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On behalf of the Director,

And with warmest personal regards,

Clyde

C. A. Tolson

* * *

Douglass’s eyebrows went up.

Donovan saw that and said, “Wondering why Tolson sent that, are you?”

As deputy director of the FBI, Clyde Tolson was nearly inseparable from Hoover. Both on and off the job. Their relationship was so close in fact that rumors of homosexuality circled regularly, though Donovan dismissed the dirty tales as more of the vicious undercurrent that was Washington politics.

“A little,” Douglass said as he leaned forward and passed the paper to Fulmar, and added, “Your mission’s most recent intel, Lieutenant. Word to the wise: Don’t take it at face value.”

“Yes, sir,” Fulmar said, and began reading the confidential message.

Donovan explained, “While the President told the director to keep us—the OSS—informed of any and all updates, he did not say that the director had to do so personally.”

“Then using Tolson is his way of following what he considers a distasteful order,” Douglass said, “without bringing himself to the level of a lowly field operative.”

Douglass caught Fulmar’s eyes dart at him.

“No offense, Lieutenant. No one in this room has anything but the highest regard for field ops.”

Fulmar knew that that certainly was the case with Wild Bill Donovan—his reputation as a first-rate battlefield commander was above reproach, made all the more so by his Medal of Honor from the First War—and while Douglass’s history was not necessarily as well known, Fulmar had to believe (a) that Donovan would not tolerate anyone but a true believer as his number two, and (b) that with Doug Douglass being one competent fearless sonofabitch, he had had to have learned that from someone and that someone most likely was his father.

“None taken, sir,” Fulmar said.

“That crack about not taking Tolson’s update at face value was not entirely facetious,” Douglass said.

He looked at Donovan. “I am somewhat suspicious as to why they have provided that information to us so quickly. We usually have to pry the weather report from them.”

Donovan nodded. “Just take that into consideration as you review the file, Lieutenant.”

“I will, sir.”

“How are you fixed for a place to stay here?” Douglass asked.

“I need something, sir, but I don’t anticipate for long, maybe a night or two. I’d like to get on the trail of these guys as soon as possible.”

Douglass looked at Donovan, who nodded.

“We have a place on Q Street,” Douglass then said. “I’ll have Chief Ellis make arrangements for that, as well as anything else you’ll need.”

Douglass stood, then Donovan followed.

“Good luck,” the director of the OSS said, offering his hand.

Fulmar quickly got to his feet and shook the director’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“Grab that file,” Douglass said, “and a sticky bun, if you like”—he nodded toward the door—“and we can be on our way.”

[ FOUR ]

Room 909