He began turning the tube, making the start of a slow three-sixty scan of the surface. He did it in forty-five-degree segments, stopping to study each segment before moving to the next. When he had come back to the cargo vessel, he said, "Well, well. Looks as though she does have company. Maybe an escort?"

L'Herminier stepped back from the scope and motioned for Canidy to see.

Canidy looked but could not make out anything. He adjusted the optics.

"The cargo vessel is at eleven o'clock, just to the port of our bow," L'Herminier said.

After a moment, Canidy said, "Got it."

"Now, look to about two o'clock. Same size as the cargo ship but armed to the teeth."

"Oh, shit! Another S-boat."

Canidy stepped back from the periscope. When he looked at L'Herminier, he saw that the commander had his eyes closed and his head down.

What the hell is he doing?

Then L'Herminier brought up his head, and, as he opened his eyes, he crossed himself.

When he saw Canidy's questioning look, he said softly, "I understand what it is we do and why. But still I say a prayer for the souls of the lives I must take."

Canidy nodded. Then he quickly closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Merciful Lord, Bless the souls of these men whose lives we are about to take.

Bless the fish we're about to fire so that our sword is swift and sure.

And...and bless this boat and crew so it's only the enemy's ass and not mine.

Amen.

Canidy opened his eyes. L'Herminier was at the scope, looking in the direction of the S-boat.

Well, that might not be the prayer my father would have chosen.

But it'll have to do.

"On my mark," the sub commander said to the XO. "She's settled in ahead of the cargo vessel and matched her speed. Steer one-zero-six degrees."

"One-zero-six degrees!" the executive officer called to the helm.

After a minute, the captain calmly said, "Distance seven-five-zero meters."

The XO repeated that.

"Fire torpedo two," L'Herminier ordered.

Canidy felt the Casabianca Casabianca shudder as the fish shot forward. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, then L'Herminier crossed himself again-and a muffled roar reverberated through the ship. shudder as the fish shot forward. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, then L'Herminier crossed himself again-and a muffled roar reverberated through the ship.

Then all was quiet.

L'Herminier calmly turned the scope in search of the cargo vessel.

"Ah, she's starting to run," he said.

L'Herminier looked at Canidy.

"I like it when the target runs," he added. "Not as easy as the S-boat just now. You have to lead them."

[THREE].

OSS Algiers Station Algiers, Algeria 1245 10 April 1943 As Major Richard M. Canidy, United States Army Air Forces, looked out at the Casabianca Casabianca among the ships in the harbor and barrage balloons above them, Captain Stanley S. Fine, United States Army Air Forces, came out onto the balcony, a fat manila folder in his hand. among the ships in the harbor and barrage balloons above them, Captain Stanley S. Fine, United States Army Air Forces, came out onto the balcony, a fat manila folder in his hand.

Faintly, Canidy heard a familiar sound, and his eyes caught movement in the sky. He immediately pinpointed the USAAF P-38Fs-a small V formation of five Lockheed Lightnings-and grinned knowingly. The sound of the 1,475-horsepower Allison V-12 engines was like recognizing the voice of an old friend.

All things being equal, he thought, admiring the twin-engine fighters, he thought, admiring the twin-engine fighters, I'd rather be in that lead aircraft, going wherever the hell it's going-even if that's air combat... I'd rather be in that lead aircraft, going wherever the hell it's going-even if that's air combat... especially especially air combat-because air combat-because that that is where I feel the most comfortable. is where I feel the most comfortable.

It had been only months earlier that Canidy-flying with Doug Douglass, protecting a stream of B-17 bombers over Germany-had been blasting Messerschmitt Me 109s out of the sky with his Lightning's battery of eight .50 caliber Brownings.

"Those birds make a pretty sight," Fine said. "I miss flying, too."

Canidy nodded.

Fine was widely admired not just for his creative ability-as Canidy put it, "at silencing the rear-echelon bureaucratic bastards in Washington and their endless paperwork"-but also because, despite his somewhat-frail appearance, he was absolutely fearless. And one helluva pilot.

"Here's the stack of everything we've received from Mercury Station," Fine added. "No more reports on either the Tabun or the yellow-fever program."

"Thanks, Caesar," Canidy said with a smile. "That's good news."

"There's also an update in there from Whitbey House. Says Ann is doing well."

"Any reason she wouldn't be?" Canidy said. "No word where she was, what happened?"

