“Has he been checked for clap and other social diseases, Davis?” Canidy asked.
“They wouldn’t let him out of Morocco before they checked on that, Major,” Davis said. Davis was privy to the fact–he was, among other things, the London station finance officer–that Canidy was not a major, but was in the employ of the United States government as a technical Consultant, Grade 14.” Even so, he treated Canidy with the regard of a longtime professional noncom for an officer he respects.
“Then it’s okay to kiss him?” Canidy asked innocently.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, Major,” Davis said.
“How’s the paperwork coming?” Canidy asked.
“Give me another ten minutes, and we’ll be finished,” Davis said.
Canidy nodded, sat down at the table.
He went through the stack of forms that seemed to be completed and picked up the Application for National Service Life Insurance. As the beneficiary of the $10, 000 the government would pay on his death, Fulmar had put down Rev. George Carter Canidy, D. D. , St. Paul’s School, Cedar Rapids, Iowa.” In the relationship block he had entered “Friend.” The Rev. Dr. Canidy was Canidy’s father. Canidy thought of Eldon Baker’s conviction that he and Eric were too close emotionally.
What was too close?
Finally, Davis was through.
“He’s got a bunch of dough coming, Major,” Davis said. “Both Army pay and OSS pay. Colonel Stevens said to pay him as a Technical Consultant, Grade 10, from the time of the first contact.” That was, Canidy thought, a nice gesture on Stevens’s part.
“And you didn’t even know you’d enlisted, did you?” Canidy said.
“More than I’ve got in the safe,” Davis said. “I’ll have to go over to SHAEF finance and get the money.”
L..
“Well, Captain Fine is rich,” Canidy said. “We’ll just sponge on him until you get it.” “I’ve got money,” Fulmar said.
“Then I’ll sponge on you,” Canidy said. “Has this room been swept lately, Davis? We have deep secrets to discuss with the Sheikh of Araby.” “Yes, sir,” Davis said. “The Signal Corps was here yesterday.” “What kind of secrets?” Fulmar asked as Davis cleared the table of the forms and other papers.
“We thought we’d start with your sex life,” Canidy said, “and then go on to other, more interesting things.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Fulmar asked, exasperated.
Canidy shrugged, a signal that he would not go on until Davis, who did not have the need-to-know, had left them alone.
When he had gathered up all the papers, Davis said, “Any time after lunch tomorrow, Lieutenant, come by and I’ll have your money.”
“Thank you,” Fulmar said. He waited until Davis had left, then turned to Canidy. “On the subject of money, is my bank account still blocked?” “I don’t know,” Canidy said. “But I’ll find out.” He walked to Fine’s desk, picked up the telephone, and called Colonel Stevens.
“Eric wants to know if his New York bank account is still frozen,” he said, “and if so, why. Could you send a cable and find out?”
“Thank you,” Fulmar said.
“What’s all that about?” Fine asked. “Or can’t I ask?”
“Not that Eric wasn’t willing to risk his all for Mom’s Apple Pie, et cetera, and the American Way of Life,” Canidy said, “but Donovan promised him that if he joined up and did good, he would get both the IRS and the Alien Property people to take their hands off the money Eric has in the National City Bank.”
“What money?” Fine asked.
“I made a few bucks in the export-import’ business, Stan,” Fulmar said, just a little smugly.
“Right, at a hundred and twenty grand,” Canidy said. “It is one of the reasons he’s not too popular in Germany. The export business he’s talking about is smuggling cash and jewels out of Occupied France under the noses of the Germans. For a percentage.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Fine said. “That you made so much money, I mean.”
“And you are now going to learn some astonishing things about his sex life, Stan,” Canidy said.
“You keep saying that,” Fulmar said. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Gisella Dyer,” Canidy said.