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Canidy next saw them running in circles inside the conn tower.

He stared at them, watching and waiting for what seemed like half an hour.

Then he said, “Fuck it. Close enough.”

And pulled off his hood and mask.

“I don?

?t smell anything,” Tubes said, standing on the wet deck.

“You wouldn’t,” Canidy said. “Tabun is odorless.”

“No. I mean corpses. If there were dead bodies, there would be the stench of the dead. It’s been—what?—eight, nine days.”

“Depends on the wind direction,” Canidy said. “But good point.”

Two crewmen were pulling the folding kayaks onto the deck. Canidy watched as the wooden-framed, canvas-hulled craft were assembled quickly and put in the water, tethered to the sub by a short line.

Canidy lowered his rubberized black duffel with the Johnson light machine gun, ammo, and other gear in his boat. He put one of the green suitcase radios in beside it. Then, after struggling to crawl in after them, he got to his knees and looked up at the sub.

“So this is your idea of bon voyage, eh?” Canidy said to L’Herminier.

L’Herminier shrugged.

“Jesus!” Canidy exclaimed. “This is akin to a high-wire act! I suddenly long for my little rubber boat…and I use the term boat loosely.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” L’Herminier said, “I understand that General Clark took a swim from one of these kayaks when the Seraph snuck him into North Africa before Operation Torch. At least you got aboard.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Canidy said. “I feel like I’m getting soaked just sitting in this thing.”

“He had the same sort of problem, apparently. Story is, he’d taken off his trousers to keep them dry and keep safe the gold coins he carried in the trouser pockets. Or so he thought. The seas were rather rough—nothing like this here—and it all went in the drink. Clark clung to the boat while his trousers and gold found the sea bottom.”

“Thanks, Jean. That really gives me a sense of encouragement.”

Once Canidy got settled in the kayak, L’Herminier called down, “You forgot something.”

Canidy looked up and saw one of the crewmen holding the box of mice, in which Adolf and Eva had rejoined the others.

“Like hell I did,” Canidy said. “Give ’em to Tubes. There’s room for more than one big rodent on his raft.”

“Hey!” Tubes protested.

Canidy looked at Nola and surprised himself by quoting, “‘But when it comes to slaughter / You will do your work on water.’”

Nola did not say anything at first, then asked, “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Canidy said. “But in a very warped way, Gunga Din, I think it means we now go ashore.”

“That’s Kipling!” Tubes said, putting the box of mice in his kayak beside the suitcase radio.

“Yeah, that’s Kipling,” Canidy said. “Now paddle. And on the QT. We’ll be in touch, Jean.”

“Go with God,” L’Herminier said.

[ONE]

OSS Whitbey House Station Kent, England 1320 3 April 1943