Fine shook his head. "No-to all the above."

Canidy said, "I'm planning to get back to London-"

"And so you shall," Fine said. "Soon as we knock this out."

Canidy was more than halfway through the manila folder of messages-chuckling at one of the lines that Tubes had stuck in: "Adolf and Eva send regards"-when John Craig van der Ploeg appeared on the balcony. He was holding a single typewritten message. He had a look of uncertainty.

"What's this?" Canidy said, looking at the message. "You miss one?"

"It's the latest from Mercury," van der Ploeg said.

Canidy took it from his hand and read it.

"Tubes says Nola wants more money for bribes and to start stockpiling weapons?" Canidy said. "So we send 'em."

"There's a Sandbox team getting ready to go in," Fine offered. "Soon as Le Casa Le Casa can get herself provisioned." can get herself provisioned."

"That's not the problem," van der Ploeg said.

"What is?" Canidy asked.

The radioman nodded at the message that Canidy held.

"That's not his hand."

"What do you mean?" Canidy said.

"The way he sends Morse code on the wireless key," the radioman said, "I can tell that Tubes isn't doing the-"

"I know what it means," Canidy interrupted.

"But it's his radio frequency," John Craig van der Ploeg finished.

Canidy considered that.

"It was was his hand for those"-van der Ploeg went on, nodding at the messages Canidy had been reading-"but at noon it suddenly wasn't his hand. I even made him resend the messages." his hand for those"-van der Ploeg went on, nodding at the messages Canidy had been reading-"but at noon it suddenly wasn't his hand. I even made him resend the messages."

"You're sure?" Canidy said. "Absolutely one hundred and ten percent certain?"

John Craig looked as if he took offense at the question.

"As certain as anyone can tell the difference between who's blowing the blues horn, Miles Davis or Jack Benny. Or maybe the tone of airplane engines?"

"Your ear is that good?" Fine said.

"More like Tubes's hand is that good. He has a natural rhythm. He makes his keying seem effortless. It's almost art-"

"Shit!" Canidy flared.

"And whoever's operating Tubes's W/T has all the finesse of a ham-fisted gorilla."

"Did he send the code for a compromised station?" Canidy said.

John Craig van der Ploeg shook his head. "Negative, sir."

Canidy glared at him. "Don't start with that sir shit again."

"So you think he's been turned?" said John Craig van der Ploeg. "He's a double agent?"

The station is compromised, Canidy thought . .

Jesus Christ, I led that poor sonofabitch there like a lamb to the slaughter.

Tubes, I pray you're all right...as I promised you would be.

"Ask him," Canidy said evenly to John Craig van der Ploeg. "Ask him, quote, is there another barnacle on the hull?, unquote."

Canidy looked at John Craig van der Ploeg, then took the typewritten message he had just handed him and wrote on it: Is there another barnacle on the hull? Is there another barnacle on the hull?

He handed it to him.

"What-?" John Craig van der Ploeg said after he read it.

"Just fucking send the message!" Canidy snapped.

When John Craig van der Ploeg had left the balcony, Canidy looked out in the direction of the Lightnings, their twin tails now tiny points on the horizon.

Stan Fine saw that, too.

"Don't think about it, Dick. You're not not going back in, by air or sub. You did your job." going back in, by air or sub. You did your job."

Canidy stared at him.

"That's really not your call, Stan."

Resignedly, Fine nodded, then went on, "Corvo's team from the Sandbox will be en route any day, maybe even tomorrow. They'll find Tubes."

Canidy didn't say anything.

"As long as the Nazis consider you are valuable to them-an asset-no harm will come to you."

Hope I'm at least right about that.

"Okay, meantime, we keep working him," Canidy said coldly. "Double agents are useful. We can feed him info. Maybe that will buy time to keep him alive."

Canidy looked out over the Mediterranean Sea, in the direction of Sicily, and sighed loudly.

"You can call me FDR," he said. "I'm also going to accept only the unconditional surrender of the goddamn enemy."

[FOUR].

OSS London Station Berkeley Square London, England 1701 14 May 1943 Lieutenant Colonel Edmund T. Stevens reached toward the tray on David Bruce's desk that held two bottles of Famous Grouse scotch, one full and one about empty, and three glasses. He picked up the open bottle, then looked at David Bruce and Major Richard M. Canidy.