by John Gardner
‘Now, this I didn’t know until it was explained to me. It appears that when you delete files – data – from one of those hard disks or a tape, it is still there. At least until someone writes over the top of it. You know that, James?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes.’
‘Ah, well you would, wouldn’t you? Anyway, this clever fellow brought the files back to life. Everyone went a little mad when they saw what he had got . . .’
‘COLD’s Order of Battle?’
‘Just about, yes. Names, addresses, target cities, the whole works. They also unearthed a letter or two written on the same tape. He was offering the goods to COLD. Blackmail, as it happened.’
‘Blackmailers usually keep copies . . .’
‘Hold on, James. Carter was a bachelor – if you follow me. We tossed his flat. He had the information hidden away all right. Quite clever. Had a big, fat, old family Bible, only he had managed to split the thick pages and sandwich his thin database pages between them. The whole thing was a very clever fake, and what it turned up was poison. We had no idea COLD was so well organised.’
He drew attention to the dangerous part Bond had played in the operation which followed Sukie’s assassination at Dulles up with?’
The Hôtel du Rhône in Geneva is beautifully situated close to the lake. It is said that the owner has combined the luxury of a grand hotel with modern functionaliror at the mom
17
IN ROOM 504
He kept his back to the door, holding Beatrice directly in front of him while his mind worked overtime on the logic. Pop Hughes had said it was a possibility that these two FBI men had been the targets on BD 299, together with the prisoner being extradited from the UK. This meant that he was speaking only with the knowledge of going through Flight BD 299’s passenger manifest before the bodies had been completely matched. Somewhere along the line Bond had heard that there were a couple of mystery bodies – or what was left of them – still unclaimed after all this time.
How had M put it? It never happened. Now, some four years later, it would be M who had the final body count next to the up-to-date manifest when things had been sorted out in the aftermath of the disaster.
He gazed into Beatrice’s face and saw the truth combined with his logic. They had not been on the aircraft, but they were supposed to have been. This was a very frightened lady. He lifted his eyes, looking over her shoulder, and caught the smirk on Allen’s face, watching it turn to a smile of victory.
Bond smiled back, giving Beatrice the same smile as he dropped his head and whispered, ‘I think you’ve got to fly.’ As he muttered, he gave her a hard push, sending her in a flurry of arms and legs to his left as he took off, head low and his@ghtadf course right hand going for the ASP 9mm.
Allen leaped to his feet, his own right hand sliding out of sight moving towards his back, but Bond had him cold in a flying tackle which ended in a very hard head-butt to the loins. The so-called FBI man gave a little squeak of pain and clattered backwards over the sofa. Bond drew his automatic pistol, then heard the almost whispered, ‘I’d drop that if you want the beautiful lady to live.’
Farmer had Beatrice in a choke-hold with his forearm across her neck and a pistol resting against her temple, but Bond banked on nobody wanting to start a shoot-out here on the hotel’s fifth floor.
Allen had his handgun out but was still doubled up in pain.
‘A Mexican stand-off, I believe they call this,’ Bond said brightly, and at that moment, there came a hesitant knocking at the door.
‘Who is it?’ Farmer called out, his voice rough and constricted.
‘Room Service.’
‘We didn’t order anything,’ from Farmer, coupled with a groan from Allen.
‘I think one of the gentlemen needs a little ice,’ Bond called out, dropping his voice to add, ‘I just might have damaged his marital prospects.’
‘I have a gift, especially from the management.’ The voice muffled from behind the door.
Farmer let Beatrice go, pushing her in Bond’s direction. ‘Don’t anyone try anything stupid.’ He lowered the pistol, keeping it out of sight.
‘You have a wonderful way with words, Farmer. Great grammar as well.’ Bond caught Beatrice and held her to one side while Allen tried to straighten up, leaning heavily on the back of the sofa.
‘Just a moment,’ Farmer’s gravel voice rose as he walked to the door, twisted the lock and opened it a fraction.
