Twelve Seconds to Live (2002) by Reeman Douglas

Author:Reeman, Douglas [Reeman, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical/Fiction
Published: 2003-05-01T23:00:00+00:00

11

Face to Face

The Operations Officer unzipped his worn tobacco pouch and proceeded to fill one of his pipes with thrusts of his strong fingers. He was the senior officer of the team and therefore smoked when he chose and not to suit others. And, as everyone kept remarking, it was going to be a long night.

He struck a match and glanced at the big wall chart through the smoke. He did not see the Wren who was standing on a small ladder as she moved a coloured marker wrinkle her nose with disapproval.

He had been across to the mess to get some extra pusser’s tobacco, and had waited just long enough to hear the Captain’s special dinner getting under way. Chavasse had even managed to obtain some Royal Marine musicians for the occasion. You had to hand it to him when it came to flying the flag.

Another marker had been removed: the local flotilla had put to sea. He had heard them earlier after the briefing, the backchat and casual observations from some of the young officers. They would be on their way right now. Over in the mess they would be too pissed to stand before the action even started. If it ever did. He cocked his head as a teleprinter clattered into life. Trafalgar Night. What would Our Nel have made of all of this?

The outer door opened and Masters pushed his way around the heavy blackout curtain.

‘All quiet, Tom?’ His eyes passed over the chart and the plot. Then he smiled as the Operations Officer handed him his pouch.

‘As a grave, David.’ They held the same rank, and had briefly served together in that same old training cruiser as midshipmen. A million years ago.

Masters lit his pipe. Seeing the neatly filed signals, the diagrams and the coloured markers, brought it all back. Just two nights ago Captain Wykes had relayed the build-up of information about German minelaying and the latest details of their midget submarines. No glossing over, but Wykes in his terse, impatient fashion had brought it into the room. Perhaps the intelligence departments of the three services had too much to contend with, or did not allow for any overlap of information, but Wykes had left no doubt as to his thoughts. I went straight to the top. Bloody man, couldn’t see his arse for his elbow.

Masters had looked over at the girl who had been sitting in one of the well-worn sofas. Coker had lit a fire, and she had kicked off her shoes, holding her stockinged feet to the warmth. She had smiled. She was used to Wykes.

The Germans had been moving equipment and supplies across France and out to the Channel Islands. Now some of it was just across the Channel in Seine Bay, where the local flotilla had already carried out fast forays of minelaying. Where some of them would be in a few hours’ time.

Foley, at least, would be with his small company. Doing something, instead of . . . He returned the pouch.

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