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The small tugs nudged the Free French Forces submarine Ca
sabianca away from the docks and toward sea.
Tubes reached the foot of the ladder that led up the conn tower. He could not climb it with both the duffel strapped over his shoulder and the box in his hands, so he slipped the duffel to the deck. Then he went up the ladder with the box.
At the top, he saluted Canidy and said, “Sir.”
Canidy looked at him and said, “Make that your last salute and use of ‘sir.’ Got it?”
Tubes looked confused.
“Where we’re going, either of those could get both of us killed.”
Tubes suddenly understood the gravity of that.
“They told me that this was a dangerous mission,” he said.
“You can’t begin to appreciate the understatement that that is,” Canidy said.
Tubes nodded. He held out the box to him.
“What the hell is this?” Canidy said.
Tubes shrugged.
“Professor Rossi said you might need this,” he said.
Canidy pulled back the lid of the box just enough to see inside.
“Christ,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Canaries.”
L’Herminier leaned over to look, too.
“Souris!” L’Herminier said. “Not birds. Mice!”
“Yep,” Canidy muttered. “But soon to be the same as canaries in a coal mine….”
[THREE]
OSS Whitbey House Station Kent, England 1155 3 April 1943
“I say we move on to assigning the name,” Niven announced. “And I say I’ll just do it myself…. I say we call him”—he stared at the ceiling a long moment—“Martin. Major Martin.”
“Why Major Martin?” Fleming said, making it a friendly challenge.
“Why not? Has a nice ring to it,” Niven replied.
“That may well be true, but we can’t bloody well just throw out a name and have it stick,” Fleming said, trying to be sensible.
“Also happens to be the name of an unscrupulous chap in Hollywood I wouldn’t mind finding bobbing breathless in the sea,” Niven added.
There was silence around the table, then Montagu spoke up.
“Actually, Major Martin could work,” he said.
Niven gave Fleming a smug smile. Fleming gave Niven the finger.
There were chuckles around the table.
