Hutchins’ next report confirmed the situation, just as he’d visualized it. ‘Transmissions Green four-five, no H.E. The other one’s Red five-one, Sir, H.E. fading. Neither of ’em in contact, Sir.’
‘Very good.’ MacGregor glanced at his watch: five-thirty. Somehow, he had to shake those swine off in time to surface at eight, or soon after that. Well - not necessarily. If it took longer than that, if they were kept down for several hours, then they’d have to make the time up by staying on the surface tomorrow morning. But again - and, damn it! - that was wishful thinking.
Now that they knew for certain a submarine was here, it was very unlikely they’d give her any peace even if she got away from this bunch reasonably quickly. There’d be aircraft up, swarms of them, and more surface craft out
