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cribs
on one of the trestle tables. By 4 A.M. they had a menu for the
bombes. By breakfast one of the bombe bays was reporting a drop and
Puck ran through the canteen like a schoolboy shouting: “It’s out!
It’s out!”
    It was the stuff of legend.
    At midday Logie telephoned the Admiralty and told the Submarine
Tracking Room to stand by. Two hours later, they broke the Shark
traffic for the previous Monday and the Teleprincesses, the
gorgeous girls in the Teleprinter Room, began sending the
translated decrypts down the line to London. They were indeed the
crown jewels. Messages to raise the hairs on the back of your
neck.
FROM: U-BOAT TO CAPTAIN SCHRODER
    FORCED TO SUBMERGE BY DESTROYERS. NO CONTACT.
LAST POSITION OF ENEMY AT 0815 NAVAL GRID SQUARE 1849.
    COURSE 45 DEGREES, SPEED 9 KNOTS.
FROM: GILADORNE
    HAVE ATTACKED. CORRECT POSITION OF CONVOY IS
AK1984. 050 DEGREES. AM RELOADING AND KEEPING CONTACT.
FROM: HAUSE
    AT 0115 IN SQUARE 3969 ATTACKED, FLARES AND
GUNFIRE, DIVED, DEPTH CHARGES. NO DAMAGE. AM IN NAVAL GRID SQUARE
AJ3996. ALL TIN FISH, 70 CBM.
FROM: FLAG OFFICER, U-BOATS
    TO: “DRAUFGANGER” WOLF PACK
    TOMORROW AT 1700 BE IN NEW PATROL LINE FROM
NAVAL GRID SQUARE AK2564 TO 2994. OPERATIONS AGAINST EASTBOUND
CONVOY WHICH AT 1200⁄7⁄12 WAS IN NAVAL GRID SQUARE AK4189. COURSE
050 TO 070 DEGREES. SPEED APPROX 8 KNOTS.
    By midnight they had broken, translated and teleprintered to
London ninety-two Shark signals giving the Admiralty the
approximate whereabouts and tactics of half the Germans’ U-boat
fleet.
    Jericho was in the Bombe Hut when Logie found him. He had been
chasing about for the best part of nine hours and now he was
supervising a changeover on one of the machines, still wearing his
pyjamas under his overcoat, to the great amusement of the Wrens who
tended the bombe. Logie clasped Jericho’s hand in both of his and
shook it vigorously.
    “The Prime Minister!” he shouted in Jericho’s ear, above the
clattering of the bombes.
    “What?”
    “The Prime Minister has just been on the telephone with his
congratulations!”
    Logie’s voice seemed a long way away. Jericho bent forward to
hear better what Churchill had said and then the concrete floor
melted beneath his feet and he was pitching forward into
darkness.
    “Is,”said Jericho.
    “What, old thing?”
    “Just now, you said Shark was a monster and then you said it was
a monster.” He pointed the fork at Logie. “I know why you’ve come.
You’ve lost it, haven’t you?”
    Logie grunted and stared into the fire and Jericho felt as
though someone had laid a stone on his heart. He sat back in his
chair, shaking his head, then gave a snort of laughter.
    “Thank you, Tom,” said Logie, quietly. “I’m glad you find it
funny.”
    “And all the time I thought you’d come here to give me the push.
That’s funny. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it, old thing?”
    ♦
    “What day is it today?” asked Logie. “Friday.”
    “Right, right.” Logie extinguished his pipe with his thumb and
stuffed it into his pocket. He sighed. “Let me see. That means it
must have happened on Monday. No, Tuesday. Sorry. We haven’t had a
lot of sleep lately.”
    He passed a hand through his thinning hair and Jericho noticed
for the first time that he’d turned quite grey. So it’s not just
me, he thought, it’s all of us, we’re all falling to pieces. No
fresh air. No sleep. Not enough fresh food. Six-day weeks and
twelve-hour days…
    “We were still just about ahead of the game when you left,” said
Logie. “You know the drill. Of course you do. You wrote the bloody
book. We’d wait for Hut 10 to break the main naval weather cipher,
then, by lunch time, with a bit of luck we’d have enough cribs to
tackle the day’s short weather codes. That would give us three of
the four rotor settings and then we’d get stuck into Shark. The
time-lag varied. Sometimes we’d break it in one day, sometimes
three or four. Anyway, the stuff was gold-dust