Authors: Margit Liesche
Tags: #Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General, #Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Historical, #Fiction / War & Military, #1939-1945, #World War, #Motion pictures, #1939-1945/ Fiction, #Women air pilots/ Fiction, #Motion pictures - Production and direction, #Motion pictures/ Production and direction/ Fiction, #Women air pilots
Miss C’s call came through early the next morning.
“It’s truly sad,” Miss C said, her voice catching. “We’d just located Frankie’s uncle, were cutting the red tape to bring him home when I got word. He’s put us onto another relative stateside, and she’s been contacted as well. Funeral arrangements are underway. Her uncle will get to Hollywood in a day or two to accompany the body back home. I gave him your name as a contact.”
“So you’re suggesting I stay on here?”
“You’re
expected
to remain there. There’s an investigation—investigations—to wrap up. You’ll be summoned to the inquest at March. Can’t believe that goon of an officer tried to cover up the incident. He’ll be facing a court martial for what he did…
didn’t
do. What was he thinking? You could have been killed, too!”
The officer hadn’t been involved in the sabotage of my flight, but I didn’t bother correcting her, since his lack of action had contributed to all the events that followed. She’d spoken of investigations in the plural, and it was likely she’d already been briefed. But Gunnar was running the other case involving the blackmail and murder of Brody, and she was sensitive about my nonflying duties. Last night Gunnar had been consumed with activity, dealing with the enemy triumvirate Winwar, Abbado (deceased), and Lorenz. I didn’t know how much she’d been told about them or even about my face-off with Cardillac, and I wasn’t sure how much I should say.
I began a different tack. “Your Staggerwing…”
“Oh, don’t worry. Bulk’s taken a look. She’ll be fine.” She cleared her throat. “Rask called. You didn’t stop at putting us on the right track with Frankie’s incident; you helped take down another enemy cabal like you did in Detroit.” Clear across the country, I could feel the warmth of her approval pulsing through the telephone line as she added, “You know, Lewis, these are just the sort of direct—and indirect—contributions that will have a positive impact on my…
our
program.”
Before I could get in a “thank you,” she let me know she’d also spoken with Della.
Admitting she had no business talking to me about such things over the telephone, she lowered her voice to a confidential tone and told me what she’d learned. Did I know that Della’s friend Bela Lugosi was orchestrating Hollywood types to record messages for Allied patriots in Hungary? It was hush-hush and that was all she could say
except
it was rumored that besides Lugosi, Bela Bartok, Charles Vidor, Ilona Massey, and Zoltan Korda were all planning to broadcast personal appeals to native Hungarians in the underground to resist the Germans. Della’s housekeeper’s seventy-something grandmother was in on it. Who would have thought? “Our kind of gal, right Lewis? Did you meet her?”
I was speechless. I’d never bumped up against this side of Miss C. Besides, as an intelligence operative I was sworn to secrecy. Was this some sort of test?
Ignoring the barrage concerning
Magyar Amerika
, I thanked her for the earlier compliments relating to my work. Then I got down to the disheartening business preying on my mind since last night.
“Miss C, Cardillac’s body has not been recovered. The Coast Guard searched the waters all night. The beaches in the area are still being combed. The doll washed up with the diamonds still in it, but as of this morning, there’s been no sign of her. I can’t figure it out.”
There was a moment of silence. My heart thumped loudly. Had I spoken out of turn?
“Lewis, all that can be done is being done. It’s highly possible Cardillac has been carried out to sea or that sharks or such have taken care of the matter. The situation is out of your hands. We can’t control everything.”
Her search for Earhart, mine for Cardillac
.
“I read your script revisions,” she continued, “they arrived by courier pouch last night. I also had a long chat with Novara. You’ve done an excellent job in turning the film—and him—around. Thank you. I’d like to rely on you to complete the ferrying and towing scenes, oversee the rough cut of the film. And…show off the P-51. Will you agree?”
I wasn’t looking forward to an extended tutelage in filmmaking under Novara, in spite of the long way he’d come. I’d rather fly, or do more undercover work. But on the bright side, there was the promised ride in the P-51.
“Fine,” I said, evenly. “And can I get your go-ahead to convince Novara to dedicate the Victory film to Frankie, and to the memory of the other nine WASPs who’ve gone before her?”
“Of course. Now why didn’t I think of that?” She paused. “Lewis, it’s clear you have talents beyond being a pilot. Talents needed by our country. Delicate matters, with many layers of complexities and subtleties…” She cleared her throat. “Be assured, if while working on the WASP film something comes up where your skills are absolutely needed, I’ll be in touch.” Then, as if she’d been holding back a laugh, like we were in on a private joke together, she chuckled. “Oh, and I suspect you’ll find it easier to walk in Novara’s shoes now…” Another chortle. “Now that he’s wearing made-in-America.”
I laughed out loud.
The WASP program met its objective in showing that women could serve as military pilots. Their statistics compared favorably with those of their male counterparts: the women had as much endurance, were no more subject to fatigue, flew as regularly and for as many hours as the men.
More than 25,000 women applied to become WASPs, 1,830 were accepted for training, and 1,074 won their wings. In all, thirty-eight WASPs died in service of their country.
The WASP program existed from November 1942 to December 1944. The women exceeded expectations and made a huge contribution to the war effort, yet were not militarized during the time they served. Indeed, until 1979, the nation refused to recognize WASP as veterans for purpose of disability and other benefits. March 8, 1979, Congress at last passed the GI Improvement Act which authorized the Secretary of Defense to determine that WASP duty was active military service.
***
Jackie Cochran went on to become The First Lady of Flight.
According to the National Air and Space Museum exhibit, Smithsonian Institution, 1981:
At the time of her death on August 9, 1980, Jacqueline Cochran held more speed, altitude and distance records than any other pilot, male or female, in aviation history. Her career spanned 40 years, from the Golden Age of the 1930s as a racing pilot, through the turbulent years of World War II as founder and head of the Women’s Air Force Service Pilot WASP program, into the jet age, when she became the first female pilot to fly faster than the speed of sound. She was a 14-time winner of the Harmon trophy for the outstanding female pilot of the year and was accorded numerous other awards and honors in addition to the trophies she won with her flying skills.”
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