Whittaker and Eric Fulmar. The order went on to say that Baker was authorized-if he so chose-to take one or both of the aforesaid patients into his personal custody. "I'll have to check this, you understand, Sir," the brigadier general said. A telephone call to the Chief of Staff confirmed that Fort Knox had no choice but to comply with the court order. The brigadier general then called in the post provost marshal, who drove Canidy and Baker to the station hospital in a Chevrolet sedan with a chrome siren on the fender. The station hospital was a sprawling complex of single-story frame buildings. It was brand new-still smelling of freshly sawed lumber and paint-and it was built on gently undulating land half a mile from the brick buildings of the main post. After the hospital commander, a tall, heavy, white-mustachio ed full colonel, was shown the court order, he told them that Whittaker and Fulmar were in private rooms in a private ward, and that he would personally escort them there. "Whittaker first," Canidy said. The private ward was in a fenced-in portion of the neuropsychiatric division of the hospital.
Sections of hurricane fence enclosed a small porch. Fence material was nailed over the windows. A military policeman was in the corridor, and another sat outside the fence on a folding chair under a small tree.
"What's his physical condition, Colonel?" Baker asked.
"Physically-and so far as I am concerned mentally-there is nothing wrong with Captain Whittaker," the hospital commander said.
"He was a mess when they brought him here, but once we got rid of his parasites and got some food into him, he came right around."
"I'm glad to hear that," Baker said. "I've been told to ask you no questions, and as a soldier I'll obey my orders. But I don't mind telling you that I don't like a hospital ward being used as a prison," the hospital commander said.
"I don't think it's either ethical or legal."
Good for you, Colonel! Canidy thought. "Wouldn't you say, Colonel," Baker said coldly, "that the Attorney General would be the best judge of that?" The colonel did not back down. "The Supreme Court, perhaps," he said.
"I'm not sure about the Attorney General." Canidy chuckled, and Baker glared at him. The MP unlocked the door to a room, then held it open for Canidy, Baker, and the hospital commander. "Captain Whittaker," the doctor said.
"These gentlemen have been sent from Washington to see you."
"I'll be god damned," Whittaker said. He was in a red hospital bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. He had been reading Life magazine.
"Thank you, Doctor," Baker said, "I'll take it from here." The hospital commander left, closing the door after him, and almost immediately Canidy heard the lock being snapped shut. Whittaker looked suspiciously at Canidy but got out of his chair and offered his hand.
"Hello, Jimmy," Canidy said.
"How the hell are you?" You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you. Not only physically. You must have put on forty pounds.
And that nutty look in your eyes is gone. "This is the prison ward," Whittaker said.
"Or the lunatic ward. Or the prison slash lunatic ward. How the hell do you think I am?"
"I hear you got rid of Clarence," Canidy said. "Yeah," Whittaker said.
"And he was a persistent bastard. It took about ten pounds of quinine to kill him. I was as yellow as a daisy for a while."
"It must run in the family," Canidy said.
"Your aunt Barbara told me that Chesly had one in-somewhere in the Far East."
"I've heard that story," Whittaker said, and then he looked coldly at El don C. Baker." Who're you?" he asked. "His name is Baker," Canidy said.
"Watch out for him. He's a sonofabitch. But be nice to him. He has the power to get you out of
here."
"Uncle Franklin is no longer pissed?" Whittaker asked.
"I am to be sprung from durance vile?"
"That's up to you," Canidy said.
"Some people think you're a bomb about to go off. Others think you may be useful to them. Once you hear why, you may want to stay in the loony bin." Whittaker looked at Baker curiously. "Has Dick told you about Morocco, Captain Whittaker?" Baker asked. "No," Whittaker said simply."
You know, Baker," Canidy said." Loose lips lose ships.
"You are aware that he and I work for the Office of the Coordinator of Information?"
"Yes," Whittaker said. "Would you mind telling me what you know about the COV' Whittaker shrugged.