'Bastardo!'

A girl, I was thinking. How she had got here I couldn't imagine - unless maybe she was some crab's bit of fluff smuggled aboard at Portsmouth. I hadn't seen a girl in six weeks. We'd heard rumours that a few were serving on the Canberra, but we'd never got near enough to find out. Or could she be a journalist stowed away on board to get a scoop on the campaign . . .?

Then it dawned on me that she'd spoken in Spanish. I ran my gaze around the nest in which she had been lying up, taking in the items I'd found - the camera, the tape recorder, the radio-type device.