Commander Colter stood and broke the silence in the room, his accent crisp, his tone clipped and perfunctory. “According to the last known position of Vampire and our own hydrographic charts, she lies in 50 to 60 fathoms.” Murmurs around the table as the committee members shook their heads and looked at each other. Colter continued.

“As you surmise, gentlemen, yes, this is deep,” he said. “More than twice as deep as the Laurentic, with which I am sure you’re all familiar.” There were nods around the table as he conjured the name of the famous wreck salvaged off the coast of Ireland for its government gold after the Great War. “And the southeast monsoon is still blowing in Ceylon, which will make things a bit more… sporty.” Havelock thought he made this sound like an afternoon of shooting clay pigeons. “But our diving unit has the latest in underwater technology, and we have brave men who we feel can carry out this operation.”

“Besides the obvious dangers of the diving,” Havelock asked, “how will you be able to carry out a mission in those seas, with the Japanese Navy about?” He liked Colter’s confidence but worried about yet another attack. “What if we manage to bring the bomb up, only to have it captured or destroyed by the Japanese?”

“It’s a risk we’re prepared to take,” Colter said, as if he’d rehearsed the line, or maybe said it a dozen times in his career. “With Hermes sunk and Trincomalee’s capabilities diminished, we’ve had to reroute two cruisers from the Eastern Fleet. The Australians are sending another destroyer. We assume we can load the cargo onto that ship for further transport to your test location.”

Havelock felt better knowing there would be additional naval support. He nodded and sat back in his chair.

“We should have our diving team in place within the week.” Colter said, and sat.

“Excellent, Commander,” Paget Thomson chimed in. “We wish your men the greatest of luck.” He looked around the table. “I suggest we reconvene next week when we’ve news of the operation’s success.” He gave a thin smile to Colter, who didn’t return it but nodded and stood up crisply.

The committee adjourned, and a few of the men lingered, pouring more sherry, as if toasting what they were convinced would be a success. John Havelock wasn’t so sure. He lingered at the window, looking down at the rain-soaked courtyard, where Commander Colter was climbing into an Austin saloon with Royal Navy markings. As he shut the door, the navy man glanced up, as if sensing Havelock’s gaze on him. He nodded to him as the car drove off, joining the evening Mayfair traffic.

“Godspeed,” Havelock whispered, and turned to go. He had a train to catch back to Cambridge.

Invertebrates and a Crow’s Foot

Galle, Sri Lanka. Present day.