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After Canidy explained the connection, he looked over at the wireless.

“How about you? How goes it with the radio?”

“Good. On my third try, I got a hit on Mercury,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out what Canidy recognized as a decrypted message. “But it was a new hand.”

“You hadn’t heard it before?”

John Craig shook his head. “Not this one. It wasn’t so much heavy-handed keying but sloppy. Like they were new to messaging. Really like they’d just learned.”

“What did the message say?”

“Next to nothing besides saying that they need more ‘supplies.’ I sent that we were just making contact, checking in, and that we’d have questions later. The signal was really strong and clear, and I wanted to wait till we got the RDF for when they’re on the air longer.”

“Good, but getting our gear won’t happen until dark,” Canidy said, then motioned at the message. “What else do you have?”

“We got another from Neptune.”

“An update? They said that when they were under way—”

“But they’re not under way,” John Craig interrupted, shaking his head. “The update is that they now expect a thirty-six- or forty-eight-hour delay.”

“Damn it! They were going to be on station tomorrow and the second. Now it’s on the third and fourth?” He sighed. “It’s two hundred and fifty miles from Corsica to here, which will take at least two, three days. So that puts arrival here on the seventh or eighth. That should make our life interesting . . . assuming we survive.”

“What if it’s longer?”

Canidy grunted again. “How’s your backstroke these days?”

John Craig chuckled nervously, then said, “What about Hermes?”

Canidy shook his head. “It’s one thing for Hank to drop us from those black birds at night, but it would be suicidal to land in daylight. We need stealth, and that’s what boats, especially subs, offer.”

John Craig nodded.

“Algiers sent two messages,” he went on. “The first was short, and said that the Sandbox interview of the latest group that Nola’s fishing boat smuggled out knows nothing of the whereabouts of Nola or Tubes.”

“Shit. No surprise, though.”

John Craig finally held out the handwritten decrypted message.

“And, saving the best for last, this one is interesting.”

Canidy took the sheet and his eyes fell to it:

* * *

31MAY 1145

To Jupiter

From Caesar

Wild Bill’s orders. Your priority now is to locate immediately—and be prepared to extricate or terminate, if so ordered—SS Lt Col Oskar Kappler, deputy officer in Messina SS HQ.

Absolutely critical this mission accomplished no later than seven (7) days from this date.

If ordered to terminate subject, important but not imperative to cause death to appear as if an SS or OVA murder.

Wild Bill demands that you confirm receipt and your understanding of this order.