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Woody said: "I'll find you, wherever you are."
"You'd better."
"Don't talk like that. I'm already uncomfortable enough in this seat."
She smiled contentedly.
The American naval base came into view. A lagoon shaped like a palm leaf formed a large natural harbor. Half the Pacific Fleet was here, about a hundred ships. The rows of fuel storage tanks looked like checkers on a board.
In the middle of the lagoon was an island with an airstrip. At the western end of the island, Woody saw a dozen or more seaplanes moored.
Right next to the lagoon was Hickam air base. Several hundred aircraft were parked with military precision, wingtip to wingtip, on the tarmac.
Banking for its approach, the plane flew over a beach with palm trees and gaily striped umbrellas--which Woody guessed must be Waikiki--then a small town that had to be Honolulu, the capital.
Joanne was owed some leave by the State Department, but Woody had had to skip a week of classes in order to take this vacation. "I'm kind of surprised at your father," Joanne said. "He's usually against anything that interrupts your education."
"I know," said Woody. "But you know the real reason for this trip, Jo? He thinks it could be the last time we see Chuck alive."
"Oh, my God, really?"
"He thinks there's going to be a war, and Chuck is in the navy."
"I think he's right. There will be a war."
"What makes you so sure?"
"The whole world is hostile to freedom." She pointed to the book in her lap, a bestseller called Berlin Diary by the radio broadcaster William Shirer. "The Nazis have Europe," she said. "The Bolsheviks have Russia. And now the Japanese are taking control of the Far East. I don't see how America can survive in such a world. We have to trade with somebody!"
"That's pretty much what my father thinks. He believes we'll go to war against Japan next year." Woody frowned thoughtfully. "What's happening in Russia?"
"The Germans don't seem quite able to take Moscow. Just before I left there was a rumor of a massive Russian counterattack."
"Good news!"
Woody looked out. He could see Honolulu airport. The plane would splash down in a sheltered inlet alongside the runway, he presumed.
Joanne said: "I hope nothing major happens while I'm away."
"Why?"
"I want a promotion, Woods--so I don't want someone bright and promising to shine in my absence."
"Promotion? You didn't say."
"I don't have it yet, but I'm aiming for research officer."
He smiled. "How high do you want to go?"
"I'd like to be ambassador to someplace fascinating and complex, Nanking or Addis Ababa."
"Really?"
"Don't look skeptical. Frances Perkins is the first woman secretary of labor--and a damn good one."
Woody nodded. Perkins had been labor secretary from the start of Roosevelt's presidency eight years ago, and had won union support for the New Deal. An exceptional woman could aspire to almost anything nowadays. And Joanne was truly exceptional. But somehow it came as a shock to him that she was so ambitious. "But an ambassador has to live overseas," he said.
"Wouldn't it be great? Foreign culture, weird weather, exotic customs."
