"I didn't know until just now that Marines were involved in that operation." Sessions grunted.
"I'm sorry you had to come over here," McCoy said. "I could have gone to the office."
"They don't have oysters and good whiskey in the office. Anyway, I got to see Ernie,"
Sessions said as he picked up the briefcase and handcuffed it to his wrist.
"Give Jeanne my love," Ernie said.
"Maybe we can get together while you're here."
"How long will we be here?"
"I guess we'll find that out in the morning," Sessions said.
He shook hands with McCoy, kissed Ernie, and left.
McCoy got off the couch and made himself a drink.
"You're not going to tell me what that was all about, right?" Ernie asked.
"I don't know what it's all about," McCoy said. And then, obviously to change the subject, "Well, what should we do now?"
"I've never had any problem with `early to bed and early to rise,"' Ernie said, and then added, "You know what I'd really like to do? Take a walk."
"A walk?" he asked incredulously.
"A walk. One foot after the other. It's beautiful out. Past the White House. Take a look in the windows of the department stores." McCoy shrugged. "Why not?" They'd stopped outside the Washington Theater to scan the posters showing Flight Lieutenant Tyrone Power of the Eagle Squadron about to climb in the cockpit of his Spitfire when the doors opened and a Marine sergeant and his girl came out.
The Marine sergeant spotted the officer's bars on McCoy's shoulders and saluted before he recognized McCoy.
"How are you, Hart?" McCoy said.
"Can't complain, Sir."
"I'm Ernie Sage, Sergeant," Ernie said, "since I doubt if the Lieutenant will introduce us."
"Ernie, this is Sergeant George Hart. He works for General Pickering," McCoy said.
"How is he?" Ernie demanded. "And a straight answer, please?"
"You can tell her," McCoy said. "She's going to see him in the morning anyway."
"He's much better. He's not nearly as strong as he thinks he is."
"Since I doubt if Sergeant Hart is going to introduce us, Miss, my name is McCoy."
"Wise guy!" Ernie said.
"Elizabeth-they call me Beth-Lathrop."
"And I'm Ernie, and I'm Ken's girlfriend, and I just decided that we should all go somewhere for a drink."
"You can't do that in public," McCoy said uncomfortably.
"It's against regulations for officers to drink with enlisted Marines."
"Well, then, we'll go to the hotel," Ernie said. "Sergeant, that's not as snobbish as it sounded. When the Lieutenant was a corporal, he was just as much a by-the-book Marine."
"I don't want to-" Hart protested.
"Nonsense," Ernie said. "I want to hear more about Uncle Fleming."
"The hotel and a drink's a good idea," McCoy said. "I've had enough walking for the night."
"I know who you are," Beth said. "You're Pick's friend."
"You know Pick?" Ernie asked delightedly.
"I know him," Beth said.
There was a strange note in her voice. Ernie concluded from it that this was one of Pick Pickering's discards. Their number was legion.
"Well, then, you have to come," Ernie said. "We can swap nasty stories about him." McCoy, too, picked up on her uneasiness, and Hart's-his reluctance to come with them.
it s either that I'm an officer, he decided, or more likely, that he wanted to go off with the dame and get a little and is afraid this will screw that up.
Tough luck, if that's what Ernie wants, that's what she'll get.
Chapter Twelve
[One]
WALTER REED ARMY GENERAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
0725 HOURS 23 SEPTEMBER 1942
"Ernie, I hate to run you off, but we have to shuffle some paper," General Pickering said. "I'll have Sergeant Hart run you back to the hotel."
"We drove up, Uncle Fleming," Ernie said. "We have our car. You behave, you understand?"
"You call my wife and make a valiant effort to convince her that I am really in prime health, and I will behave. Deal?"
"Deal," she said, and kissed him. "You take care of Ken, too."