James Bond Anthology (230 page)

They followed him down and along a passage to the mess hall, a well-lighted dining-room finished in cream with pastel pink and green panels. They took their places at the head of one of the Formica-top tables away from the other officers and men, who looked curiously at the two civilians. The captain waved a hand at the walls of the room. ‘Bit of a change from the old battleship grey. You’d be surprised how many eggheads are involved in the design of these ships. Have to be, if you want to keep your crew happy when the ship’s submerged for a month or more at a time. The trick-cyclists said we couldn’t have just one colour, must have contrast everywhere or the men’s eyes get sort of depressed. This hall’s used for movies, closed-circuit television, cribbage tournaments, bingo, God knows what – anything to keep the men off duty from getting bored. And you notice there’s no smell of cooking or engine smells. Electrostatic precipitators all over the ship that filter them off.’ A steward came with menus. ‘Now then, let’s get down to it. I’m having the baked Virginia ham with red-eye gravy, apple-pie with ice cream, and iced coffee. And steward, don’t go too easy on that red-eye.’ He turned to Bond. ‘Getting out of harbour always gives me an appetite. You know, it isn’t the sea the captain hates, it’s the land.’

Bond ordered poached eggs with rye toast and coffee. He was grateful for the captain’s cheerful talk, but he himself had no appetite. There was a gnawing tension inside him which would only be released when the
Disco
was picked up on the radar and there would be a prospect of action. And lurking behind his concern about the whole operation was worry about the girl. Had he been right to trust her with so much of the truth? Had she betrayed him? Had she been caught? Was she alive? He drank down a glass of iced water, and listened to the captain explaining how the ice cubes and the water were distilled from the sea.

Finally Bond became impatient with the cheerful, even tone of the conversation. He said, ‘Forgive me, Captain, but could I interrupt for a moment and clear my mind about what we’re going to do if we’re right about the
Disco
and if we come up with her off the Grand Bahama? I can’t quite figure what the next step ought to be. I’ve got my own ideas, but were you thinking we’d try and go alongside and board her, or just blow her out of the water?’

The captain’s grey eyes were quizzical. He said, ‘I was kind of leaving all that to you fellers. The Navy Department says that I’m under your orders. I’m just the chauffeur. Supposing you tell me what you have in mind and I’ll be glad to go along with anything you suggest so long as it doesn’t endanger my ship –’ he smiled – ‘too much, that is. In the last resort, if the Navy Department means what it says, and from your account of this operation it does, the safety of the ship will also have to go by the board. As I told you aloft in the attack centre, I got acknowledgement of our signal and full approval for our proposed course of action. That’s all the clearance I need. Now then, you tell me.’

The food came. Bond pecked at his eggs and pushed them away. He lit a cigarette. He said, looking at Felix Leiter, ‘Well, I don’t know what you’ve worked out, Felix, but this is how I see the picture we may find around four o’clock in the morning, on the assumption, that is, that the
Disco
has been sailing north in shoal water under cover of the Berry Islands and that she’ll then make for the Grand Bahama shore somewhere off the site of the missile station. Well now, on that assumption, I’ve had a good look at the charts and it seems to me that, if she’s going to lay that bomb as close to the target as she can, she’ll heave to and anchor about a mile off-shore in about ten fathoms and get the bomb another half-mile or so closer to the target, lay it in twelve feet of water or so, switch on the time mechanism and get the hell away. That’s how I’d go about it. She’d be away by first light and there’s plenty of yacht traffic around West End from what I can gather from the pilot. She’d show up on the station radar of course, but she’d be just another yacht. Assuming the bomb’s set for the twelve hours Largo’s got before the time limit expires, he could be back in Nassau or twice as far away if he wanted in the time he’s got. For my money, he’ll go back to Nassau with his treasure-hunting story and wait for the next lot of orders from SPECTRE.’ Bond paused. He avoided Leiter’s eyes. ‘That is, unless he’s managed to get information out of the girl.’

Leiter said staunchly, ‘Hell, I don’t believe that girl would talk. She’s a tough cookie. And supposing she did? He’s only got to drop her overboard with some lead round her neck and say her aqualung failed on the treasure hunt, or some spiel of that sort. He’d go back to Nassau all right. That man’s cover’s as solid as J. P. Morgan and Company.’

