If the escort-and the Jean Bart herself-could provide defense against the aircraft the Germans would send after her, sufficient fuel could be transferred in an hour to give the jean Bart the means to sail into the Atlantic out of range of German aircraft. Then full refueling could be accomplished more or less at leisure. What the admiral still required, and what Canidy decided to get for him, were a few technical facts: How much fuel per minute could be pumped from a tanker into the Jean Bart’s tanks? Using how many lines? What was the pressure of the lines? At what speed could a U.S. Navy tanker steam while her fuel lines were attached to the Jean Bart? In what sea conditions? when Canidy called him in Washington, “I wasn’t aware that delusion was contagious,” Captain Doug lass said “What would it hurt to give the old man the information he wants?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m sure that’s classified.”
“Who are you afraid he’ll tell?” Canidy asked. “I’ll work up some figures, then,” Doug lass said. “Get him the right ones,” Canidy said.
“He’s no fool.”
“You ever think of making an investment in a bridge, Canidy? ” Doug lass said.
“I’m sure the admiral has one he’d be willing to sell you cheap.” But two days later, probably because Doug lass had decided it would keep the admiral happy and away from the press, a messenger delivered an enormous stack of technical manuals containing details of U.S. Navy tanker refueling techniques and capabilities.
THREE I Deal, New jersey June LIS, 1942
Dick Canidy, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, after a full day in coveralls in Hangar 17, stepped off the New jersey Central train at As bury Park. The Rolls Royce was waiting for him.
After making another killing on Wall Street, home comes Richard Canidy, well-known internationalfinancier, to he met by thefaithfulfamily retainer in the Rolls. When the Rolls delivered Canidy in his stockbroker’s uniform to Summer Place, the admiral, Barbara Whittaker, and the admiral’s chief of staff were drinking wine at an umbrella-shaded cast-iron table on the lawn. The lawn was green and lovely and it stretched down to the beach.
Without being asked, the admiral’s middle-aged orderly brought Canidy some of Chesly Whittaker’s older-than-Canidy Scotch. With a breeze coming off the ocean, it was so pleasant at the table that Barbara Whittaker ordered that their dinner be served there. And they lingered over coffee and brandy until it was dark and fireflies came out. The admiral finally announced he was going to take a stroll along the beach, and Canidy was flattered when the old man asked if perhaps he would care to join him.
They caught up with one of the Navy sentries, who was patrolling the beach with a Springfield rifle on his shoulder and an allegedly ferocious German shepherd on a leash.
The shepherd obligingly chased pieces of driftwood for the admiral, proudly delivering them with his tail wagging. Finally, the sentry resumed his rounds, and Canidy, without thinking, idly asked a question he immediately regretted. He asked the admiral about his family. “My wife lives as I do, on charity,” the admiral said calmly. “When I was court-martial ed-” “Court-martial ed?”
“In absentia, almost immediately after I left Morocco,” the admiral said matter-of-factly, “I was convicted of treason. The court stripped me of my rank and decorations. That of course stopped my pay, and my property was forfeit.”
“Jesus Christ!” Canidy exploded. The admiral shrugged.
“My son was dismissed from the Navy shortly after my court-martial. As my son, he was obviously not trustworthy. He has been arrested by the Germans. I don’t know where he is.”
“I’m sorry.”
” I have old friends in New York,” the admiral said, “Madame Martin and her husband, who have been kind enough to provide a little pocket money for me, enough that I can share a little with my staff.”
“You don’t get money from the Free French?” I have a letter from Brigadier de Gaulle,” the admiral said, his tone making it quite clear what he thought of de Gaulle, “in which he states that he, representing the Free French, does not of course regard my court martial as valid, and that so far as the Free French are concerned, I am in honorable retirement. He went on to express his profound regret that because of other, more pressing claims upon the limited funds made available to him, he will unhappily be forced to delay the payment of my pension until after the war. “That sonofabitch!” Canidy said. “You are referring, mon Major,” the admiral said dryly, “to the head of my government. But under the circumstances, I do not believe I will offer you the choice of a duel or an apology.” They walked along the beach in silence for a couple of minutes, nodded to the sailor when he came walking back down the beach with the German shepherd, then turned and headed back to Summer Place. When they got back to the house, Barbara Whittaker was waiting for them. Captain Doug lass had called, she said.