Edwards had eavesdropped on the exchange on the control room receiver and had already sent Dooley running down to the torpedo room to grab a rope. When he got back with it, they fed the line up to Glass in the bridge cockpit and he tossed one end overboard. As the rope dangled down over the smooth side of Toledo’s sail, he grabbed the 7MC microphone and ordered, “All stop. Rig out the outboard and shift to remote.” They needed to slow for the swimmer who was preparing to drop from the chopper. Even at Toledo’s slowest speed, they would race away from anyone in the water. Besides, Glass couldn’t risk getting the line fouled in the screw. The outboard would allow him to maneuver the boat to keep the line in the lee, partially protected from the wind and seas by the bulk of the submarine.

The Super Puma hovered fifty feet above the water and fifty yards from the sub. While Glass and O’Malley watched, the black shape of a wet-suit-clad swimmer appeared in the open door of the helicopter. He dropped out, into the black, frigid water. With seemingly little effort, the man swam the short but choppy distance over to the sub and grabbed the line. Hand over hand, he hauled himself up the side of the boat as if he were climbing the ladder from the pool at the YMCA.

O’Malley whistled. “Now that’s balls. The water temperature is twenty-eight degrees. We’re over twelve miles from land and it’s dark. You sure as hell wouldn’t catch me doing that!”

“You can be assured that guy’s been through worse,” Glass answered. “He’s with the Brit SAS. It’s their answer to the SEALs. Some swear they’re even tougher, but I’d never say that to a SEAL.”

Within moments, the swimmer was standing beside Glass in the cockpit.

“Afternoon, Yank.” The SAS man handed Glass a sealed plastic bag. “This morning’s Daily Mirror. Thought you’d enjoy page three.” The Mirror was world famous for the semiclad beauties featured each day on the inside page. “Sorry we didn’t deliver before breakfast.”

The SAS swimmer reached down to his belt and unclipped the light line that arced upward and still had him tethered to the helicopter. Handing the line to O’Malley, he said, “Just pull this line to reel in the cable. Should help get everything connected up, Bristol fashion.”

O’Malley reeled in the line, all the while watching the cable pay out, coming down until he could reach out and grab it with the hook. Seconds later, Oshley’s stretcher was attached. The swimmer grabbed the line, attached himself with a D-ring on his harness, and motioned up to the chopper pilot. The pair lifted up into the air and into the waiting chopper.

Minutes later, the helicopter dropped its nose, spun around, and disappeared into the clouds and darkness.