The captain interrupted. ‘Leaving all that aside, Commander Bond, and sticking to the operational angles, how do you suggest he’s going to get that bomb out of the ship and right into the target area? I agree that according to the charts he can’t get much closer in the yacht, and if he did he might be in trouble with the waterfront guard at the missile station. I see from my dope on the place that they’ve got some kind of a guard-boat for chasing away fishermen and suchlike when they’re going to do a practice shoot.’

Bond said decisively, ‘I’m sure that’s the real purpose of the underwater compartment in the
Disco
. They’ve got one of those underwater sleds in there, and probably an electric torpedo to haul it. They’ll load the bomb on the sled and take it in with a team of underwater swimmers, lay it and come back to the ship. Otherwise, why have all that underwater gear?’

The captain said slowly, ‘You may be right, Commander. It makes sense. But so what do you want me to do about it?’

Bond looked the captain in the eye. ‘There’s only one moment to nail these people. If we show our hand too soon, the
Disco
can get the hell away – only a few hundred yards maybe, and dump the bombs in a hundred fathoms. The only time to get them, and the bomb, the first bomb anyway, is when that team has left the ship and is on its way to the laying point. We’ve got to get their underwater team with our underwater team. The second bomb, if it’s aboard, doesn’t matter. We can sink the ship with the second bomb inside her.’

The captain looked down at his plate. He arranged the knife and fork tidily together, straightened the dessert spoon and took the remains of his iced coffee and swirled the fragments of ice round so that they tinkled. He put the glass back on the table and looked up, first at Leiter then at Bond. He said thoughtfully, ‘I guess what you say makes sense, Commander. We have plenty of oxygen rebreathers on board. We also have ten of the finest swimmers in the Nuclear Flotilla. But they’ll only have knives to fight with. I’ll have to ask for volunteers.’ He paused. ‘Who’s going to lead them?’

Bond said, ‘I’ll do that. Skin-diving happens to be one of my hobbies. And I know what fish to look out for and which ones not to mind about. I’ll brief your men about those things.’

Felix Leiter interrupted. He said obstinately, ‘And don’t think you’re going to leave me behind eating Virginia ham. I’ll put an extra foot-flipper on this,’ he held up the shining hook, ‘and I’ll race you over half a mile any day, gammy leg and all. You’d be surprised the things one gets around to improvise when someone chews off one of your arms. Compensation it’s called by the medics, in case you hadn’t heard about it.’

The captain smiled. He got to his feet. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll leave you two heroes to fight it out while I have a word to the men over the speaker system. Then we’ll have to get together with the charts and see that the gear’s okay and suchlike. You fellers aren’t going to get any sleep after all. I’ll have a ration of battle pills issued to you. You’re going to need them.’ He raised a hand and went off down the mess hall.

Leiter turned to Bond. ‘You goddam shyster. Thought you were going to leave your old pal behind, didn’t you? God, the treachery of you Limeys! Perfidious Albion is right, all right.’

Bond laughed. ‘How the hell was I to know you’d been in the hands of rehabilitators and therapists and so on? I never knew you took life so seriously. I suppose you’ve even found some way of petting with that damned meathook of yours.’

Leiter said darkly, ‘You’d be surprised. Get a girl round the arm with this and you’d be amazed the effect it has on their good resolutions. Now then, let’s get down to cases. What sort of formation are we going to swim in? Can we get some of those knives made into lances? How are we going to recognize our side from theirs underwater, and in semi-darkness at that? We’ve got to make this operation pretty solid. That Pedersen’s a good guy. We don’t want to get some of his men killed through some damn silly mistake of ours.’