Almost at the moment he turned the handle, the door burst inwards and the room suddenly seemed to be full of people. Bond recognized Eddie Rhabb and MacRoberts, his red hair flying. He had also seen the others somewhere. Yes, a few years ago at Quantico sitting in Toni Nicolletti’s room. Their names came back unaided – Drake, Long and the female officer known only as Prime. Each one of them was armed and it became quickly apparent that, whatever their other faults, Allen and Farmer had the good sense not to attempt a pitched battle.
‘The Swiss police are downstairs,’ Eddie said loudly. ‘They want words with you two specimens. I suspect sooner rather than later, though we’re also going to be allowed some time with you.’ He stood, feet apart, shoulders hunched and his head down in the charging bull position. His face was scarlet with a mixture of the rage he had obviously built up and the relief he now felt.
He turned to Bond. ‘I’m sorry we had to use a little duplicity to get you here, James, but we need you and we’re aware of the situation in your Service. An application through channels – as they say – would have resulted in a blunt “No” from that committee which seems to run you all these days.’
Bond shrugged, really not comprehending what was going on, but spotting half a dozen Swiss policemen just outside the door.
Rhabb turned to the newcomers and motioned them in, telling Allen and Farmer that they would be taken out of the hotel through the rear entrance. ‘There’ll be no unfortunate publicity, gentlemen. Your names aren’t going to get on any official documents and I assure you there’ll be no problem about extradition because nobody’s going to hear about extradition. You@sriIQ have no rights, so I’m not going to read them to you. I’ve never heard of you, in fact, and none of these other officers have ever seen you. In fact, none of us are here.’
The Swiss policemen had patted down the two prisoners, snapped handcuffs onto them, and were leading them out towards the service elevator.
‘I’d get a doctor to the one who’s having problems walking,’ Bond said as they left. ‘I would never want to be called a spoilsport.’
Prime, the female agent, grinned, ‘I would,’ she gloated. ‘I’d botch a circumcision on both of them.’
MacRoberts as wild-haired as ever, was dealing with any damage they had caused to the door. ‘Good for you, Prime.’ He looked towards Bond. ‘I don’t think our Prime likes men very much.’
‘Try me sometime,’ Prime flirted back.
‘If it’s not too much of a problem, could somebody tell me what’s going on?’ Bond stood with an arm around Beatrice’s shoulders, his remark addressed to nobody in particular.
Eddie Rhabb turned to Long and told him to call room service to get them some coffee. ‘Oh, yeah and some of that gateau cake they have. That would be good.’
‘Yes,’ Bond smiled, ‘gateau cake would be delicious, but I should order one or the other.’
‘Gateau means cake, sir.’ Prime raised her eyebrows.
‘Whatever.’
Long crouched over the telephone muttering. ‘. . . and toot suite as well,’ he finished.
They arranged themselves around the room, with Eddie Rhabb standing in front of the fireplace, lifting himself up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for them to settle and the coffee and cake to arrive.
‘You look as delicious as ever,’ Bond told Beatrice quietly.
‘So do you, James. You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to see you since our little adventure.’
‘What kept you away?’
&nbs
p; ‘M and his Chief of Staff mainly. Moneypenny on one occasion. Then I heard you had got yourself heavily involved with a Swiss lady. True?’
He nodded. ‘True, but we don’t know what’s going to happen. She’s been in a coma for some time. The doctors aren’t very hopeful.’
‘Oh, James, I’m sorry.’
‘I seem to bring bad luck to women.’ He looked grim and the sparkle had gone from his eyes.
‘You could only bring good luck to me,’ she whispered.
Again he thought about his feelings after the operation they had shared. The woman who could become the woman of my life. He looked at her, memories flooding back, and wondered why he had not fought to keep her then.
The coffee and cakes eventually arrived, looking and smelling wonderful, though the waiters seemed a little taken back by the sheer muscle gathered in the room. Once they were all quiet, Rhabb said he would have to start at the beginning if Bond was to be brought up to date.
