What that meant was that Bruce, as Helene Dancy had suggested, was but- j teeing up Beetle Smith by providing an unusually nice luncheon at the Savoy.
And that meant he was likely to be greatly annoyed to have the nice luncheon interrupted.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” Paul Harrison said.
“But I could see no other | choice.” j He thrust a large manila envelope at him. ‘ “Captain Fine is not available?” Bruce asked, courteously enough. ) “He was sent for, Sir,” Harrison said.
“He was out of the office.” i “Oh, excuse me,” Bruce said.
“Beetle, this is Captain Harrison. And this is| General Smith. Or do you know each other?”
Hell, yes, we’re old pals. How the hell are you. Beetle?
“No, sir,” Capt. Harrison said.
“How do you do, Sir?”
General Smith smiled, and offered a firm handshake.
“Captain,” Smith said. “”Harrison,” is it?”
Bruce tore the envelope open carefully, glanced inside, then took the Eyes Only documents from it.
“I’m happy to meet you, Captain,” General Smith said.
Harrison could not think of a reply.
Dear Harriet, You’ll never guess who I met at lunch at the Savoy Hotel.
Smith, naturally curious, turned his attention to David Bruce.
“Important, David?
“General Smith asked.
“Not particularly,” Bruce said. And then he corrected himself.
“I don’t mean to suggest that you should not have brought this to my attention here, Harrison.
That was the correct thing to do.”
“You said that Captain Fine has been sent for?”
“I don’t think there’s any point in involving Captain Fine in this, Captain,” Bruce said.
“What I think you should do is see that Washington gets a copy of this as quickly as you can. And then get in touch with Colonel Stevens and ask him to be in my office at four. A little earlier, if he can make it. And I think it might be a good idea if you were to ask him to bring Lieutenant Hoche with him.”
It. Hoche, Capt. Harrison recalled, was the newly arrived, absolutely splendiferous blonde who was supposed to be Helene Dancy’s man… woman… at What the hell has she got to do with this?
Bruce returned the documents to the envelope and handed it back to Harrison.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said.
Harrison was wondering whether or not the Customs of the Service required him to salute a three-star general in a hotel dining room, when General Smith solved the problem.
He gave Harrison his hand.
“Pleasure to have met you, Captain,” he said.
“I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Yes, Sir,” Harrison said.
“Thank you, Sir.”
[THREE]
National Institutes of Health Building
Chief Boatswain’s Mate J. R. Ellis, USN, pushed open the plate-glass door, marched into the lobby of the building, and crossed to the elevator, his metal tapped heels making a ringing noise on the marble floor.
He was almost at the elevator when a guard, whose nose had been in the sports section of the Washington Star, spotted him. The guard, in a blue, police type uniform, erupted from his chair.
“Hey!”
Ellis looked over his shoulder and saw the guard headed for him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the guard demanded as he caught up with Ellis and put his hand on Ellis’s arm.
Ellis fished in his trousers pocket with his free hand and came up with an identity badge sealed in plastic and fitted with an alligator clip. He held it out for the guard to see. The card bore his photograph, diagonal red’ anytime anyplace” stripes, his name, and in the Duty Assignment box, the words “Office of the Director.”
The guard was satisfied with Ellis’s bona fides, but not mollified.
“You’re supposed to wear that badge, you know,” he said.
“Sorry,” Ellis said.
“I forgot.”
Ellis got on the elevator and rode up.
When the second lobby guard returned from the men’s room, the guard who had stopped Ellis was curious enough to ask him, “Who the hell is the sailor with the anytime, anyplace badge?”
“Navy chief? Big guy? Ruddy face?”
“That’s him. He walked in here like he owned the place.”
“He almost does,” the second guard told him.