"Get there soon, maybe the sub can set sail earlier," Jamison said. "Who knows?"

"Just so long as we don't run the bloody hell into those Motor Transport bastards in Great Glen again," the brawny man in the Motor Transport Corps uniform said.

What? Charity thought. Charity thought.

"I thought you were those," she said to him. "MTC types, I mean."

The other MTC man laughed, looked at Ustinov, and said, "Don't want to lose the ambulance en route, do we?"

Charity said, "What did you just say?"

"Oh, nothing, miss. Just joshing. Pay no mind to us."

"No, I mean it. Did you just say Great Glen?"

"Yes, miss."

"What about it?"

The two MTC men looked at each other, then at Ustinov.

"It's rather complicated," Ustinov explained. "It took some doing-quite a bit, actually, as London had just been hit with a particularly nasty Luftwaffe attack-but we borrowed the ambulance. It's usually in service with the London Civil Defence. The Motor Transport Corps uses it to ferry the injured from hospital to a hospice and they said they desperately needed it. But they were not aware of our our desperation...." desperation...."

Charity Hoche intercepted Lieutenant Colonel Edmund T. Stevens at the foot of the main stairway near the grand front door of Whitbey House. As she caught her breath, he looked at the clip of Ann Chambers's story.

He started shaking his head.

"I know it's a long shot, Ed," Charity said, "but, so far, it's the only only shot." shot."

"I don't know," he said. "But, then, I have no other suggestion. No one has come up with anything?"

He looked at Charity, studying her.

She was shaking her head. He could see genuine anxiousness in her eyes.

"You've got a good feeling about this, don't you?" he said.

"Yeah, I do."

"Okay. Take one of my staff cars. I'll bring Jamison up to speed."

"Thank you, Ed," she replied, then turned to go.

"And, Charity?" Stevens called.

"Yes?"

"Let me know what you find as soon as you can and if there's anything that I can do. I'll be at London Station."

"Will do."

And she went out the door.

[FOUR].

Palermo, Sicily 0855 5 April 1943 Canidy and Nola entered the upstairs bedroom. There were two small beds pushed together. Canidy noticed the bedside table that held the moldy tea and the book that had been left opened facedown.

Jim Fuller was at the far end of the room, near the window, which was pushed up. A chilly morning breeze blew in.

He had the suitcase opened, and the lid to the false compartment removed. The set of three instruments-the transmitter, the receiver, and the power supply-had been removed from the suitcase. They were now on a low wooden coffee table, connected by two thick black power cords with chromed plugs. A length of thin bare wire-the antenna-ran from the set, past a big bowl with a white, glazed finish, and on out the window to the plant shelf.

Fuller sat down on the floor, situating himself in front of the radio set, his legs crossed. A pair of headphones hung around his neck.

As Canidy approached, he could see inside the big bowl. The mice were in it. Adolf -Or is that one Eva? -Or is that one Eva? Canidy thought-was nibbling on cut-up pieces of raw vegetable. The other was trying, in small bursts of energy, to run on the slick surface and getting nowhere. Canidy thought-was nibbling on cut-up pieces of raw vegetable. The other was trying, in small bursts of energy, to run on the slick surface and getting nowhere.

Fuller saw him looking at the mice.

"I found some small sweet potatoes in a basket on the plant shelf," he said and looked toward the window. "When I strung the antenna out there on it."

Canidy nodded.

"I'm getting a little hungry myself," Canidy said.

Canidy reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash-paper message. He glanced at it one final time. It reminded him of Algiers, when the mission was laid on to find the chemical and biological weapons. Stan Fine and Canidy had had to come up quickly with its additional code names.

When Fine had suggested that they might use Roman mythology-"There's so much of that there," Fine had wondered aloud, "who's going to be able to separate it from the real thing?"-Canidy had embraced the idea.

And so now he had just written the message using the code names for the clandestine wireless radio station ("Mercury"), for the team ("Jupiter," "Optimus," "Maximus"), and for the submarine ("Neptune"). The code name for the nerve gas-"Antacid"-came from the earlier Sicily mission, when Canidy had pulled out Professor Rossi.

