“That’s Captain Fine.” He did not introduce the women. He opened the envelope, removed another envelope from inside, and broke its seal. He then read the orders, put them back in the envelope, and passed it down the table to Fine. “Is the car ready? You put gas in it?” Canidy asked the security man. “Yes, Sir. It’s out in front.”
“The weekend is over, I guess,” Canidy said to Ann. “Come see us off,” Ann said as she got up. He nodded.
“Give me a minute,” he said, and waited until the women had left the room before asking, “Have you had breakfast?”
“No, Sir,” the older of the two Air Corps officers said. The “Sir’ came hard, Fine thought. But if I were as old as they are, I would find it hard saying “Sir” to a guy in trunks and an MIT sweatshirt who looks as young-who is as young-as Canidy is. “Sit down,” Canidy ordered, waving the two officers into chairs at the table. Barbara Whittaker came back into the room with a silver coffeepot.
“Gentlemen,” Canidy said, “this is our hostess, Mrs. Barbara Whittaker.” Uncomfortably, the two officers gave Barbara Whittaker their hands and mumbled their names. “Would you please see about getting them some breakfast?” Canidy said.
“And then detour anyone else who wants to eat?”
“I’ll have a table set on the porch,” Barbara said. I’ll see the girls off,” Canidy said.”
Stan, hold the fort, will you? When they were alone, the older of the two captains said to Fine with mingled annoyance and curiosity, “He’s a little young to be a major, isn’t he? “He’s also a little young to be the man in charge,” Fine said. “But he’s an unusual young man. He was the first ace in the AVG.”
“This isn’t what I expected to find,” the Air Corps officer said. “Me either,” Fine said.
“A week ago I had a B-17 squadron at Chanute, “What the hell is this all about?”
“I think,” Fine said, “that I had better wait and let Major Canidy tell you that.” , Canidy returned to the breakfast room five minutes later.
He was still wearing the battered, washed-out MIT sweatshirt and swim trunks, but Fine thought he no longer looked or sounded like a young Romeo who had just found his Juliet. “I’ll begin with a statement of fact,” Canidy said as he poured another cup of coffee.
“If either of you in any way breaches the security requirements I am about to outline for you, you will spend the duration of the war in a psychiatric hospital. It is not a threat. Simply a fact. Is that perfectly clear to both of you?”
“Yes, Sir,” the two Air Corps officers said, almost in unison. There was no hesitation in calling him “Sir’ this time, Fine thought. Was that because I had told them Canidy had been the AVG-sfirst ace, or did they now sense a ruthlessness in him that had not been there when they had first walked into the breakfast room?
I x ONE I Le Re lais de Pointe-Noire Near Casablanca, Morocco July R9,1942
Le Re lais de Pointe-Noire, a two-story stone building, sat on a huge granite crag thrusting into the Atlantic Ocean. The granite appeared black when surf crashed against it, hence the name Pointe-Noire. It was said that Le Re lais de Pointe-Noire was the best restaurant on the Atlantic Coast of Morocco, but it was perhaps best known for its chamhres spares-there were ten-on the floor above the main restaurant.
Five of the discreet, private dining rooms-which were furnished with a table, and a chaise lounge in case the diners decided to take a little nap after eating-had large windows looking out upon the surf. The others faced inward toward the narrow road that led from the shore to the granite crag.
Helm ut von Heurten-Mitnitz had reserved a chambre spare looking out on the surf for himself and Madame Jeanine Lernoine. There was no biding from anyone that the senior member of the Franco-German Armistice Commission for Morocco was a guest of the restaurant. For one thing, his Mercedes-Benz automobile was well known. And so, he suspected, was the Peugeot sedan with the Rabat license tag he used when he wished to be more discreet. For another, he was usually accompanied by a second Mercedes, a smaller one, carrying three members of the SS-SD, the secret police branch of the SS, and one member of the Sfiret6, the French Security Service, who were charged with his protection.