"That we do, Sir."
"Sit down, Cynthia," Whittaker said.
"Take a load off. Have a bite to eat. We have several hours to kill."
Glowering at him, she walked to the head of the table and stabbed the call button on the floor with her toe.
"For a moment, there, I thought she was going to slug me with her purse," Whittaker said.
"Didn't it look that way to you?"
"You sonofabitch," Cynthia said.
"Nice to see you, too. Miss Chenowith," Whittaker said.
The cook appeared.
"I'd like some breakfast," Cynthia said.
"Greg, are you hungry?"
"I missed breakfast," he said.
"Bring us, please, the same thing they had," Cynthia said.
"You may sit down, Lieutenant," Whittaker said.
Lieutenant Hammersmith didn't move.
"I'll rephrase," Whittaker said.
"Sit down, Lieutenant."
"Damn you, play your games with me, but leave Greg alone."
""Greg'?" Whittaker parroted mockingly.
"Wonderwoman to the rescue of "Greg'?"
"You really are a bastard, Jimmy," she said.
"You miss the point, Cynthia," Whittaker said.
"The one thing I demand of my subordinates when I'm off saving the world for democracy is what they call instant, cheerful obedience."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Cynthia flared.
"I'm about to go into the Philippines," Whittaker said.
"If the lieutenant here is half the radio wizard Douglass tells me he is, and if I'm convinced he'll take orders, he's going with me."
"That's operational information," Cynthia flared.
"That's Top Secret. I'm going to tell Colonel Donovan you've been running off at the mouth again, and Ellis, damn you, too, you're my witness."
"Oh, you've got the Need-to-Know, Cynthia," Whittaker said.
"You're the control."