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David Bruce’s expression suggested that he did not exactly agree with that assessment.
“What about Ike?” Bruce then said.
“What about him?” Canidy said defensively.
“Has he been told?” Bruce went on.
“Told what?” Canidy said, his tone incredulous. “That we fucking took out a ship carrying nerve gas that his people said did not even exist? Jesus!”
Canidy drained his glass, then looked at Stevens.
“Give me that bottle, Ed. I can use another now.”
David Bruce made a face.
“Dick does make a good point,” Ed Stevens said evenly after he passed the bottle to Canidy. “Why muddy the waters?”
After a moment, David Bruce nodded.
; “Sorry, Dick,” he said. “I’m just trying to keep all the pieces in perspective. Now’s not the time for us to slow down. We’re making real progress. Thanks to our OSS agents in Sardinia you mentioned, eighty-four B-24 Liberators bombed La Maddalena on April tenth. They even sank the Italian heavy cruiser Trieste. And, of course, we took Bizerta and Tunis on May seventh.”
“More than a quarter million German and Italian prisoners,” Stevens said.
“And now,” Bruce added, “thanks to Ed Stevens and his new pals, it would appear the path to taking Sicily and Italy is clearing.”
Canidy looked at Stevens. “New pals?”
Stevens gave Canidy a copy of Lieutenant Commander Ewen Montagu’s OPERATION MINCEMEAT outline. When he’d read it, Stevens then gave Canidy an overview of the OSS’s contribution.
“We put together Major Martin at Whitbey House,” Ed Stevens said.
As he explained OSS Whitbey House Station’s participation, Canidy found himself laughing aloud at various points.
“I am really sorry I missed being a part of that,” Canidy said.
“I wish I had been of more help,” Stevens said, “but the others handled it marvelously.”
He then produced another typewritten page.
“That’s the report from ‘Jimmy’ Jewell—formally, Lieutenant N.L.A. Jewell—captain of HMS Seraph. Confirmation and details of the transport of the body and its launching off Spain on April thirtieth—two weeks ago. Pretty straightforward. Borderline boring, actually, as it all went according to plan.”
Canidy glanced at the page and nodded.
“Immediately after we got that signal,” Stevens said, “Montagu had the message traffic at the Admiralty reach a fevered pitch, all cranked up about the missing of Major Martin.”
Stevens took a moment to refreshen his scotch.
He went on: “On May second, the naval attaché in Madrid signaled that the body of Major Martin had been picked up off the coast. So the Admiralty responded to the naval attaché about the briefcase and its, quote, most secret, unquote, documents. The attaché then got hammered with urgent messages to get back every damn document—but don’t be too obvious. Don’t want the Spaniards getting suspicious, wink, wink. And return those documents to DNI immediately!”
Canidy chuckled.
“May fourth, they gave Major Martin a full military burial in Huleva.”
“And the briefcase?”
“Returned,” Stevens said. “Very, very carefully put back together.”
