“George to Harry. Go ahead.” The careful precise tones of Lieutenant Commander Rode spoke into his ear. “We have an aircraft approaching on our screen, sir. Range sixty miles, bearing oh nine oh.” “Thank you, Captain. It may be the plane we have to look out for.” “It may be, sir.” The tone suggested that Rode had been bombed so often from the air that he took nothing for granted, and the next words went on to confirm the impression. “I’ve seen Condors as far out as here, sir. But we’ll know soon enough.” “I don’t doubt it.”
