“Countermeasures?” she asked quietly, although there was no need. The Havoc was fully stealthed.

“None deployed yet, ma’am. They haven’t made us.”

She nodded, but couldn’t help chewing her lip. She had just fired off the last of their offensive weapons. There were no more shots in the locker-the cruise missile bays and the torpedo room were empty. If they missed with this strike, and the pickup crew of the Dessaix were any good, she would have to dive deep and hide out down there for a very long time.

Two indicator bars, showing the distance to the target, crawled across the nearest screen. Five millimeters before they reached their goal, the chief defensive sysop cried out.

“They’re on to us! Threat boards red.”

Willet’s heart rate surged, but then her weapons officer spoke up.

“We got a double tap, skipper! Clean hits.” He added, “She’s gone.”

Willet’s crew were disciplined, and nobody cheered, but the commander of the HMAS Havoc spoke for them all. “Outstanding piece of work everyone,” she said quietly. “Congratulations.”

Lieutenant Commander Grey stayed bent over the schematic displays until he was entirely satisfied. Standing upright, he asked, “Shall we search for survivors, ma’am?”

It didn’t take long for her to consider the question. “No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Grey. The seas are still running at twelve meters up there. We can’t take the chance. Bring us around, and let’s get back to the lake. Prepare an encrypted burst for Pearl, San Diego, and Sydney, then send it when we get within range.

“And have Ms. Sparrow brew me a hot chocolate. I’m going back to bed.”

1

D-DAY. 3 MAY 1944.