He held out the message to Fuller.

"Here's this," he said.

Fuller took the sheet and read it:

TOP SECRET.

OPERATIONAL PRIORITY.

05APR43 1200.

FOR OSS WASHINGTON EYES ONLY GEN DONOVAN; OSS ALGIERS EYES ONLY CAPT FINE.

FROM MERCURY STATION.

BEGIN QUOTE.

JUPITER OPTIMUS MAXIMUS FIND NO SIGN OF ANTACID OR OTHER. SEARCH CONTINUES.

NEPTUNE STANDS BY.

END QUOTE.

TOP SECRET.

"Mercury?" Fuller said.

"That's your station name," Canidy said.

"Mercury?" Fuller repeated. "The planet? Oh, wait..."

He glanced down the message again.

"Jupiter Optimus Maximus!" Fuller suddenly said. "Hey, I remember. That's from mythology. Jupiter was the supreme god of Italy."

Nola had a blank look on his face.

"I have never heard of him," he said.

"Of Italy and and Rome," Canidy said. "He was the great protector of the state and every part of life therein. Which, if you think about it, is what we are trying to accomplish." Rome," Canidy said. "He was the great protector of the state and every part of life therein. Which, if you think about it, is what we are trying to accomplish."

"Wasn't he honored with the spoils of the generals and the sacrifices by the magistrates?" Fuller said.

"That's the one," Canidy said. "But one of my real favorites is that all places struck by lightning then belonged to Jupiter."

Tubes laughed aloud.

Nola could not quite understand why.

"Okay," Tubes said, "so I get it-you're Jupiter."

"Your supreme god finds it pleasing that you see such wisdom," Canidy said evenly.

"Then," Fuller went on, "who's Maximus?"

"Jupiter looked to the stars for guidance," Canidy said, waving with his arm toward the exposed beams of the roof, "and there Jupiter found that that name would go to the great radioman heretofore known as Tubes."

"Me Maximus? The greatest?" Fuller said with a huge grin. "I am duly honored."

Canidy nodded.

Tubes looked at Nola and said, "Then that makes you Optimus."

"Optimus?" Nola said tentatively. "Thank you."

"It means 'the best,'" Tubes explained.

Nola's eyebrows went up and he suddenly looked visibly moved.

"I am not worthy of such honor," he said softly.

No shit, Canidy thought. Canidy thought.

"Well, you're probably right," Canidy heard himself saying. "But until I come up with something else-and it's really too late for that-we'll just have to leave you as Optimus."

Tubes grinned, then looked back at the message.

"And since Neptune is god of sea," he said, "then that's the sub?"

"Good. And Mercury?" Canidy said. "Your station name?"

"Now I remember," he said. "Mercury was the messenger god."

"Is the messenger god," Canidy corrected, patting him on the shoulder. "Well done, Tubes. You surprise me." the messenger god," Canidy corrected, patting him on the shoulder. "Well done, Tubes. You surprise me."

Canidy looked toward the radio set.

"Okay, let's get this sent. Then you need to come downstairs. There's been-how do I put this?-an interesting development."

Fuller looked at him, then turned to the radio set.

After encrypting the message, he moved to the transmitter. He adjusted the box a little, enough to get his right hand to it comfortably.

The transmitter and the receiver were nearly twin black boxes, each about ten inches long and four inches wide and tall. They had black Bakelite faceplates that held an assortment of knobs, dials, toggle switches, and more. (Each weighed half the ten pounds of the similar-sized box that was the power supply.) At the bottom right-hand corner of the transmitter faceplate was a button-shaped key. It looked somewhat like a black plastic drawer pull on a short shaft.

Tubes exercised his fingers and wrist, warming them up. Then he looked at the message he had encrypted, lightly put his right index and middle fingers on the key, and rhythmically began tapping out the Morse code.

Canidy and Nola and Andrea Buda were in the kitchen when Jim Fuller came thumping down the stairs and into the room.

He was holding out the flash-paper message to Canidy when he caught sight of Andrea.

He made no attempt to conceal his surprise.