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He then quickly returned the cork to the open neck of the bottle and pushed it in noisily with a smack of the palm of his hand.

Charity Hoche let loose a pleasant peal of laughter.

“Very nicely done,” she said. “I believe that would be what is called a dry martini.”

“Very dry,” Niven said, smiling.

“And it should be noted,” Fleming added, “shaken, not stirred.”

Niven picked up one glass, raised it to his lips, took a sip, then sighed.

“Perfection!” he exclaimed.

He motioned to the other glasses.

“Please, enjoy.”

After the first of the martinis disappeared, Major David Niven instructed Private Peter Ustinov to begin preparing a second round using the Prime Minister’s personal martini recipe.

Lieutenant Ed Stevens emptied his glass, then got up from his chair. He walked around the table to where First Lieutenant Charity Hoche sat conversing with Commander Ian Fleming.

Stevens touched her lightly on the shoulder.

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Stevens said. “Charity, before we get too deep into this next round, could I please have a word with you?”

She looked up at him, as if awaiting some explanation.

Stevens added, “Just a bit of housekeeping before the night gets away from us.”

He nodded toward the main door.

Charity Hoche stood, and everyone else at the table still seated also stood.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” she said.

As Stevens and Charity left, everyone but Ustinov, counting aloud as he stood shaking the shaker, returned to their seats.

Stevens and Charity walked to the doorway, then went through it.

Outside the pub, in the main corridor of Whitbey House, the noise level dropped noticeably.

“Good,” Stevens said. “Now I can at least hear myself.”

“What’s this all about?” Charity asked.

“This is not something that David or Ian could not hear,” Stevens explained. “I just wanted to make sure that you heard it, that it didn’t get lost in the noise in there, and you could have time to think about it.”

“Okay.”

“This situation with Operation Mincemeat. David Bruce still is smarting about having been left out of the loop for the Manhattan Project. Now that wound has been reopened because he thinks he’s also been kept in the dark on Mincemeat. He thought that I knew about the op, and it took some real work from David to convince him otherwise.”

Charity nodded.

“I had no idea about it before David and Ian called yesterday after they had run into John Ford.”

Ford, at forty-seven, was a real heavy hitter in Hollywood. Now he was using his award-winning filmmaking skills on the front lines—and getting injured in the process. The documentary he’d made in 1942, The Battle of Midway, had won an Academy Award.

Stevens went on: “He’s the chief of our Field Photographic Branch. He has been helping set up shop at London Station and getting ready to go back into the field. When Niven found out that he was there, he took the idea of Mincemeat to him. Next thing I know, I’m involved.”