The problem was whether Keith could afford to stay on the surface long enough for more messages. He had to have surfaced through the ice to transmit this message coming in. Those were his own beeps and key clicks they were hearing, faint and weak because of the distance but clear and distinct, nevertheless, and they proved that at that moment, at least, he was on the surface. Unless Cushing was in immediate danger, he would stay surfaced long enough to hear the receipt signal from Annapolis, probably would stay longer if not under pressure to submerge again. On the other hand, he might have to go down immediately — if the damaged Cushing was able to dive — and if that happened the only way to get a message to him would be the one already used: the long-wave low-frequency radio transmitter system based at Cutler, Maine, designed for communication with submerged submarines.
Richardson had uncovered his free ear also. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “What do we send him?”
Buck showed him the message he had written. “Here it is. He’ll spot this for the wolfpack code as soon as he hears it.”
“KE RI BU C5” read Richardson aloud. “I remember the code was in two-letter groups. But why do you think he’ll be able to decode it on sight? He won’t have the code with him in the radio room.”
“He won’t need it. That’s the beauty of it. It’s designed to be used between people who know each other well. The first three groups are the first two letters of the names we use for each other. For Keith, just that much will do a lot.”
There was pleasure in Richardson’s voice as he acknowledged the truth of Buck’s statement. Then he asked, “But what’s this c5?”
“Once Keith catches on that we’re trying to communicate something via the old wolfpack code, he’ll know it means crystal system number five. Single side-band is frequency-controlled by crystal. So this whole message tells him we’re here in the Proteus radio room — somebody’s radio room, anyway — that we want to talk to him on single side-band radio, and which sets of crystals to use. He and I spent quite a bit of time working these out for that barrier exercise. He’ll understand exactly what we’re saying to him. We’ll be using one crystal, on its frequency, and he’ll be using a different one and come back at us with a different frequency.”
There was a drop in Richardson’s voice. “Remember, Buck, voice isn’t secure. Don’t get your hopes up too high about what we can tell him. Any ideas about what we can do to help him from down here will have to go in a classified encoded message. Matter of fact, we told him about your towing hookup rig in our answer to his first message. We’re monitoring the scheds right now to pick up the transmission.”
“I know, and I checked on that too, a little while ago.” Buck had moved closer to Richardson, dropped his voice until he was practically whispering. “Our answer hasn’t been sent out yet. That’s one of the troubles with our system. There’s so many messages to send that they haven’t got to it yet. It’s been hours since he sent his first message, and now here’s the second, and still he’s not received an answer to the first one. When it does go on the air, it will take him an hour or so to decode it, besides. It’s just too slow!”
Richardson said nothing, and after a pause Buck went on. “You’re boss, and you’ll do the talking, but we’ve got to tell him something! Just say we’re not sitting here on our ass while he’s got a problem! You don’t have to say anything classified!”
Williams’ entreaty was having its effect, bolstered by Richardson’s own natural desire. “The Russians might be able to find Keith’s transmissions if they’re continuously searching the entire spectrum. If they hear us down here they’ll have no idea who we’re talking to.” He was talking to himself. “But if they’ve got a frequency scanner anywhere near where he is, when he opens up they’ll zero in on him right away.”
“And a lot of good may it do them! Keith has all the right in the world to use his radio!” Buck waved the message pad. “They’re nearly finished transmitting. The group count’s solid. Can I give the chief the go-ahead? I’ve already briefed him. We’ve got to break right in on CW before the Cushing closes down.” With Richardson’s nod of assent, Buck handed him the earphone, seized the chief radioman by the arm, began talking earnestly to him.
“He’s already got his transmitter on the frequency,” Buck reported a moment later with a smile of pleasure, “and he knows exactly what to do. Says every time he’s listened on a circuit he’s thought of how he could get something across to one of the other operators, if only he’d be allowed to try. He’s getting set right now. As soon as NSS sends a receipt he’ll zero beat with them. That will put him exactly on with NSS, and therefore with the Cushing. They’ll hear him, too, and out of curiosity they’ll listen to see what’s coming off. Then they’ll hear the chief send our little message five times and shut down. Keith will both see it on paper and hear it in his earphones, and that ought to do it.”
“You’re sure he won’t answer and alert anyone listening that it was meant for him?”
“He won’t answer,” said Buck with a confident grin. “That’s not in the code. I mean, it’s in the code not to do that, ever. He invented it, remember. He won’t send another thing on CW. ‘c5’ gives him both crystals. We wait a little while, then open up on voice, that’s all. If he heard our CW transmission he’ll simply set up his own radio, and wait. The next thing we hear from him will be his own voice, with no warning to anyone, when he answers us.”
There was a change in the smooth cadence of the incoming message. The last few letters were drawn out, lengthened by the tiniest of fractions. Then the distant transmitter fell silent. Rich, Buck and the chief swung simultaneously to the two operators. Both were counting the coded groups they had been receiving. The chief seated himself at a third operating station, fingered the transmitting key, looked inquiringly at Richardson.
“Go ahead,” said Rich. “Open up as soon as Annapolis sends the R. I’ll take responsibility for breaking the rule.”
“Whoever Keith had on the key was a damn good operator,” said Buck. “I’ll bet NSS doesn’t need many repeats. Maybe not any. Our men seem to have it solid. NSS should too.” He put both hands to his head, pressed the earpiece hard against one ear. Richardson, he saw, was doing the same.
W7ST 130642 DE NSS went down on two radio typewriters. The signal was much louder than the one they had been hearing. There was a slight pause, then a prolonged, positive, dot-dash-dot, the letter R, sent with all the finality that could be mustered in a single monosyllabic note. Instantly they heard a faint tap from the distant station. Cushing’s operator had barely touched his key, acknowledging, in the unwritten code of professional radiomen, that he had been fully serviced. His next move would be to turn off his transmitter. His message had been sent and receipted for, and there would be no further use for it.
Proteus’ chief had, however, swung into action himself. One hand on his tuning dial, the other on his transmitter key, he sent a single long dash, varying his frequency slightly. It took only a second or two, but it was already beginning to seem too long to Buck when the man released his key, apparently satisfied. Then, without preamble, he began to send the eight letters, four groups of two, over and over without pause. Five times Rich and Buck mentally recorded the four two-letter groups. Five times the radiomen at the receiving stations typed the short message. Then, as unceremoniously as it had begun, the transmission was finished. The chief was already looking for the next order. Buck made the sign of cutting his own throat, the chief reached into the recess of his operating station, and with a loud cachunk the transmitter power hum abruptly stopped.