They had gone over the blueprints of the ship and had selected the engine room as best suited to their needs. The bow end of the space was cut off by a screened wall into a room for the electrician, with his supplies and workbench. The power board and generator were here and, equally important, it was against the outer skin of the ship’s hull. The boxes were brought here and, under the watchful eyes of the two physicists, were gently lowered to the deck. When all of the men had gone the captain stepped forward.

“I have been instructed that your work is to be done in absolute privacy. However, since one boiler must be fired, an engineer will have to be stationed out here…”

“That’s perfectly all right,” Arnie broke in.

“…and when the watch is changed I will change the men myself. I will be in my cabin if you wish to contact me.”

“Fine, thank you for the aid, Captain.” They watched his retreating back. “I am afraid he doesn’t like all this,” Arnie said.

“I’m afraid we can’t afford to worry about it. Let’s get these things uncrated.”

Setting up the equipment took most of the day. There were four basic units, electronic equipment of some kind, unidentifiable in their dial-studded black metal cabinets. Heavy cables with multiple-pronged connectors snaked between them, and an even thicker cable ran to the power outlet. While Arnie worried over the connections and adjustment of the equipment, Ove Rasmussen pulled on a pair of cotton workmen’s gloves and studied the paint-encrusted, rivet-littered hull of the ship.

“Right here,” he said, tapping on a bulging rib with his hammer. He then went to work with steady precision, with hammer and chisel, removing the thick layers of paint that covered the steel. When he had a foot-long area cleaned right down to the bare, shiny metal, he scrubbed it industriously with a wire brush.

“Done,” he announced with satisfaction, pulling off the gloves and lighting a cigarette. “Clean as a whistle. Positive contact here and through the entire hull.”

“I hope so. This connection is most vital.” A flexible, rectangular-cross-sectioned wave guide protruded from what appeared to be the final unit in the interconnection, and terminated in a complicated bit of brass machining equipped with screw clamps. After a certain amount of filing of metal, and mumbled curses about the intractability of inert matter, they succeeded in fastening it to the prepared section of metal. Arnie made a number of careful settings and switched on the equipment.

“Trickle power,” he said. “Just enough to see if we are completing our circuitry.”

There was a sudden sharp rapping on the door. Ove went and opened it a crack. Captain Hougaard was outside, looking as annoyed as ever. “Yes?”

“There is a soldier here who wishes to speak to you.” He did not appear to enjoy his role as messenger boy.

Ove opened the door just wide enough to slip out through, then carefully closed it behind him. A uniformed sergeant, all web belts, brass clips, high boots, was holding the leather case of a field telephone. The cable from it vanished out of sight up the gangway.

“I was told to bring this to you, sir. The other unit is on the quay outside.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Just put it down here and I’ll take care of it.”

The door to the electrician’s compartment opened and Arnie looked out.

“Could I talk to you, Captain?” he asked.

The captain pointed at the sergeant. “Wait for me on the deck above.” He was silent until the man had clumped up the stairway out of earshot. “What is it?”

“We need some skilled help. Perhaps you have someone aboard who can weld—and do a good job? It will take a long time to send ashore for help. This is a matter of national interest,” he added when the captain was silent, and appeared reluctant to answer.

“Yes, I’m very much aware of that. The Minister of Trade will have my complete report on this matter. There is Jens; he was a welder in the shipyard. I’ll send him down.” He went away, the very stomp of his feet radiating annoyance.

Jens turned out to be the moustached giant who had helped bring down the boxes. He appeared, swinging the heavy tanks of a gas welder like toys, smiling innocently.

“Now we get a look at the box of tricks, hey? No secrets from Jens; he sees all and tells nothing. Big mysterious secret affairs, Army, Navy, Marine—even Nils Bohr Institute like Herr Professor Rasmussen here.” Both men looked shocked as the big man winked and dropped the pipes and tanks to the deck.

“Perhaps we had better contact—” Arnie said, but was interrupted by Jen’s Olympian laugh.

“Don’t worry! See all, tell nothing. Jens has been in the Army, in Greenland—in the shipyard, South America. On television I saw the Professor here get the Nobel prize. Gentlemen, don’t worry, I am as good a Dane as they come, even if I was born in Jutland, which some lousy Zealanders hold against me, and I even have the Dan-nebrog tattooed on my chest. Would you like to see it?”

He assumed they would, even before they had a chance to answer, and opened his jacket and shirt to show the white-crossed red flag of Denmark tucked away behind the golden waves of hair.

“That is very good,” Arnie said—and shrugged. “I suppose we do not have much choice in the matter. I assume you will not talk about what you see here…”

“If the torturers pulled out every fingernail and toenail on my body I would laugh and spit in their faces without saying a word.”

“Yes, I am quite sure that you would. If you will come in here.” They stood aside while the big man dragged his equipment in. “It is the hull connection,” Arnie told Ove. “Just not good enough. The signal is not getting through. We will have to weld the wave guide to it.”

Jens nodded while they explained what must be done, and his welder popped, then hissed to life. He knew his work all right; the captain had not been wrong about that. After removing the wave guide; he brushed the area clean again and scrubbed it with solvent. Only then did he clamp the brass fitting back on and run a true and steady bead down its length, humming cheerfully to himself while he worked.

“Strange looking radios you have here,” he said, flashing a brief look at the equipment. “But of course it’s not a radio—I know that much, did a bit of radio operating myself in Indonesia. Physics, very complicated stuff.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, Jens?” Ove asked.

“Sometimes, but not twice.” He closed a scarred fist that looked as big as a soccer ball. Then he laughed. “I talk a lot, but I don’t say much. Only to friends.” He picked up the equipment and started out. “It has been good speaking with you gentlemen. Don’t forget to call on old Jens when you need help.” Then he was gone.

“An interesting personality,” Arnie said. “Do you think he will tell anyone about this?”

“I hope not. And I doubt it. But I think I’ll mention him to Skou, just in case.”

“You’ve caught his security bug.”

“Perhaps. But if everything goes according to plan tonight, we are going to have something that we very much want to keep under wraps.”

“The signal is fine now,” Arnie said, and flipped off the power and leaned back and stretched. “That is all we can do for the moment. What comes next?”

Ove looked at his watch. “Six o’clock and I’m getting hungry. It was arranged for us to eat aboard.”

“The captain will really enjoy having us. Boiled fish, boiled potatoes, and alcohol-free beer, I suppose. We should take turns. Why don’t you eat first? I am not very hungry.”

“After your undoubtedly accurate description neither am I. But I’ll volunteer since it was my idea. It will be eleven o’clock before anyone shows up so we have more than enough time.”

Arnie puttered with the equipment and worked out an estimate on field strength at maximum output, so the time passed quickly. He unlocked the door when Ove called to him.