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two decks。 The air （70o with 46％ humidity； explained the officer） was beautifully cool。 At the bottom of the stairs he turned left and knocked on a door that said 〃 mander P。 Pedersen； U。S。N。 〃
The captain looked about forty。 He had a square； rather Scandinavian face with a black crew…cut just going gray。 He had shrewd； humorous eyes but a dangerous mouth and jaw。 He was sitting behind a neatly stacked metal desk smoking a pipe。 There was an empty coffee cup in front of him and a signal pad on which he had just been writing。 He got up and shook hands； waved them to two chairs in front of his desk； and said to the officer of the watch； 〃Coffee； please； Stanton。 And have this sent； would you？〃 He tore the top sheet off the signal pad and handed it across。 〃Most Immediate。〃
He sat down。 〃Well； gentlemen。 Wele aboard。 mander Bond； it's a pleasure to have a member of the Royal Navy visit the ship。 Ever been in subs before？〃
〃I have；〃 said Bond； 〃but only as a supercargo。 I was in Intelligence…R。N。V。R。 Special Branch。 Strictly a chocolate sailor。〃 The captain laughed。 〃That's good！ And you； Mr。 Leiter？〃 〃No； Captain。 But I used to have one of my own。 You operated it with a sort of rubber bulb and tube。 Trouble was they'd never let me have enough depth of water in the bath to see what she could really do。〃
〃Sounds rather like the Navy Department。 They'll never let me try this ship full out。 Except once on trials。 Every time you want to get going； the needle es across a damn red line some interfering so…and…so has painted on the dial。 Well gentlemen〃…the captain looked at Leiter…〃what's the score？ Haven't had such a flood of Top Secret Most Immediates since Korea。 I don't mind telling you； the last one was from the Chief of the Navy； Personal。 Said I was to consider myself under your orders； or； on your death or incapacity； under mander Bond's； until Admiral Carlson arrives at 1900 this evening。 So what？ What's cooking？ All I know is that all signals have been prefixed Operation Thunderball。 What is this operation？〃
Bond had greatly taken to mander Pedersen。 He liked his ease and humor and； in general…the old Navy phrase came back to him…the cut of his jib。 Now he watched the stolid good…humored face as Leiter told his story down to the departure of Largo's amphibian at one…thirty and the instructions Bond had given to Domino Vitali。
In the background to Leiter's voice there was a medley of soft noises…the high； constant whine of a generator overlaid by the muted background of canned music…the Ink Spots singing； 〃I love coffee； I love tea。〃 Occasionally the P。A。 system above the captain's desk crackled and sang with operational double…talk…〃Roberts to Chief of the Boat〃…〃Chief Engineer wants Oppenshaw〃… 〃Team Blue to partment F〃…and from somewhere came the suck and gurgle of a pumplike apparatus that sounded punctually every two minutes。 It was like being inside the simple brain of a robot that worked by hydraulics and electrical impulses with a few promptings from its human masters。
After ten minutes； mander Pedersen sat back。 He reached for his pipe and began filling it absent…mindedly。 He said； 〃Well； that's one hell of a story。〃 He smiled。 〃And strangely enough； even if I hadn't had these signals from the Navy Department； I'd believe it。 Always did think something like this would happen one of these days。 Hell！ I have to carry these missiles around； and I'm in mand of a nuclear ship。 But that doesn't mean that I'm not terrified by the whole business。 Got a wife and two children； and that doesn't help either。 These atomic weapons are just too damned dangerous。 Why； any one of these little sandy cays around here could hold the whole of the United States to ransom…just with one of my missiles trained on Miami。 And here am I； fellow called Peter Pedersen； age thirty…eight； maybe sane or maybe not； toting around sixteen of the things…enough to damn near wipe out England。 However〃…he put his hands down on the desk in front of him…〃that's all by the way。 Now we've got just one small piece of the problem on our hands…small； but as big as the world。 So what are we to do？ As I see it； the idea of you gentlemen is that this man Largo will be ing back any minute now in his plane after picking up the bombs from where he hid them。 If he's got the bombs； and on what you've told me I'll go along with the probability that he has； this girl will give us the tip…off。 Then we close in and arrest his ship or blow it out of the water。 Right？ But supposing he hasn't got the bombs on board； or for one reason or another we don't get the tip…off； what do we do then？〃
Bond said quietly； 〃We follow him； sit close on his tail； until the time limit； that's about twenty…four hours from now； is up。 That's all we can do without causing one hell of a legal stink。 When the time limit's up； we can hand the whole problem back to our governments and they can decide what to do with the Disco and the sunken plane and all the rest。 By that time； some little man in a speedboat we've never heard of may have left one of the bombs off the coast of America and Miami may have gone up in the air。 Or there may be a big bang somewhere else in the world。 There's been plenty of time to take those bombs off the plane and get them thousands of miles from here。 Well； that'll be too bad and we'll have muffed it。 But at this moment we're in the position of a detective watching a man he thinks is going to mit a murder。 Doesn't even know for sure whether he's got a gun on him or not。 There's nothing the detective can do but follow the man and wait until he actually pulls the gun out of his pocket and points it。 Then； and only then； the detective can shoot the man or arrest him。〃 Bond turned to Leiter。 〃Isn't that about it； Felix？〃
〃That's how it figures。 And Captain； mander Bond here and I are damn sure Largo's our man and that he'll be sailing for his target in no time at all。 That's why we agreed to panic and ask you along。 One gets you a hundred he'll be placing that bomb at night and tonight's the last night he's got。 By the way； Captain； have you got steam up； or whatever the atom boys call it？〃
〃I have； and we can be under way in just about five minutes。〃 The captain shook his head。 〃But there's one bit of bad news for you； gentlemen。 I just can't figure how we're going to keep track of the Disco 。〃
〃How's that？ You've got the speed； haven't you？〃 Leiter caught himself pointing his steel hook threateningly at the captain； and hastily brought it down again to his lap。
The captain smiled。 〃Guess so。 Guess we could give her a good race on a straight course； but you gentlemen don't seem to have figured on the navigational hazards in this part of the ocean。〃 He pointed at the British Admiralty chart on the wall。 〃Take a look at that。 Ever seen a chart with so many figures on it？ Looks like a spilled ants' nest。 Those are soundings； gentlemen； and I can tell you that unless the Disco sticks to one of the deep…water channels…Tongue of the Ocean； Northwest Providence Channel； or the Northeast… we've had it； as mander Bond would say。 All the rest of that area〃…he waved a hand…〃may look the same blue color on a map； but after your trip in that Grumman Goose you know darned well it isn't the same blue color。 Darned near the whole of that area is banks and shoal with only around three to ten fathoms over it。 If I was quite crazy and looking for a nice cosy job ashore； I'd take the ship along surfaced in ten fathoms…if I could bribe the navigator and seal off the echo…sounder from crew members。 But even if we got a long spell of ten fathoms on the chart； you got to remember that's an old chart； dates back to the days of sail； and these banks have been shifting for more than fifty years since it was drawn up。 Then there's the tides that set directly onto and off the banks； and the coral niggerheads that won't show up on the echo…sounder until you hear the echo of them smashing up the hull or the screw。〃 The captain turned back to his desk。 〃No； gentlemen。 This Italian vessel was darned well chosen。 With that hydrofoil device of hers； she probably doesn't draw more than a fathom。 If she chooses to keep to the shallows； we