The Spymasters (Men at War 7)

Canidy could see John Craig’s face brighten at that.

“Tell him, son,” Fine said.

“I’m in charge of all commo,” John Craig said. “I maintain the facilities and the message center, oversee all the traffic from the agents, the procedures and ciphers, as well as the security, and the training of the agents at the Sandbox in W/T commo.”

“Impressive,” Canidy said, “but after what you just told me, not surprising. Clearly you’re doing a fine job.”

“Thank you,” John Craig said. “But, uh . . .”

“But what? Spit it out.”

“But . . . I want to go operational. I want to help find Tubes.”

Canidy grunted.

“What about you being station signal officer here?”

“I’ve already established all the procedures and protocols. I have two candidates who easily can step in and follow them.”

Canidy glanced at Fine, who just perceptibly shrugged and nodded, then looked back at van der Ploeg.

“That’s all well and good, John Craig, but what the hell about your claustrophobia? You’re suddenly miraculously cured?”

“Not suddenly. I’ve been working on that. I’ve been forcing myself to stay locked up in the commo room—you’ve seen it, no windows, no nothing but walls—which has helped. And also when I’ve been out at Dellys, I’ve been going to your throat-cutting school every spare moment I have. Ask anyone out there. I’m ready.”

“Look, why the hell should I take you and not someone else more experienced?”

“Easy. Because no one else is more experienced than me. I can track Tubes’s radio.”

“How do you mean?”

“Whoever is running his station is accustomed to me at the other end. I can keep him on the radio long enough for us to triangulate on his signal.”

Canidy considered that.

If we find the radio, he thought, there’s a damn good chance Tubes is nearby.

And if he’s not, I’m sure I can get whoever is running the radio to talk.

“Won’t they know we’re close because of your signal strength?”

“I’ll have to dial down my transmit power, but that’s a piece of cake.” He paused, then added, “I really want to go.”

Canidy met his eyes.

“Why this all of a sudden, John Craig? Didn’t you hear what I said the SS is doing? If you’re captured—”

“That’s why I want to go,” John Craig interrupted. “Because I’m the reason Tubes is there . . . out there somewhere. When I didn’t go the first time, he had to go in my place, so now it’s ‘If not now, when? If not me, who?’”

Canidy glanced at Fine, who was looking up from the stack of messages he’d been handed. Fine made a facial expression that Canidy, having known him since the day he showed up at the boarding school in Iowa, read as Whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Then Canidy looked away, out across the harbor, in the direction where Sicily, some six hundred miles away, would be over the horizon.

He felt his throat tighten.

Fine recognized what was happening, and after a long moment changed the subject: “You might want to look at a couple of these, Dick. They are all somewhat related.”

Fine handed him the messages.