The voice of the captain sounded over the communication system. ‘Now hear this. This is your Captain speaking. It is possible that we may encounter hazards in the course of this operation. I will tell you how this may come about. This ship has been chosen by the Navy Department for an exercise that is tantamount to an operation of war. I will tell you the story, which will remain classified top secret until further orders. This is what has happened …’

Bond, asleep in one of the duty officers’ bunks, was awakened by the alarm bell. The iron voice of the P.A. System said: ‘Diving stations. Diving stations,’ and almost at once his bunk tilted slightly and the distant whine of the engines altered pitch. Bond smiled grimly to himself. He slipped off the bunk and went along and up to the attack centre. Felix Leiter was already there. The captain turned away from the plot. His face was tense. He said, ‘It looks as if you were right, gentlemen. We’ve got her all right. About five miles ahead and two points to starboard. She’s doing around thirty knots. No other ship could be holding that speed, or would be likely to. And she’s showing no lights. Here, care to have a look through the scope? She’s raising quite a wake and kicking up plenty of phosphorescence. No moon yet, but you’ll see the white blur when your eyes get used to the dark.’

Bond bent to the rubber eye sockets. In a minute he had her, a white scut on the horizon of the soft, feathery swell. He stood back. ‘What’s her course?’

‘Same as ours – western end of Grand Bahama. We’ll go deeper now and put on a bit of speed. We’ve got her on the Sonar as well, so we shan’t lose her. We’ll get up parallel and close in a bit later. The met. report gives a light westerly breeze in the early hours. That’d be a help. Don’t want it too calm when we unload the swimming party. The surface’ll boil quite a bit as each man goes out. Here,’ he turned to a powerful-looking man in white ducks, ‘this is Petty Officer Fallon. He’s in command of the swimming party, under your and Mr Leiter’s orders of course. All the top swimmers volunteered. He’s chosen nine of them. I’ve taken them off all duties. Maybe you gentlemen would like to get acquainted with your team. You’ll want to discuss your routines. I guess discipline’ll have to be pretty tight – recognition signals and so forth. Okay? The sergeant at arms is looking after the weapons.’ He smiled. ‘He’s rustled up a dozen flick knives. Had some difficulty persuading the men to give them up, but he’s done it. He’s barbed them and sharpened them down almost to needles then fitted them into the tops of broom handles. Guess he’ll make you sign an indent for the brooms or he’ll have the supply officer on top of him when we get out of this. All right then. Be seeing you. Ask for anything you want.’ He turned back to the plot.

Bond and Leiter followed Petty Officer Fallon along the lower deck to the engine room and then to the engine repair shop. On their way they passed through the reactor room. The reactor, the equivalent of a controlled atomic bomb, was an obscene knee-level bulge rising out of the thickly leaded deck. As they passed it, Leiter whispered to Bond, ‘Liquid sodium Submarine Intermediate Reactor Mark B.’ He grinned sourly and crossed himself.

Bond gave the thing a sideways kick with his shoe. ‘Steam-age stuff. Our Navy’s got the Mark C.’

The repair shop, a long low room equipped with various forms of precision machinery, presented a curious sight. At one end were grouped the nine swimmers clad only in bathing trunks, their fine bodies glowing with sunburn. At the other, two men in grey overalls, drab figures of the machine age, were working in semi-darkness with only pinpoints of bright light cast on the whirring lathes from which the knife blades threw small fountains of blue and orange sparks. Some of the swimmers already had their spears. After the introductions, Bond took one and examined it. It was a deadly weapon, the blade, sharpened to a stiletto and notched near the top into a barb, firmly wired into the top of a long stout stave. Bond thumbed the needle-sharp steel and touched the tip. Even a shark’s skin would not stand up to that. But what would the enemy have? CO
₂
guns for a certainty. Bond looked the smiling bronzed young men over. There were going to be casualties – perhaps many. Everything must be done to effect surprise. But those golden skins and his own and Leiter’s paler skins would show at twenty feet in the moonlight – all right for the guns, but well out of range of the spears. Bond turned to Petty Officer Fallon: ‘I suppose you don’t have rubber suits on board?’

‘Why sure, Commander. Have to, for escape in cold waters.’ He smiled. ‘We’re not always sailing among the palm trees.’

‘We’ll all need them. And could you get white or yellow numbers, big ones, painted on their backs? Then we’ll know more or less who’s who.’

‘Sure, sure.’ He called to his men. ‘Hey, Fonda and Johnson. Go along to the Quartermaster and draw rubber suits for the whole team. Bracken, get a pail of rubber solution paint from Stores. Paint numbers on the backs of the suits. A foot deep. From one to twelve. Get going.’