Chapter 27

The mood of the group was relaxed. Liz's prognosis was excellent. A little nerve damage, but her face was well on the way to being restored. The Surgeon had fired one of his secretaries and the press were chasing some hint of an affair between Jimmy Stewart and Joan Chandler. David wished them every success.

They were sitting on the lounge in their suite. The ladies were drinking white wine, and the men were sipping bourbon.

Dragging deeply on his cigarette, Josh exhaled and sighed, "Ahh ... soon we'll be heading back to good ol' England. Let's just hope that that there's still something to come home too!"

Liz groaned. "I can't wait to get these bandages off. And much as I like your country David," she raised her glass toward him, ' I too am dreadfully keen to get back home." She looked pensive. "I can't help feel like I am betraying all those wonderful people who have to wake up every day to terror and hardship. This," she swung her wine glass around, "this seems a little sybaritic for my taste."

David replied, "Liz, I understand. I am not British, but I still feel a sense of guilt about all the blessings of my country." He thought for a moment, "I would love to come back with you, but I am sure I will have to return to my position on General Eisenhower's staff."

Julia laughed. "I wonder if you will be able to show your face in public ever again, David? What, with members of the secret service and the Mafia after you, I don't think you will be a popular person in the Pentagon."

"Everything has been done undercover," David replied. "I am an Envoy of the President after all! I ought to be safe enough, once I have placed my information in the General's hands."

Turning to Liz, Julia reported "I've been in touch with my bosses, and they can get us out on a Seaplane to Ireland early next week."

Again sighing, Josh raised his glass, "Here's to the the completion of a rather turbulent tour of duty! So, Ladies, gentleman, drink up, and then lets go find some place to dance the night away!"

They all raised their glasses and drank.

A few days after his friends left, David travelled by train to Washington, caught a cab and made his way down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Willard. Walking through the foyer with its art deco décor, he entered the ground floor bar and sat down at the bar. He hoped Dwight had understood his message. They had come here to this bar a few times and drank and discussed the stock market, among other things.

Soon enough, David saw the general approach. He got and began to salute.

"Enough of that son!" Dwight spoke quietly. "No need to advertise more then we have to." He laughed, and gestured with his head toward a couple of darked suited men who had followed him into the bar.