It appeared that, about seven months earlier, they had successfully managed to insert Beatrice into the Tempesta menage – ‘Though those two fake FBI heavies will tell you that she’s far from trusted,’ he added.
‘They are fakes then?’
‘More than you’ll ever know. They even sprung a particularly nasty killer in London, then managed to disappe@sherbbar by setting up three other people on the Bradbury Airlines flight to Dulles. We knew they weren’t kosher but, for a very short time, we were under the impression they were dead.’
‘Yes, Pop Hughes, the IIC of the NTSB team told me about them, and how they could have been the target of the bombing.’
‘Sure,’ Rhabb threw back his head. ‘Sure, nice people the old folks in COLD and the Tempesta family. You know the real reason all those people were killed, James?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. M told me last night.’
Rhabb expelled a lungful of air. ‘Allen and Farmer have been on the Tempesta payroll for a long time. They’re also card-carrying members of COLD. As soon as the Tempestas accepted Beatrice as one of the household, that precious pair were assigned to keep an eye on her. Wherever she went, they were never far behind, but we did manage to get around that. You see, James, something big is about to go down with COLD and the Tempestas. We thought you might like to be in on it. Also, you’re probably the best person in the world to act as a sort of decoy.’
‘So you set about luring me, using the charming Ms da Ricci.’
‘Something like that. As I said, it would have taken an age to get you officially, so as soon as we heard from Beatrice that things had started to pop, we performed a little duplicity of our own: to draw you, and also to left-foot Messrs Allen and Farmer.’
‘How did you go about that, Eddie? I’m always interested in duplicity.’
Rhabb took a mouthful of cream cake and chewed enthusiastically while Prime made some comment about tough members of the Bureau gorging themselves on expenses. ‘What we did,’ he paused to wash down the cake with an enormous drink of coffee. ‘What we did was have Beatrice send a daily report. We have this cute little gizmo, see. This electronic sending device. Fits in her bra, doesn’t it, B?’
‘The name’s Beatrice,’ she accented the Italian pronunciation. ‘Yes, Eddie, it fits in my bra, but I usually just get good hiding places for it. Your friends and mine, the Tempestas, have WHS.’
‘Whatsat?’
‘Wandering Hand Syndrome. So I keep it hidden elsewhere.’
‘Okay,’ Rhabb shrugged. ‘She’s good. Very good. Transposes her report to a small tape – one of those very little ones – connected to her computer. She inserts the tape into the gizmo and sends it in one quick high-speed burst every night at 10pm usually.’
‘Sometimes later,’ Beatrice confided.
‘Couple of weeks ago she tells us that she’s being sent out from the Tuscan place. Gave us the dates. Everything. Had to pick up documents for Angelo in Rome, then come on down here to do things with banks. Well, this is the place for it, right? Doing things with banks.’
‘Has been known,’ Bond, full of sarcasm. ‘The Swiss do a good line in banks.’
‘We knew where she would be and what dates. We also knew exactly how the two shadows operated. Best of all, she told us about this upcoming gathering. Next weekend it appears the main leaders – area commanders – of COLD are to be at the Villa Tempesta for a special briefing. Whoever is the real mover and shaker of COLD is going to be there. A plot and some kind of party to celebrate. Our general feeling about it is that they’re going to make their move and that couldn’t be better as far as we’re concerned. The move has to be on American soil, so we felt itsterbb would be good to deal with them here, on Italian soil. Means we don’t have to get our own hands dirty; don’t have legal battles; don’t use up too much of the tax dollars fixing these guys. The Italians do it so much better, they just keep people in jail for a hundred and one years then they have the trial.’
‘We’d be part of it, naturally, but it’s the best way to go.’
‘Saves a lot of paperwork as well,’ Bond said, with his tongue firmly in his cheek.
‘That also. Anyway, we came to the conclusion that, if we could separate her from her twin shadows, we could kind of get you interested: in a purely unofficial way.’
