Enigma

noticed Jericho staring at it.
    'When you fellers get me really down I look at it and think—well, hell, if they can do it, so can I.' He grinned. 'Got something to show you.' He opened his attache case and pulled out a wad of papers marked MOST SECRET: ULTRA. 'Skynner finally got the order to give them me this morning. I'm supposed to get them off to Washington tonight.'
    Jericho flicked through them. A mass of calculations that were half familiar, and some complex technical drawings of what looked like electronic circuitry.
    Kramer said: 'The plans for the prototype four-wheel bombes.'
    Jericho looked up in surprise. 'They're using valves?'
    'Sure are. Gas-filled triode valves. GTIC thyatrons.'
    'Good God.'
    'They're calling it Cobra. The first three wheel-settings will be solved in the usual way on the existing bombes—that is, electro-mechanically. But the fourth—the fourth—will be solved purely electronically, using a relay rack and valves, linked to the bombe by this fat cable form, that looks like a -' Kramer cupped his hands into a circle '—well, that looks like a cobra, I guess. Using valves in sequence—that's a revolution. Never been done before. Your people say it should make the calculations a hundred times, maybe a thousand times, as fast.'
    Jericho said, almost to himself: 'A Turing machine.'
    'A what?'
    'An electronic computer.'
    'Well, whatever you want to call it. It works in theory, that's the good news. And from what they're saying, this may be just the start. It seems they're planning some kind of super-bombe, all electronic, called Colossus.'
    Jericho had a sudden vision of Alan Turing, one winter afternoon, sitting cross-legged in his Cambridge study while the lamps came on outside, describing his dream of a universal calculating machine. How long ago had that been? Less than five years?
    'And when will this happen?'
    'That's the bad news. Even Cobra won't be operational till June.'
    'But that's appalling.'
    'Same old goddamn story. No components, no workshops, not enough technicians. Guess how many men are working on this thing right now, as we speak.'
    'Not enough, I expect.'
    Kramer held up one hand and spread his fingers close to Jericho's face. 'Five. Five!' He stuffed the papers back into his case and snapped the lock. 'Something's got to be done about this.' He was muttering and shaking his head. 'Got to get something moving.'
    'You're going to London?'
    'Right now. Embassy first. Then on across Grosvenor Square to see the admiral.'
    Jericho winced with disappointment. 'I suppose you're taking your car?'
    'Are you kidding. With this?' He patted the case. 'Skynner's making me go with an escort. Why?'
    'I was just wondering—I know this is an awful cheek, but you said if I had a favour to ask—I was wondering if I might possibly borrow it?'
    'Sure.' Kramer pulled on his overcoat. I'll probably be gone a couple of days. I'll show you where she's parked.' He collected his cap from the back of the door and they went out into the corridor.
    By the entrance to the hut they ran into Wigram. Jericho was surprised at how unkempt he looked. He had obviously been up all night. A dusting of reddish-blond stubble glinted in the sunlight.
    'Ah, the gallant lieutenant and the great cryptanalyst. I heard you two were friends.' He bowed with mock formality and said to Jericho: Til need to talk to you again later, old chap.'
    'Now there's a guy who gives me the creeps,' said Kramer, as they walked up the path towards the mansion. 'Had him in my room for about twenty minutes this morning, asking me questions about some girl I know.'
    Jericho almost trod on his own feet.
    'You know Claire Romilly?'
    'There she is,' said Kramer, and for an instant Jericho thought he meant Claire but actually he was pointing to his car. 'She's still warm. The tank's full and there's a can in the back.' He fished in his pocket for the key and threw it to Jericho. 'Sure I know Claire. Doesn't everybody? Hell of a girl.' He patted Jericho on the arm. 'Have a nice trip.'

3

    It was another half-hour before Jericho was able to get away.
    He climbed the concrete steps to the Operations Room where he found Cave sitting alone at the end of the long table, telephones on either side of him, staring up at the Atlantic Plot. Eleven Shark signals had been intercepted since midnight, he said, none of them from the anticipated battle zone, which was bad news. Convoy HX-229 was within 150 miles of the suspected U-boat lines,