The White Ghost Read Free Page A

us.
    â€œHow do you mean?” Kennedy said.
    â€œThat if Billy finds evidence which implicates your brother, it can be written off as a grudge.”
    â€œBaron, how can you say that? I might take that as an insult,” Kennedy said, his smile still stretched across his gums as his eyes darkened. “Besides, that isn’t the other reason.”
    â€œWhat is it?” I asked.
    â€œYou owe us,” Kennedy said in a whisper, leaning over the desk, pushing aside Kilpatrick’s paperwork with his elbows.
    â€œFor what?” I said, anger rising inside me. “I don’t owe your family a damn thing.”
    â€œYour father never told you, did he?” Kennedy leaned back, glee rising in his voice. “How do you think it all happened? Your sudden appointment to the War Plans Department right out of Officer’s Candidate School? While the other second louies went off to get shot to pieces as platoon leaders, you got a soft posting with Eisenhower. Someone had to make that happen Boyle. Someone with clout.”
    â€œThe Ambassador,” Kaz said. He knew my story. How my dad and uncle hated the idea of me dying in another war to save the British Empire, as their eldest brother Frank had in the last war. How they cooked up a scheme to get me appointed to the staff of a distant relative—on my mother’s side—who worked in an obscure office in Washington D.C. And how shocked we all were when Uncle Ike got sent off to Europe as head of all US Army forces, and took me with him.
    â€œYeah,” Kennedy said, his eyes locked onto mine. “Father was the one who pulled the strings. Even after he came home from London in 1940, he still had his contacts in government, still had favors owed. Your father and that lunatic uncle of yours approached him to get you appointed to General Eisenhower’s staff. You’re here because the Kennedys put you here, Boyle. It’s time for payback.” He clasped his hands behind his head, the same pose as I’d so confidently presented a few minutes ago. I didn’t feel quite so sure of myself anymore.
    â€œI can see that,” I said, marshaling my thoughts as I tried not to show my dismay at being in thrall to the Kennedy clan. “Your old man could pull a few strings back home. But how did he pull this off? Getting General Marshall to order me halfway around the world for your kid brother?”
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt that the director of the Office of Naval Intelligence used to be Father’s naval attaché in London,” Joe said with a smirk. He liked to brag about family connections, even when it would be best to keep his mouth shut. I decided to push further.
    â€œCome on, Joe,” I said. “Even ONI couldn’t make all this happen so fast. Somebody other than your old man must be calling the shots.”
    â€œWake up and smell the coffee, Boyle. There’s an election coming up in ’44. FDR wants a fourth term, and there are plenty of people who think he never should have had a third. His health isn’t so good, either, although he does a good job of hiding it.”
    â€œIs your old man going to challenge him?” I asked. There had been rumors of Joe Senior wanting a shot at the presidency.
    â€œNo, that’s not in the cards,” Kennedy said. “The country’s not ready for a Catholic president. Not yet. But millions of Catholics vote. Father can deliver a lot of that vote, especially the Irish Catholics.”
    â€œOr not,” I said. “If he sits on his hands next year.”
    â€œJack always said you were a dumb bastard, Boyle. I think my little brother got that wrong.”

Chapter Three
    â€œAn unpleasant man,” Kaz said as Joe Junior went off in search of chow and a bunk.
    â€œNot all Boston Irish are the happy-go-lucky types,” I said as I leafed through the orders he’d left with us. Joe Kennedy was a loudmouth lout, as far as I