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OSS Field Office, San Francisco

Hunters Point Naval Shipyard

San Francisco California

January  1943

  

Major Sam Spade, Special Agent United States Office of Strategic Services, walked out of the non descript Quonset Hut at Hunters Point Naval Shipyard and walked towards the front gate. Dressed in a US Navy Lieutenant Commander uniform he saluted the Marine guard at the gate. Leaning on the shed was an older distinguished looking man dressed in an impeccable Seville Row suit.

 

Spade smiled as he walked up and offered his hand, “Damn it General, why didn’t you call first.”

 

Major General William “Wild Bill” Donovan, head of the OSS, pushed himself off the side of the shed and returned the handshake with a firm confident hand.  “I wanted to surprise you Sam, but the PFC at the gate has never heard of the OSS. In fact he said he was going to call the local police and have me arrested! I just now got him to call you.”

 

Sam laughed heartily at the very thought of the chief the American spy network sitting in a local jail cell. “I could see J. Edgar Hoover being very pleased at that picture!”

 

Bill gave a weak smile “Well let’s not think of the FBI and move to business, do you have somewhere we can talk that’s secure, and I mean real secure?”

 

“Yeah, my office, but not this one, lets go to my old office. I haven’t used it in a couple years, but I still rent it.” Sam gestured towards the Quonset Hut. “Every other week Naval Intelligence sweeps this office for bugs, then I have our boys sweep it for the bugs the Navy puts in.”

 

Bill chuckled at the joke and followed Sam to the taxi stand. Hailing a taxi the pair rode in silence to an office building just south of Market Street. As Sam got out he looked at his old office building, nine stories and built just after the last quake. He wasn’t sure it was going to last another quake sometimes. They walked through the front door to find an empty lobby and, noting the sign the elevator was inoperative, walked up the stairs to the third floor. They stopped in front of a door marked “S. Spade, Private Investigations” a small handwritten sign below proclaimed “Closed, Sam went to war.” As he unlocked the door Sam looked for three telltales, a hair in the doorjamb, a thread at the top of the door, a bit of paper carefully placed at the bottom of the door.

   

Sam smiled and stepped in, just how he had left it when he went to war. His files in battered cabinets, his secretary’s desk and chair now empty, a hat rack, and a wooden bench for the clients. Nothing fancy but all functional. Sam leaned down and looked at the floor. A fine coating of talcum powder had been spread out, it was even and unmarked and so no one had been in. The two walked towards a door marked “Private” and Sam went through the same telltale inspection for the door to his private office and the windows to the street.

 

“Nice tradecraft Sam, very nice” Bill said. For Bill that was high praise.

 

Sam sat down and opened a drawer in this desk, pulled out a bottle and poured two drinks in mismatched glasses.

 

“Absent friends” Bill said, Sam nodded as he sipped his whiskey.

 

“OK,” Sam said, “what’s the mission? You wouldn’t take this much security if the mission was the simple invasion of Japan.”  

The sarcasm failed on Donovan, as he settled back into his chair and started to speak. “Sam, you were recommended to the OSS by the SFPD because of your reputation as a tough street level private eye.” Sam squirmed in his seat. Bill held up his hand and said, “Let me finish, I know about the one case you never could solve and we will get to that momentarily. Your operations in Morocco and Tunisia gained you a reputation as a tough agent, quick to act and your actions are valid. And without your behind the lines mission in Casablanca, Operation Torch would not have succeeded. Those medals you wear are not just for your cover story as a Navy JAG, you earned them.  You have done very well for your country and for yourself. Now we have a mission most agents dream of, it’s a mission that may change the tide of the war. But is a mission only you can do, in fact it’s a mission that only comes once a lifetime, but for you Sam, it has come twice in a lifetime.”

Sam lit a cigarette, inhaled, and leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Why the softsoap general, just ask or you could even order me on this mission. You don’t need to sell it to me.”

 

“This time I do Sam” Bill reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather folder. He opened it and started reading…

 

"In 1539, the Knights Templar of Malta paid tribute to Charles V of Spain by sending him a Golden Bird encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels, As a disguise it was covered in a coat of lead and painted black.” Sam bolted upright in his chair sending the whiskey and cigarette flying, Bill continued as if nothing happened. “Pirates seized the galley carrying this priceless token and the fate of the Golden Bird was a mystery until yesterday." Bill looked up from the folder and continued. "No matter what you uncovered a few years ago we got word the Bird never made it here. An agent of ours working on another case found the bill of lading yesterday at the U.S. Customs office in Honolulu, two black bird statues from Algeria on-route to San Francisco. It was noted on the customs sheet the one of the birds had paint flaking off and gold was underneath, it was held for further inspection by customs. There is no final inspection report. Sam, it’s still in Honolulu somewhere.”

 

Bill laid a photograph on the desk, Sam picked it up and studied it. It was a picture of a cheap picture postcard taken on a desk with a Minox “agent” camera. He had taken many pictures like these on missions behind the lines. Bill continued:

 

“Don’t ask where this came from, I can't tell you. The name is false and as you can see its addressed to General Delivery, Honolulu Post Office so anyone can pick it up without ID. The handwriting is sloppy but reads ‘The Boys from New York are coming for the Bird and should arrive next week.’ Sam, do you know about the organization called ‘The Boys from New York?’”

 

Sam, still in shock, could only shake his head no.

 

“The very head of organized crime in America. You do remember Al Capone and his gang?”

 

“Yeah, of course I do”

 

“Capone paid them tribute, that’s how powerful they are." Bill put several police booking type photographs on the desk. "We think we know who they are, here is the initial roster, that of course may change as we get further information.”

 

Sam settled in his chair and and lit a cigarette trying to regain his composure  “Ok, Hawaii is under Martial Law for the duration of the war, so we deny them a rail or air priority. No one can get anywhere without a priority.”

 

“They already have one, a ‘Six A’ priority,” Bill said as he handed over another photograph od a document.  “And neither we, nor the FBI know where it came from. And they are flying in there own airplane, again we dont know how they get it.”  Bill leaned forward, “Sam, its still possible Spain might come into this war on the side of the Axis. That’s another 35 plus divisions Hitler can throw at us when we invade Europe. Giving that Golden Bird back to Spain will gain us great favor with Franco. The Boys will melt it down for the gold and jewels, they care only for profit.”

 

“General, what do you want me to do?”

 

“We are calling it "Operation Black Eagle." You take a team and go to Hawaii, get that Bird before 'The Boys' do.”

 

Sam leaned back and looked at the ceiling…. Another chance to fix his failed career as a P.I. The Gold Bird slipped through his fingers once, it wont happen again.

The Cast

Office of Stragic Services

General          Major Samuel Spade, Special Agent U.S. OSS

Adjutant         CWO Johan D. Arcuni, US Army Counterintelligence Corps

Medical          Capt John “Smiley” Crowder MD, US Navy Medical Corps

Security         Special Agent David Ellsworth, F.B.I.

 

 

The Boys from New York  

General          Vinni “The Cappo de Cappo” Scaramouch

X.O.                 Erick “Big red” Erikson

Medical           Dr. Reveloro D’Mata, MD, PsyPhD, FACS

Security          Pierre "Frenchie" Dumont