The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

‘‘Donovan wants this house for cloak-and-dagger purposes, ’’ he said. ‘‘I told him he could have it.’’

‘‘Well, he gets me with it,’’ she said. ‘‘Did you tell him that?’’

‘‘Certainly,’’ he said. ‘‘I said, ‘Bill, our old pal Tom’s daughter isn’t just living in the garage apartment, she’s my mistress.’ ’’

‘‘I don’t like that word,’’ she said. ‘‘It suggests I’m doing it for money.’’

‘‘No offense, my darling,’’ he said.

‘‘I’m your lover,’’ she said. ‘‘I don’t know why you refuse to accept that.’’

‘‘Possibly because I am afraid there is an element of gratitude in our relationship.’’

‘‘Who seduced who?’’ she asked.

‘‘I wish I really knew,’’ he said.

‘‘I don’t know whether to cry or throw something at you,’’ she said.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then he shrugged.

‘‘Will you ask if I can keep the apartment?’’ she asked.

‘‘Or I’ll get you a better place,’’ he said.

‘‘If I can’t stay here, I’ll get another place,’’ she said. ‘‘Maybe that will shut you up once and for all about this. I want you in my bed because you’re you, not because you’re paying the rent.’’

She had his zipper open. His erect organ sprang out. ‘‘Will you look at that!’’ Cynthia said.

‘‘You’re lewd and shameless,’’ he said, pushing her away, getting to his feet.

‘‘And doesn’t that make you happy?’’ she asked.

She walked around to the other side of the bed, slipped under the covers, and watched him finish undressing.

When he was done, she threw the covers off herself and held out her arms to him. In a moment he had entered the incredible warm soft wetness of her. At the same moment, tragically, his body had had enough.

He cried out, and the goddamned headache he had been trying to avoid all day finally struck him—with a vengeance. He’d never known pain so sudden and so sharp.

And then he was dead.

‘‘Chesty? Chesty, what’s the matter?’’ she asked.

She worked her way out from under him and sat up. Then with all her energy she rolled him over on his back. His eyes stared at her, but she instantly knew he did not see her.

‘‘Oh, Chesty!’’ she said, putting her balled fists to her mouth. As she had been taught to do, she felt the artery in his neck for a pulse. There was none.

After a few minutes, Cynthia pulled her robe on, and with infinite tenderness, as tears ran down her cheeks, she pulled Chesty’s eyelids shut.

The White House Washington, D.C. 7:05 P.M., December 7, 1941

Captain Peter Stuart Douglass, USN, was in the White House because he had become de facto deputy director of the Office of the Coordinator of Information. It hadn’t been planned that way. The original notion was that he would be assigned to Donovan because it would take him (and the fission-bomb project) out from under ONI and put it under Donovan, who had the ear of the President.

But in the beginning of the fission project, there really hadn’t been much to do beyond sending the people to England to see what could be learned of English and German efforts and to wait for the results of the experiments being conducted at the University of Chicago.

So he had started doing one t

hing and another for Donovan, and later it had seemed perfectly logical for him to assume duty as acting deputy director of COI until Donovan could find the proper man for the slot.