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to see for himself how indecipherables were broken. He'd looked in a few nights after tor first meeting and ever since then we'd indulged in a series of late-night chat-shows during which we exchanged grievances, and shared the Havana cigars which I'd stolen from my father.
    There were only two subjects which we never referred to. I didn't tell him that I was keeping a 'watching brief' on de Gaulle's secret code, and Tommy for his part never tried to involve me in a discussion about the rival French section run by Buckmaster, which recruited from those who owed no allegiance to de Gaulle. He disapproved of the principle of there being two French sections to win one war and left it at that.
    One smoky midnight, when I hadn't seen him for about a week and was almost missing him, I was struggling with an indecipherable from a Norwegian wireless operator named Gunwald Tomstad, Wilson had told me that the Admiralty was anxiously waiting to read Tomstad's message, and wanted to pass its contents to 'a former naval person'. And then, as if reference to Churchill was not sufficient incentive, Wilson proceeded to warn me that if we hadn't broken the message before Tomstad's next schedule—which was only a few hours away—he would order him to re-encode and repeat it no matter what the consequences.
    I thought of all the things Tomstad had done right as I tried to rectify what he hadn't.
    He was a farmer who lived near a sea-port and regularly reported the movements of U-boats. He seemed to regard submarines as an extension of his livestock and his reports had already dispatched six to market, with two 'possibles'. But U-boat spotting was only the fringe of farmer Tomstad's war effort.
    In 1941 he had been wireless operator for Odd Starheim (code-name Cheese) and had sent a message from Starheim reporting that four German warships were hiding in a fjord. The Admiralty immediately despatched the Prince of Wales and the Hood, and the subsequent sinking of the Bismarck and the crippling of the Prinz Eugen were directly attributable to Starheim's messages and Tomstad's operating.
    Starheim was now back in London giving Wilson no peace until he was allowed to join Tomstad, and demanding to know the content of his latest message. I tried my thousandth key without success. There was little time left. I didn't hear the door open but knew who was standing there. Tommy recognized the symptoms of 'indecipherabilititis' and asked if he could help. I told him the bastard indecipherable wasn't from France. He shot me a tommy-gun look of utter contempt, then took off his tunic and sat down at the desk.
    He spent the next two hours doing the dull, routine job of checking my work-sheets without really understanding them, but it was help beyond price to Tomstad and me. We pierced the indecipherable's hull at three in the morning ('cruiser in harbour disguised as island with tree in the middle'). Tommy didn't even glance at the clear-text. I'd have liked to tell him that it might soon be on its way to the man he most admired, a 'former naval person'—but I couldn't. I went into Dansey's office, closed the door and read the clear-text on the 'scrambler' to the Norwegian duty officer.
    I returned to my office to finish the job.
    The coders of Grendon had done all they could to break that message, and they deserved the satisfaction of succeeding. I telephoned the night supervisor and told her that I hadn't broken the message and was on my way home. I suggested twenty or so keys, including the correct one, and asked her to pass them to the night squad. I reminded her that if they did have any success, the message must be teleprinted to London marked 'Absolute Priority'. I wished them better luck than I'd had.
    Tommy studied me thoughtfully as I gave him his cigar. 'How old are you?' he asked.
    'Twenty-three.' I was tempted to be more specific and add 'next month'. I enjoyed presents.
    He gave me one: 'Would you like', he asked, 'to tell me what's worrying