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.’