Code Name: Orion's Eye; Signed

THE U.S. HAS A BATTLE WINNING TECHNOLOGY THAT NAZI GERMANY NEEDS TO SURVIVE

1943 World War II is raging. OSS officer Major Amos Mead tracks the elusive Nazi spy, Otto Hauptmann. Nazi Germany must steal the new radar technology. Mead must prevent it. From London and Berlin the race begins, finally converging in the South Pacific on the high seas where the lives of thirteen hundred men hang in the balance.

There was a sharp rap on the door and an Aide stepped in at attention. "Mr. Bruce, sir, excuse me, sir, but you asked to be informed immediately if we heard more on the FBI arrest." He handed a file marked TOP SECRET to David Bruce. "Thank you, lieutenant." "Sir, there's more. `E Street' just confirmed that the technology the Germans were after had already left Fort Monmouth. It's going operational. The first stop for it was supposed to be Selfridge Army Air Corp Field in Michigan. There's a new special Fighter Control Squadron suppose to be taking custody of the stuff." "Any more, Lieutenant?" "No sir." A sharp about face and he exited. Bruce opened the file and quietly read the decoded wire. After a moment he looked up, "Gentlemen, this Buchanan-Dineen lady is singing along with her German spy heroes. FBI reports that she's turned another contact - a fellow named Ernest Lehmitz. The FBI picked him up too - in Mount Clemens, Michigan." Chandler Morse sat up straight. "Sir, that's where Selfridge Field is!" Bruce nodded, then looked around the group. "Connections, conclusions, gentlemen?" "Sir," Major Mead spoke, "Seems obvious that this crew was either after or tracking the technology or whatever it is. Do we know where it goes from Selfridge?" "Only that it's deploying with the Army Air Corp to the Pacific. No details here," Pearson added. Mead set the pointer on the easel's ledge and stepped toward the table. "The urgent messages to Mexico and Brazil from Berlin .... they track west," he said. "And the Germans are jumping all over Hauptmann." He turned to Pearson. "Sir, Otto Hauptmann is one of their best, one of Himmler's personal spy dogs." Pearson asked, "And ... how connected?" Mead crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. "I was curious about the frantic tone of those Berlin intercepts...." He turned back to the group. "Tie that to this new information and I think when the New Jersey bunch blew their mission Otto Hauptmann was called in to pick it up - farther west. Somebody's going to have their hands full with him. He's smart - and ruthless. This guy's a Nazi's Nazi." Pearson stood and made eye contact with Bruce. Bruce nodded a knowing assent. Pearson turned and put a hand on Mead's shoulder. "Somebody does have their hands full, Major Mead. Get your gear together and report back here at 0900 tomorrow. We'll have a package of all we know ready for you. Your flight leaves from Heathrow for Washington at 1100 hrs." "Me, Sir? Are you sure? I'm no spook," Mead said. Bruce smiled. "Don't need a spook, Major. Your qualifications fit the bill - besides, you dug all this up. You'll learn more at `E Street' in DC from the OSS staff people. Chandler here will keep up the intercepts and stay in touch with you. You've both been cleared for use of MAGIC, so communication should stay timely." Bruce sat down at the table and shuffled his papers into a neat pile. "One more piece of information, Major," he continued. "The technology they're after - it's got a name. Code Name: ORION'S EYE." "Auge Orions - I'll be damned", and Mead knew the meeting was over.

Major Amos Mead, USMCR, climbed the rattling metal steps toward the open door of the aircraft, his military issue Valv-Pak bag in his right hand, the courier pouch joined to his left wrist by a chained handcuff. Moments later, the C-75 StratoCruiser taxied to the end of the runway, ran up the four Pratt & Whitney cyclone engines and began her takeoff roll. Mead felt the tail rise, followed shortly by the almost gentle sway that signaled wheels up. The sky bright blue, clouds placed for effect, the long Atlantic flight lay ahead. Amos Mead had figured that he would soon be parachuting into Nazi Europe with other OSS operatives to support the French Maquis - and maybe even blow up a few things himself. This was why he wanted to be in the outfit. Now he was headed in quite the opposite direction - West - to chase down phantom spies, or God knows what else. Unlocking the pouch, Mead slipped a sheaf of papers onto his lap. He scanned copies of `Saint' messages (OSS indicator of counterespionage message content) that didn't tell him much more than he'd heard in the London meeting. A message from `Cassia', the OSS underground contact in Austria, confirmed that the senior Hauptmann was ill and in hospital, and that Otto had been there and rushed back to Berlin. Give me something new. Maybe this Army stuff. ... Movement Orders Shipment 0445: Code Designation 0445-D, 1st Fighter Control Squadron moving from Selfridge Field to March Field in California. ORION'S EYE on the move? A note from Bruce: Army unit will be testing on west coast before deploying to SWPA (South West Pacific Area). Officer list attached. Best we know they will embark on tro[p ship SS Cape San Juan in October. Ship's officers list included. Mead ran a finger down the list, "I'll be damned," he said out loud. I know this guy... Donovan I. Gochais in the Merchant Marine... 3d Mate.