"Oh, we can't stay all summer!" Ursula protested.

"We'll see," Helene Craig said" and patted her daughter-in-law's hand.

(One) Stanleyville, Democratic Republic of the Congo 17 July 1964 Pappy Hodges made a very slight adjustment to the 'trim-'tab wheel of the L-23 Twin-Beechcraft and turned to his copilot.

"Do you have to smoke that fucking thing? It smells like "a smoldering rope."

"You are looking at one of the world's most widely traveled cigars," Geoff Craig replied. "Rolled between the thighs of some Cuban belle, it was transported to the Orient, there to be purchased by my cousin Craig and brought to the United~ States.

Then it was flown from Florida here as a suitable gift to mark the birth of his first nephew, at God alone knows what cost to the taxpayers. I respectfully put it to you, Major, Sir, that such a cigar is entitled to stink a little."

"You left out illegal," Pappy chuckled. "It's illegal, to import Cuban cigars into the United States."

"Cousin Craig doesn't allow patriotism or the law to interfere with the simple pleasures of his life."

"And he probably gave them to you because he couldn't stand the stink either. But give me one anyway," Pappy said. "Maybe if I smoke one myself, it will mask the noxious odor." Geoff unwrapped a cigar, handed it to Pappy; and then extended a cigar lighter.

Pappy puffed appreciatively.

"I gotta admit it tastes better than it 'smells,'" he said; "But I guess it would have to, wouldn't it?"

Geoff chuckled.

XVI.

(One) Quarters #1 Fort Rucker, Alabama 1935 Hours 25 July 1964 When the doorbell rang, the Bellmons had just sat down to dinner. A look of displeasure flashed across General Robert F. Bellmon's face.

"See who that is, Bobby, please," Barbara Bellmon said to her son. "Tell them we're eating." Bobby was Second Lieutenant Robert F. Bellmon IV, USMA '64, a tall, well-built young man who bore a strong resemblance to his father. In deference to his father's belief that no matter what color it was or what was printed on it, a T-shirt was an undershirt, and gentlemen did not sit at table in their underwear, he was wearing a light cotton, gray, zipper jacket with WEST POINT lettered across the back over his USMA Fencing Team T-shirt. He laid down his knife and fork, rose from the table, and went to the door.

A young man stood there in a light-blue knit polo shirt and khaki trousers. General Bellmon had another sartorial opinion regarding khaki pants. He didn't care what civilians did, khaki trousers were part of the uniform and. should not be worn as part of civilian attire.

There was no question in Bobby Bellmon's mind who the young man was. There were not that many flaming-red Jaguar convertibles around. This was the sonofabitch-it had become clear from overheard whispered conversations-who was fucking his sister.

"Yes?" Bobby Bellmon said. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to see Marjorie, please," Jack Portet said.

"We're having dinner."

"Would you please tell her I'm here?" Jack said. As he looked a: Marjorie's brother's face, there was no question in Jack's mind that Bobby had heard about him and that he disapproved of what he had heard. "My name is Portet." Perversely, he added, "PFC Portet, Sir."

"Just a moment, please," Bobby Bellmon said, closed the door in Jack's face, and returned to the dining room.

"It's Marj's friend," he said. "PFC Portet."

""Where is he?" Barbara Bellmon asked.

"Outside the door. I told him to wait." Barbara Bellmon glanced at her daughter, saw the look on her face, and quickly got to her feet. Oh, Bobby!" she said in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Jack," they heard her say a moment later, "Bobby didn't know who you were. Come on in and sit down and I'll set a place for you."

When they appeared at the door, Jack said, "Good evening. I'm sorry to burst in this way." He looked at Marjorie and their eyes locked, but neither of them spoke.

"How are you, Jack?" General Bellmon said.

The telephone rang.

"Bobby, get that," General Bellmon ordered.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," Marjorie said finally.

"General Bellmon's quarters," Bobby said to the telephone. "Lieutenant Bellmon speaking, Sir."

"Make a place for him, Marjorie," Barbara ordered. "I'll get a plate and silver."

"I'm not hungry, thank you," Jack said.

"I'm sorry, General Bellmon is busy at the moment," Bobby said to the telephone. "May I take a message?"

"Nonsense," General Bellmon said. "Sit down. There's more than enough."

"Thank you, Sir," Jack said, and went and stood close to Marjorie. She touched his arm.

"Dad, it's the AOO," Bobby said. The Aerodrome Officer of the Day. "He said to tell you that a Florida aircraft has just landed and has been put inside the SCATSA hangar."

"Tell him thank you," General Bellmon ordered.

"General Bellmon says thank you, Major," Bobby Bellmon said.

"I guess you're involved with that, Jack?" General Bellmon asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"What's a Florida aircraft?" Bobby Bellmon asked.

"I don't think you've formally met Bob," have you, Jack?" General Bellmon said, rather obviously ignoring the question. "This is our son, who is about to start flight school. And, Bob, this is Marjorie's friend. You should get to know him. He's quite a pilot."

Bobby Bellmon forced a smile on his, face and offered Jack his hand, "I'm pleased to meet you."

"How do you do?"

Barbara Bellmon came out of the kitchen with a plate of meat loaf and vegetables. "Sit" I said. You couldn't have timed your arrival better. We just sat down. And I will refrain from saying, 'Next time, call.'"

"Something's wrong," Marjorie said thoughtfully. "What is it, Jack?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Yes, there is."

"I've got to go away for a little while. I wanted to ask you to take care of the car for me."

