“No, Sir,” Commander Bachman said.
“How about making a copy of it?”
“That’s rather time consuming, Sir, but we can do it, Sir.”
“Get it developed first,” Pickering said, looking at his watch. “We’ll see about the time.”
“Where will the General be, Sir?”
“I need a secure place to talk to Major Banning. Have you got one here? Or I can go-”
“My office is secure, Sir.”
“Good, then what we need is your office, and that coffee,” Pickering said. He turned to Admiral Nimitz’s aide. “Son, I know your orders, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to let me out of your sight; Major Banning here is a stickler for security.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” the aide said, smiling. Pickering had obviously heard Admiral Nimitz’s order: “Don’t let him out of your sight, Gerry. And be prepared to tell me who he talked to, and what was said.”
A photographer’s mate third class came in with a tray holding a stainless-steel pitcher of coffee, two china mugs, and a plate of doughnuts. He laid the tray on Major Bachman’s desk and then left, closing a steel door after him.
“I never thought I’d have to say this to you, Ed,” Pickering said with a smile, “but you need a shave, Major.”
Banning smiled back. “A question of priorities, Sir. I figured I could shave once I got this stuff on its way to you.”
“Did you get to see General Vandegrift? Was he cooperative?”
“Cooperative, yes. But uncomfortable. He thought it was violating the chain of command.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Pickering said. “All right, let’s have it.”
“Christ, it’s worse than I thought,” Pickering said after Banning finished reporting Vandegrift’s assessment of his situation, along with his own and the other code-breaker’s analysis of Japanese intentions and capabilities.
“It’s not a pretty picture, Sir.”
“Goddamn it, we can’t lose Guadalcanal!”
“We may have to consider that possibility, Sir.”
Pickering exhaled audibly, then looked at Banning.
“I don’t suppose you had a chance to see my son?”
“Yes, Sir. I spent a good deal of time with him. He was the copilot on the R4D.”
“He was in on the operation? How did that happen? I didn’t know he could fly an R4D.”
“I think it was a question of the best man for the job, Sir. He was picked by the pilot, Sir. Jake Dillon was a little uncomfortable when he saw him at Port Moresby.”
Major Banning had learned the real story behind Lieutenant Pickering’s role as the R4D copilot: that Pick Pickering had almost gone over the edge after his buddy was terribly injured, and that Galloway ordered him into the plane for what could be accurately described as psychiatric therapy. But there was no point in telling his father this.
“I’ll be damned,” Pickering said.
“And the day before yesterday, he shot down another two Japanese planes. A Zero and a bomber. That makes eight. He’s a fine young man, General.”
“In a fighter squadron which is down to three airplanes, according to what you just told me. You ever hear of the laws of probability, Ed?”
“His squadron commander, Captain Galloway-the man who flew the R4D, a very experienced pilot-told me, Sir, that Pick is that rare bird, a natural aviator. He’s good at what he does, Sir. Very good.”
“Jack Stecker’s boy is an ace, plus one. He was obviously pretty good at what he did, too. He’s over at the hospital wrapped up like a mummy. They feed him and drain him with rubber tubes.”
“I heard about that, Sir. McCoy saw Colonel Stecker on the ‘Canal. You heard he was promoted?”
“I heard. Getting him promoted pitted Vandegrift and me against most of the rest of the officer corps,” Pickering replied bitterly, adding: “Christ, Jack ought to be wearing this star, not me.”
“You wear it very well, Sir,” Banning said without thinking.
Pickering looked at him but did not reply.
“Speaking of McCoy… where are the others?”
“Probably in the air by now, Sir. I came ahead. I thought that was what you wanted. I bumped a Navy captain from some admiral’s private airplane.”
Pickering chuckled. “Wagam. Rear Admiral. I know. I was in Nimitz’s office when he reported back in. Complaining.”