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Authors: Robert J. Mrazek
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pillow.”
For a second, Manigault’s eyes reflected the enormity of the danger, as well as its impact on his own job as the head of the Security Command.
“Just try to look at these girls as slumming angels, Sam,” he said with resignation. “They’re basically good kids, doing what they do best in the war effort. When the war is over, most of them will go back and get married and live happily ever after.”
“Yeah,” said Taggart with sarcasm.
“You just don’t get it, Sam,” came back Manigault. “These men are responsible for planning and executing the greatest military invasion in history. The whole goddamn war might be at stake. Roosevelt and Churchill are riding them like bulls—Marshall and Ernie King are, too. In the meantime, the testosterone level around here is … Most of them need companionship. They need to swing from the tree now and then. Can’t you understand that?”
“Yeah … they need companionship. They have the world on their shoulders. So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to find out the circumstances of this girl’s death. In addition to Overlord, Admiral Jellico is cleared for the ULTRA intercepts. We need to know if he leaked anything through her.”
“He probably wasn’t her only lover,” said Taggart. “She was young and beautiful, even if she looked like an altar boy.”
“Follow it wherever it leads, as long as it has to do with security of Overlord. Just try to keep your big mouth in check. If you screw up, Sam, I won’t be able to protect you.”
There was a knock on the connecting door to the conference hall, and an overweight WAC sergeant came in wearing an Eisenhower jacket identical to General Manigault’s. Unlike his regulation trousers, her khaki skirt wasn’t regulation. Form-fitted across her broad hips, the hem revealed two inches of thigh, as well as a pair of silk stockings that weren’t painted on her tapered calves.
“They need you in the conference right away, General,” she said. “I told them you would be right along.”
Her wide hips rolled under the tight skirt as she moved back to the door and closed it behind her. Manigault avoided Sam’s gaze.
“Does she have Overlord clearance, too?” said Taggart, deadpan.
The general’s face mottled with anger.
“You’re a real ball-breaker, Sam. You don’t give a shit about anything. I don’t know what happened to you after I left Fort Hamilton, but you’re not the same man I knew then. I didn’t even know that you left the police force until Baird found out. After what you did for me, I never even bothered to check when I asked for you to come over. But it isn’t working out for either of us. I’m sending you home when this is done.”
Taggart felt his words like a blow in the pit of his stomach. He watched Manigault’s retreating back as the general stalked to the door, swung it wide, and disappeared into the conference hall.
CHAPTER 6
V ice-Admiral Sir Thomas Vivyan Jellico, M.C., D.S.O., O.B.E, was sixty years old and clean-shaven, with a long ascetic nose and pallid, somber face. His pomaded silver hair peaked in the middle of his broad forehead like the prow of a ship.
Taggart and Liza had waited an hour in a corridor filled with British and American staff officers before they were finally ushered into his office on the top floor of the Admiralty Building in Whitehall.
Admiral Jellico was standing in full dress uniform in front of a twenty-foot-high painting of Sir Francis Drake. To his left was a shiny mahogany conference table with elephant-tusk legs. A slim, attractive woman in a pale-yellow dress was seated at the nearest end of the table. Sam and Liza came to attention and saluted. The admiral returned their salutes with a casual flip of his fingers to his oak-leaved hat.
“Good afternoon,” he said, the mordant face momentarily creased by a curt smile. He removed his hat and pointed to two chairs opposite the woman at the table.
The far end of the
For a second, Manigault’s eyes reflected the enormity of the danger, as well as its impact on his own job as the head of the Security Command.
“Just try to look at these girls as slumming angels, Sam,” he said with resignation. “They’re basically good kids, doing what they do best in the war effort. When the war is over, most of them will go back and get married and live happily ever after.”
“Yeah,” said Taggart with sarcasm.
“You just don’t get it, Sam,” came back Manigault. “These men are responsible for planning and executing the greatest military invasion in history. The whole goddamn war might be at stake. Roosevelt and Churchill are riding them like bulls—Marshall and Ernie King are, too. In the meantime, the testosterone level around here is … Most of them need companionship. They need to swing from the tree now and then. Can’t you understand that?”
“Yeah … they need companionship. They have the world on their shoulders. So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to find out the circumstances of this girl’s death. In addition to Overlord, Admiral Jellico is cleared for the ULTRA intercepts. We need to know if he leaked anything through her.”
“He probably wasn’t her only lover,” said Taggart. “She was young and beautiful, even if she looked like an altar boy.”
“Follow it wherever it leads, as long as it has to do with security of Overlord. Just try to keep your big mouth in check. If you screw up, Sam, I won’t be able to protect you.”
There was a knock on the connecting door to the conference hall, and an overweight WAC sergeant came in wearing an Eisenhower jacket identical to General Manigault’s. Unlike his regulation trousers, her khaki skirt wasn’t regulation. Form-fitted across her broad hips, the hem revealed two inches of thigh, as well as a pair of silk stockings that weren’t painted on her tapered calves.
“They need you in the conference right away, General,” she said. “I told them you would be right along.”
Her wide hips rolled under the tight skirt as she moved back to the door and closed it behind her. Manigault avoided Sam’s gaze.
“Does she have Overlord clearance, too?” said Taggart, deadpan.
The general’s face mottled with anger.
“You’re a real ball-breaker, Sam. You don’t give a shit about anything. I don’t know what happened to you after I left Fort Hamilton, but you’re not the same man I knew then. I didn’t even know that you left the police force until Baird found out. After what you did for me, I never even bothered to check when I asked for you to come over. But it isn’t working out for either of us. I’m sending you home when this is done.”
Taggart felt his words like a blow in the pit of his stomach. He watched Manigault’s retreating back as the general stalked to the door, swung it wide, and disappeared into the conference hall.
CHAPTER 6
V ice-Admiral Sir Thomas Vivyan Jellico, M.C., D.S.O., O.B.E, was sixty years old and clean-shaven, with a long ascetic nose and pallid, somber face. His pomaded silver hair peaked in the middle of his broad forehead like the prow of a ship.
Taggart and Liza had waited an hour in a corridor filled with British and American staff officers before they were finally ushered into his office on the top floor of the Admiralty Building in Whitehall.
Admiral Jellico was standing in full dress uniform in front of a twenty-foot-high painting of Sir Francis Drake. To his left was a shiny mahogany conference table with elephant-tusk legs. A slim, attractive woman in a pale-yellow dress was seated at the nearest end of the table. Sam and Liza came to attention and saluted. The admiral returned their salutes with a casual flip of his fingers to his oak-leaved hat.
“Good afternoon,” he said, the mordant face momentarily creased by a curt smile. He removed his hat and pointed to two chairs opposite the woman at the table.
The far end of the
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