The White Ghost Read Free Page B

was concerned. But his big mouth told me a few things that were interesting. ONI was not to be trusted in this investigation, and Joe Senior was ready to do anything to clear Jack’s name, guilty or not.
    I didn’t much care for the news that the former ambassador was behind my appointment to General Eisenhower’s staff. I’d always known the Boyle tribe traded political favors, and a few markers had been called in to get me my posting. What worried me was what the Kennedys wanted in return. I stopped reading the orders and gazed out the window, wondering what it had cost Dad or Uncle Dan to approach Joe Senior. Not in terms of the quid pro quo, but rather in their own self-respect.
    â€œWhat is the nature of your past acquaintance?” Kaz said, breaking the silence. “It sounds like it must be an interesting story.”
    â€œYeah, and a long one. Two stories, actually, but I’ll have to fill you in later. These orders say we need to depart immediately. It’s going to be a long trip, Kaz.”
    â€œMade twelve hundred miles longer by the summons to Morocco,” Kaz said as we left the room. “All to listen to insufferable Kennedy demands.”
    â€œYou must have been prepared, having met him in London,” I said, quickstepping it to the flight office.
    â€œI had a low opinion of his father, having heard his comments favoring the appeasement of Hitler. Lady Astor and her friends were in the same camp, but I must admit I paid little attention to the son of the American ambassador. My only recollection is that he seemed obsequious around the titled British and brusque with everyone else.”
    â€œThat must have been a fun weekend,” I said.
    â€œThe high point was hearing Lady Astor lament that Hitler looked too much like Charlie Chaplin to be taken seriously,” Kaz said. “Jakie and I then retired to play billiards and drink a bottle of Blandy’s Bual Madeira to recover our equilibrium.”
    We showed General Marshall’s orders to our corporal pal who gasped and called in Major Kilpatrick, who cursed and hustled us down the runway where he pulled a war correspondent and a colonel off a packed C-47 transport about to take off. Once again, a couple of lieutenants trumped the bigwigs, making no friends in the process. Not that it mattered. So far I hadn’t run into many of the senior brass who cared a fig about second lieutenants, so I made sure to return the favor.
    The C-47 held twenty-eight passengers. Mainly officers above the rank of captain with one remaining war correspondent and a congressman on a fact-finding junket. Those last two were seated directly across from us. They told us that the reporter we’d replaced was from the congressman’s hometown and the colonel was with Army Public Relations and carried the liquor supply in his pack. The congressman asked who the hell we were to rate special treatment, in a southern drawl that told me I couldn’t sell either Kaz or myself as coming from his district. So I told him it was top secret, which wasn’t far from the truth. Close enough for a politician, and it shut him right up.
    â€œWhat does the report tell us?” Kaz said as soon as the C-47 had gained altitude and the ride smoothed out. I took out the paperwork from the envelope and leafed through it. No letterhead, nothing to indicate who had written it up or to whom it was sent. Meaning Ambassador Kennedy had his sources. The file also held a thick sheaf of official navy documents, including a service record.
    â€œThe deceased is Daniel Tamana,” I said. “From Guadalcanal. He was originally a native scout with a detachment of the British Solomon Islands Protectorate Defense Force. Apparently those are natives who work with the Australian Coastwatchers and as scouts for the marines. He’d recently become a full-fledged Coastwatcher.”
    â€œHow was he killed?” Kaz asked, leaning closer and