By Douglas Reeman

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The Captain S/M's voice floated from above. `Good luck, David! ' Jermain lifted his hand but did not take his eyes from the widening gap of sloshing water. `Slow ahead ! ' The plating beneath his boots trembled only slightly, and he found that he was holding his breath. ' With a gentle slop of spray around her bows the submarine began to circle away from the protection of the depot ship's side. Once clear, the wind and rain splattered into the small cockpit and rattled against the glass screen.

It was to be hoped that the brief demonstration would compensate the owner. He replied slowly, `Unlikely. It would be bound to get into the Press. ' He broke off as he saw the girl in the tossing dinghy turn to blow him an impudent kiss. In spite of his anxiety Jermain grinned. ' Wolfe turned away, masking his anger. He was worried, too. He had been leaning over the screen as Jermain had gone down to the deck after the rescue. Even with the wind whining over the bridge he had heard one of the young men from the dinghy say to his friends, `Poor old Max !

He had taken Wolfe on a quick conducted tour of the boat, down through the three decks, the crew spaces and storerooms, the galley and the control room. Approximately in the centre of the submarine was a massive bulkhead which separated the living and storage quarters from the vessel's driving power and the secret reactor room. The watertight door in the bulkhead was known jokingly as Checkpoint Charlie, and no unauthorised persons were ever allowed access to the engineer's private world beyond.

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