They had picked her up in Rome, cutting Allan and Farmer off, done a debrief in an old CIA safe-house, where she made the tape giving details of her movements and when she would be in Geneva. Hotel. Room number. The whole works.
‘She had requested this room presumably?’ from Bond.
‘Luigi and Angelo requested it. They like to know where and when she moves, which was our only small error.’
‘It went wrong?’ Bond arched an eyebrow.
‘The shadows got worried. They lost her for over two hours in Rome. To them this is a complete disaster because Angelo and Luigi like to get nightly reports back giving all her movements. They want everything, even when she . . . No, forget it. Just trust me, James. The terrible twins lose her for two hours and it’s two hours of unaccountable time. We presume they call in and get their whatsits chewed off. She arrives in Geneva and they are waiting for her. They point out that the Tempesta brothers are a little piqued. From now, they say, we must have a mélange à three, as the French put it.’
‘Ménage à trois, Eddie,’ Prime corrected with a wince.
‘Whatever. Anyhow, we’re there, listening to all this, and the tape’s already gone to you . . .’
‘In the mail?’
‘No, actually it was popped through your letter box by one of our people in London, but now we have to bring in the Swiss, and thank heaven the Swiss cops are fans of the Bureau. They’ll do everything in their power to assist – just like the Italians who are really looking forward to next weekend. You saw how we managed things today, and I think you’d agree it was nicely done. The moment we heard last night that you were coming . . .’ He stopped suddenly as though he had said the wrong thing.
‘Last night? You have a line in to M?&rs particularly
18
THE UNRAVELLING
‘Don’t you get a little fed up with all this, James?’ She looked across the table, and Bond thought, not for the first time, that he might have made a terrible mistake walking away from her after the one operation they had worked on together – a momentous occasion when they had, literally, saved three world leaders from possible extinction. The fact that all three were now out of power was neither here nor there. Beatrice Maria da Ricci was here and now, causing his mind and body to enter a state of confusion. He focused on her question.
‘What is there to get fed up with?’
‘Well, I was officially sent in by the Service. You were basically conned into coming out here only to find that you’re a sort of errand boy for the FBI. It’s not even a job for your own country.’
‘Beatrice, that’s what I’ve always been – a kind of lethal errand boy. I follow orders, then use my own initiative t
o get the job done. Officially I’m on leave, but while this is an operation concerned primarily with the United States, it does have a knock-on effect as far as England is concerned. If these COLD people manage to pull off their stunt, it could plunge the whole world into misery. In a year or so, with COLD in control of the USA, the world itself would be taken back into the Ston@zeadf coursee Age. I suppose it’s the world’s unspoken greatest fear – an American isolationist policy which would take them off the board altogether; make them self-supporting; allow them to get on with taming their own country by brute force, and probably a lot of ignorance as well. So, the answer is no. No, I don’t feel like an errand boy. I’m glad I’m here. When it’s all over, there’ll be hell to pay back home, but the times are out of joint. Things aren’t what they were. For me life’s much more dangerous now than it was in the middle of the Cold War. Also, I’d like to see America still playing a part in world affairs, even if they do it badly.’
They sat in the restaurant of the Hôtel du Rhône, among the white napery, glittering silverware, lights glinting off the crystal glasses and the bar pianist playing old romantic standards.
Beatrice had put on a plain cocktail dress, dark blue with a plunging neckline, bare back and a simple strand of what looked like diamonds at her throat. Around them, money and rank occupied the other tables: mostly retired money. The couples looked socially very acceptable, and Bond thought of M’s old comment in Switzerland – ‘Berne is about politics,’ he would say. ‘Zurich concerns itself with money; but Geneva has its faded social circle. If you want to hobnob with Swiss residents who keep their money in Zurich, and their pretensions intact, then join the dying breed in Geneva.’
He looked across at Beatrice. ‘Remember the last dinner we had together?’
She gave a little nod and a wan smile. ‘The Rock Hotel, Gibraltar. After that bit of business inside the old rock itself.’
