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 re-breathers 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 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 center. 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.”