"Go away where?" The telephone rang.

"Bobby," Marjorie said, "tell whoever that is to call back in five minutes."

"That will depend on who is calling," Bobby said as he reached for the phone. "General Bellmon's quarters. Lieutenant Bellmon speaking, Sir." There was a response and then Bobby looked at Jack, extending the phone to him. "It's for you."

Jack took the phone from him and spoke his last name. "OK, Luis," he said. "Call the tower and have them relay to Atlantic Area Control that we made- a precautionary landing at Cairns, and tell them we'll be airborne again in about thirty minutes. You better top off the tanks while you're at it. I'll be out there as soon as I can."

"'Precautionary landing'?" General Bellmon quoted. "Something wrong with your airplane, Jack?"

Jack met his eyes. "No, Sir. There's nothing wrong with the airplane."

"I want to know what's going on;" Marjorie said.

"So do I," Bobby Bellmon added.

"It may well be none of our business," General Bellmon said.

"I asked the copilot to bring the airplane here and pick me up," Jack said, "so I could drop the car off There wasn't time to do it any other way."

"Before what?" Marjorie asked almost angrily. "I want-you to tell me what's going on!"

"A pilot got sick," Jack said. "Actually, we found out he's an alcoholic when he fell off the wagon. There's just nobody else available. 1 have to fill in for him."

"And you're going to the Congo!" Marjorie said.

Jack looked at her and shrugged. "It can't be helped, honey."

"Does Colonel Felter know about-this?" Barbara Bellmon asked.

"I don't know," Jack said. "I'm taking my orders from Colonel Fulbright."

"That figures," General Bellmon said a little bitterly.

"You're not supposed to go over there," Barbara Bellmon said. "All you were supposed to do is help them get the planes and crews ready to go over there."

"How do you know that?" General Bellmon asked his wife.

"'Craig told me," Barbara said. "When Jack first went to Hurlburt."

"You're going right now, aren't you?" Marjorie asked, making an accusation. "That's what that airplane's doing at Cairns!"

"'Yeah," Jack began. "That's about-"

""Just a moment please, Jack," the General interrupted him. "I have something to say. Primarily to Bobby, but really to all of you."

There was something in his tone of voice that silenced all of them and made them look at him expectantly, as if, Jack thought, they were awaiting his orders.

We're dealing with a highly classified operation here, Bobby," General Bellmon said, "although to judge by this conversation, you'd never know it." Bobby Bellmon looked at Jack in righteous indignation.

"'Don't look at him, Bobby," General Bellmon said. "Or just at him. Take a look at your mother and your sister. Your mother put her nose in where she knew it had no business, and as ,hard to understand as this is, both Sandy Felter and Craig Lowell have told Barbara a good deal that she has no heed to know. And Marjorie knows more than she should. Some of that she got from Jack, furiously. The point is, there has, been a serious breach of security. And 1 am obliged to do something about it. The trouble is, I don't know what."

"Bob!" Mrs. Bellmon said almost sorrowfully. He held up his hand to silence her.

"The first thing you do when you face a situation like this is assess the damage," Bellmon went on. "Marjorie, how much have you talked about Jack. . . about where he is and what he's doing, to your friends?"

"What exactly is he doing?" Bobby demanded.

"I haven't asked for questions," Bellmon said flatly.

"I've told some people he's been at Hurlburt," Marjorie said.

"But not what he's doing. I know better than that."

"I hope so," Bellmon said.

"But, Daddy, I know," Marjorie said. "I know Colonel Fulbright's involved, and Uncle Sandy, and Uncle Craig, and I know about the B-26s, and I guess I've known from the first that they were being sent to Africa. But I haven't said anything to anybody about that."

"And I gather you know at least as much as Marjorie?" Bellmon said to his wife.

"The only thing Craig told me was that they were going to pick Jack's brains at Hurlburt," Barbara said. "Obviously that had to do with Africa. But I didn't hear anything about B26s until just now."

"And how much have you told Marjorie, Jack?" General Bellmon asked.

"I told her I was flying."

"B-26s? Stripped of identification numbers?" Bellmon asked, and Jack nodded. "No one told you to keep your mouth shut about what you were doing? That the classification is Top Secret?"

"Yes, Sir," Jack said, "but-"

"But what?" Bellmon asked, tiredly, resignedly.

"For God's sake," Jack said, "you're a general. She's a general's daughter. I wasn't running off at the mouth in a saloon."

"Just to make my point," Bellmon said, "do you have any reason to believe that Second Lieutenant Bellmon here is cleared for Top Secret -Eagle?"

"No, Sir," Jack admitted.

"Then do you think you should have said in his hearing anything at all about flying unmarked B-26 aircraft out of Hurlburt Field?"

"I don't mean to sound flip, General," Jack said, "but I don't think it's very likely that he's a Russian spy."

"He's twenty-one years old and a second lieutenant," Bellmon said. "I think it's reasonable to presume that with a couple of beers in him at the officer's club, and if the conversation lagged, he might just mention that his sister's boyfriend, a PFC, is flying unmarked B-26s out of an Air Force base. Especially since no one told him it's Top Secret."

"That's not fair, Daddy, to either Jack or Bobby!" Marjorie said.

"Lieutenant Bellmon," General Bellmon said formally, "through no fault of your own you have been made privy to certain classified information regarding Operation Eagle. It is my duty to order you not to, divulge, or discuss in any way, what you have heard with anyone, and to inform you that if you should so do, it will render you liable to such punishment as a court-martial may impose."