In Danger's Path (39 page)

“One in oxblood,” Ernie said. “And one in black.”

McCoy considered that a moment, then shrugged.

“What the hell,” he said. “Why not?”

[TWO]

[THREE]
The 21 Club
21 West Fifty-second Street
New York City, New York
1930 9 March 1943

“There they are,” Mrs. Carolyn Spencer Howell said, pointing across the crowded room, and then asking softly, “What's wrong with the way he's dressed? He looks fine to me.”

Colonel Banning saw that Captain McCoy was now attired in a muted blue-gray herringbone jacket; a white button-down-collar shirt; and a regimentally striped necktie. The legs he had stretched out beside his table were covered with gray flannel trousers. He was wearing oxblood loafers and gray stockings.

Ernie did a good job—and damned quickly
,
Banning thought. If it wasn't for that GI haircut, he'd look like he belongs in here
.

“That's not the same guy I rode up here with on the train,” Banning said. “That's Ernie's father with them, probably. Her secretary said she was going to meet him here.”

At that moment, Ernie spotted them and waved them over.

“We'll be joining Miss Sage,” Carolyn said to the head-waiter, who followed the nod of her head, spotted the Sages, and then unfastened the red velvet-covered chain and passed them into the dining room.

From the look on his face when they approached the table, Ernest Sage liked the looks of Carolyn Howell.

Well, why not?
Banning thought.
Carolyn's tall, graceful, willowy, chic, and damned good-looking. Just because you become a father doesn't mean you can no longer appreciate women
.

Ernie gave her cheek to Carolyn to be kissed.

They're two of a kind, really
, Banning thought somewhat unkindly.
Two very nice young women sleeping with Marines they aren't married to and don't give much of a damn who knows it
.

“I hope we're not intruding,” Banning said.

“Not at all,” Ernest Sage said, snapped his fingers to attract a waiter's attention, and signaled for him to bring two chairs to the table.

“Mr. Sage, this is Colonel Banning and Mrs. Howell,” McCoy said.

“How do you do?” Sage said.

He picked up on that
“Mrs.
Howell
,” Banning thought. Confirmation came when Ernie's father's eyes dropped to Carolyn's hand, looking for a wedding ring. There was none.

Would I put a wedding ring on that finger if there wasn't already a Mrs. Edward J. Banning? Of course I would. Do I regret marrying Milla? I do not. So what does that make me, a would-be bigamist? Or just a no-good sonofabitch for getting involved with Carolyn, getting her involved with me?

“You look very elegant tonight, Ken,” Carolyn said. “How's your face?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ed told me about the rash,” Carolyn said. “I hope I didn't embarrass you?”

“No,” McCoy answered after a pause that wasn't quite awkward. “Of course not. The medics said as long as I don't shave, it will clear up.”

Ernest Sage looked carefully at McCoy's face. He could see nothing remotely resembling a rash.

I wonder what that's all about?
Ernest Sage wondered.
That rash on his face is obviously hogwash. He had to think quick when she asked him about it; he didn't know what she was talking about
.

But she's right. He does look good in civilian clothes
.

Why the hell couldn't Ernie fall in love with some nice young man who is 4-F and doesn't have to concoct stories about why he's wearing civilian clothing
.

“I called your office,” Banning said to Ernie. “Your secretary told me she thought you were coming here.”

“Darlene talks too much,” Ernie replied, and then: “Oh, hell, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm glad to see you.”

“And I'm very happy to meet you, Colonel,” Ernest Sage said. “I understand you're Ken's commanding officer?”

“In a manner of speaking, sir,” Banning said.

“He and Ken are old friends, Daddy,” Ernie said. “They were in Shanghai together.”

We weren't exactly friends in Shanghai
, Banning thought.
The Corps frowns on captains getting friendly with corporals. But we're friends now, and obviously McCoy thought of himself as my friend when he was Corporal McCoy in Shanghai. Otherwise he wouldn't have leaned on Zimmerman and his Chinese woman to help Milla. Zimmerman didn't do that out of the goodness of his heart
.

“We're working together on a project, Mr. Sage,” Banning said. “Since I'm senior to Ken, that makes me sort of his commanding officer.”

“For General Pickering, right?” Ernest Sage said. “Now of the OSS, whatever the hell that is.”

“Yes, sir,” Banning said.

“What kind of a project? Or is that an impolite question?”

