes, Sir."
Dillon heard the sound of footsteps, turned his head, and saw that Colonel Goettge and Major Banning were coming into the dining room. Moore saw them, too, and started to get up again.
"Good morning," Dillon said. "I told Captain Pickering's orderly to sit down and have a cup of coffee. I hope that's all right, Colonel."