"There was a Texaco truck going in," McCoy said. "With a load of kerosene. I gave the driver fifty yuan to take me with him. And then bring me back."

"And what did you do, Corporal McCoy, when you were in Nantung?" Banning asked.

The question seemed to surprise McCoy.

"I told you," he said. "I went to a whorehouse. One that the Jap officers go to."

"And there were Japanese officers in this brothel?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did the Japanese officers think when they found a Marine Corps corporal in their whorehouse?" Banning asked. But before McCoy could reply, he went on: "They obviously did not see you, or you wouldn't be here. Did it occur to you, McCoy, that if they did see you, and they didn't slice your head off at the Adam's apple, I would have your ass if and when you came back?''

"They saw me," McCoy said, "They thought I was an Italian that works for Texaco. One of them had been in Rome and thought he talked Italian."

"Goddamn you, McCoy," Banning said. "You were ordered to leave the snooping to Lieutenant Macklin."

"You said not to go near them," McCoy said. "I thought you meant I wasn't to get near the compound. I didn't. I went

o a whorehouse. And you made it sound like finding out about the trucks was important."

"And you're sure they didn't suspect you were a Marine?" Banning asked.

Dumb fucking question. Banning. If they suspected he was a Marine, he wouldn't be here.

"They thought I was Angelo Salini, from Napoli," McCoy said, both matter-of-factly and a little smugly. "I went to high school with a guy with that name."

"And they told you about the trucks?" Banning asked.

"No, sir," McCoy said. "We just had a couple of drinks and messed around with the whores. The whores told me about the trucks."

Do I bring him up on charges for disobeying what was a direct order? Or do I commend him for his initiative?

"And did the ladies tell you what kind of trucks?" Banning said. "Or how many?"

"Just 'army trucks,' " McCoy said. "And since I couldn't go near the compound, I couldn't find out," McCoy said.

"Why should I believe this whorehouse scuttlebutt?" Banning asked.

"I don't know if you should or not, Captain," McCoy said. "But that's what I found out, and since Lieutenant Macklin wasn't going to report it, I figured I should."

Which means, of course, that he first told this to Macklin. Which means that Macklin knew McCoy had done something he wasn't supposed to do, and which Macklin should have reported to me. But if Macklin did report him, his own failure would be even more conspicuous. Sonofabitch!

"And did your lady friends tell you when all this is going to happen?"

McCoy nodded.

"By the time the next convoy goes through Sьchow, one or the other of the regiments will probably be gone," McCoy said. "Maybe on the way back, one of them will already be back, and you could count the trucks."

"If you were on the next convoy, do you suppose you could count the trucks?" Banning asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to rephrase the question," Banning said. "Being fully aware of the risks involved-which means that if the Japanese catch you, they will more than likely break every bone in your body with clubs, and then behead you-would you be willing to try to get some photographs of the trucks, of their motorpool, photographs close enough up so that the bumper markings could be read?"

"I don't have a camera, Captain."

"I'll get you a camera, McCoy," Banning said.

"Then, yes, sir," McCoy said.

The cold- blooded decision, Banning realized, was whether or not it was worth it to determine if the Japanese were motorizing one of their divisions. It would be more than embarrassing if the Japanese caught this corporal. What he'd told McCoy would happen to him if he were caught was not hyperbole.

"Take the rest of the day off, McCoy," Banning said. "I want to have another talk with Lieutenant Macklin, and I want to think about this."

"He's liable to be pissed I went over his head," McCoy said.

"Don't worry about that," Banning said. "You're assigned to S-2. You work for me."

"Thank you, sir," McCoy said.

The moment McCoy walked out of his office, Banning had further thoughts about what he had just said. There was no question in his mind that the Japanese knew his name, as well as the names of everybody who worked closely with S-2. If it came to their attention that a corporal of his was making another trip on the Tientsin-Peking run, they were liable to drag him out of a truck on general principles.

But, he realized, they'd believe they had an officer in a corporal's uniform. Japanese corporals were not dispatched on missions of espionage, and therefore they could not imagine that Americans would do it either.

He realized he had already decided to send McCoy back to Peking on the next convoy.

Very early the next morning, Banning was summoned to the colonel's office. The colonel was in a near-rage.

"Are you aware, Banning, that there was a 'Welcome Home, Killer McCoy' party at the club last night? Complete with a banner saying exactly that?"

The club was called the "Million-Dollar Club," because it had allegedly cost that much to build fourteen years earlier, before the 4th Marines had come to China. It was on Bubbling Well Road, on the way to Shanghai's elegant race track.

"No, sir," Banning said. "I was not."

"What it looks like to the Italians is that we promoted him for stabbing those people," the colonel said. "If they haven't heard about it yet, the Italians soon will. We're going to have to get that kid out of Shanghai again, and quickly."

"I'd planned to send him back to Peking with the next convoy, sir," Banning said.

"When does it go?"

"On Thursday, sir."

"Is there any way it can leave sooner, say tomorrow?"

"I'll have to check with the S-4, sir, to be absolutely sure, but offhand I can't think of any reason it can't."

"Check with him. If there's any problem, let me know."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"What about the last trip?" the colonel asked. "Anything interesting?"

"I have some fairly reliable information, sir, say seven on a scale of one to ten, that the 22nd Infantry at Sьchow is being motorized."

"That is interesting," the colonel said. "Wonder what the hell that's all about? Do they have that many trucks?"

"I'll be able to make a better guess when I have more information, sir. I'm going to try to get some photographs."

"Make sure whoever you send is a good man," the colonel said.

"Aye, aye, sir," Banning said. "I think he is."

"And get that damned Killer McCoy out of here as soon as possible. I don't want him waved like a red flag in front of the Italians."

"Aye, aye, sir."

(Three)

Headquarters, 4th Regiment, USMC

Shanghai, China

11 May 1941

When his sergeant opened the office door to tell him that Lieutenant Sessions had arrived, Captain Edward J. Banning, USMC, was looking out the window of his office at the trees just coming into bloom. He had been thinking about Milla. If it wasn't for this character Sessions he was waiting for, he could be with her in the apartment. He had forced the image of Milla in her underwear out of his mind by reminding himself that the price they were going to have to pay for the beauty of spring would be the smell that would shortly come from Shanghai's infamous sewers.

"Ask him to come in, please, Sergeant," Banning said.

He turned and hoisted himself onto the window ledge. He was high enough off the floor for his feet to dangle.

Lieutenant Edward Sessions, USMC, marched into the office. He was wearing civilian clothing, a seersucker suit and a straw hat with a stiff brim. He looked, Banning decided, like another Macklin, another handsome sonofabitch with a full head of hair and nice white teeth.