“Well, tomorrow morning Ken and I are going to Fort Monmouth to look at some new shortwave radios,” Banning said. Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, was the “Home of the Army Signal Corps”; the U.S. Army Signal Corps Laboratories were located on the base.

“Really? What kind of radios?”

“Daddy, stop!” Ernie said firmly. “You're putting him on the spot.”

“I'm sorry, Colonel,” Ernest Sage said. “I didn't mean to.”

“We're really not supposed to talk about what we're doing,” Banning said. “I personally don't think this place is crawling with Japanese spies—or any other kind—but orders are orders.”

“I'm not asking when he would be going, or where,” Sage pursued, “but is whatever you're doing going to take Ken away anytime soon?”

Banning looked at McCoy, who shrugged, and then at Carolyn.

“I'm afraid so,” Banning said. “Both of us.”

Banning saw the pained look in Carolyn's eyes, but saw, too, that she wasn't surprised.

“And for how long?” Ernie asked brightly.

“We don't know that, Ernie,” Banning said.

“In other words, for a long time,” she said bitterly. “My God, he just got back!”

“There's a whole division of Marines in Australia, Ernie,” McCoy said, “who went over there a year ago, took Guadalcanal, and are now training to take some other island. They haven't been back home since they left, and they have no idea when they will get back.”

“That's supposed to make me feel better?” she challenged. “It doesn't.”

“We have tonight,” Carolyn said. “Let's be grateful for what we have.”

“Live today, for tomorrow they die, right?” Ernie said.

“Knock it off, Ernie,” McCoy said.

She looked at him, then at Carolyn.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that,” she said.

“Let's talk about where we're going to have dinner,” Carolyn said.

[FOUR]
Apartment 7B
705 Park Avenue
New York City, New York
2305 9 March 1943

Carolyn Spencer Howell, fresh from the shower and wearing a pink negligee, stood in the door of her bathroom and brushed her hair, waiting for Lieutenant Colonel Ed Banning to notice her.

He was sitting in his pajamas, propped up in the bed, reading the
Daily News
. A bottle of Rémy Martin cognac and two balloon glasses sat on the bedside table.

After she had had time to consider once again that he was a really handsome man, and that she loved him very much, he sensed her eyes on him and let the
Daily News
drop onto his lap.

“I have a profound philosophical insight to share with you,” she said.

“And what would that profound philosophical insight be?”

“I hate this goddamned war, and by extension, the goddamned United States Marine Corps, and the goddamned OSS.”

“Did this great truth suddenly appear to you, or did something trigger it?”

“Ken,” she said.

“I don't think Ken can be blamed for the war, the Marine Corps, or the OSS,” Banning said.

“He looked so nice in Jack and Charley's,” Carolyn said. “
They
looked so nice.”

“Jack and Charley's?” Banning asked, confused.

“Jack and Charley Kriendler own the 21 Club,” she said.

“I didn't know that,” Banning said. “I'm just a simple Marine from South Carolina. But yeah, the Killer looked fine. Thanks to Ernie. I didn't know he even knew what Brooks Brothers was.”

“You know what I thought? In Jack and Charley's 21 Club?” she asked.

“I think you're about to tell me.”

“There we were, the nice young man and the nice young woman, in love, and the slightly older female and her gentleman friend, all dressed up—ignoring for the moment your goddamned uniform—and wouldn't it be nice if we could all go home to our respective apartments after agreeing to have the same kind of a night out, say, next week? Or maybe decide to go to the shore for the weekend.”

Banning didn't reply.

“Instead of pretending that everything was hunky-dory,” Carolyn went on, “and that the two of you are not going God only knows where, and God only knows when, to do God only knows what, except that either or both or you are liable to be killed doing it.”

“To coin a phrase,” Banning said, “there's a war on, you may have heard.”

“I think I did hear something about that,” she said.

“I don't know what you want me to say, sweetheart,” he said.

“I don't expect you to say anything,” Carolyn said. “I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

“I wish things were different,” Banning said, and then added: “As soon as we finish what we have to do here—which will probably take a couple of weeks—I'm going to Chungking, China, where I will assume the duties of staff officer on the staff of the U.S. Mission to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek.”

“You're serious?” she asked, but it was more of a statement.

Banning nodded.

“Ken, too?”

“Ken, too.”

“Why do I suspect—feminine intuition?—that that's not the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? I like Ken, you know that, but I can't see him passing a tray of canapés around. Or you either, for that matter.”

“It's all I can tell you,” Banning said. “I probably—probably hell—
shouldn't
have told you that much. What I did tell you was the truth.”