by John Gardner
‘You still think he’s going for that?’
‘It’s the reason some of the best people in the business are sitting waiting for you in M’s office at this very moment. And you, James, are the designated slayer of dragons.’
Indeed, the group sitting and standing around the glass and chrome desk in M’s office did consist of the best. He recognized a senior Special Air Service officer, and a commander from the Metropolitan Police. The latter, whose name he thought was Robb, controlled the Diplomatic Bodyguard Section, which included the so-called Royal Detectives. There was also a roly-poly little man with a constant smile – introduced simply as Ben – who turned out to be Head of Security for the Euro Disney complex, some twenty miles east of Paris. Yet another member of the group had sharp, chiselled features and looked distinctly French. He also did not seem at ease in civilian clothes.
‘This is Colonel Fontaine, of GIGN,’ M introduced them, and the Frenchman gave a little nod of recognition. ‘Captain Bond, you’ve worked with GIGN before, I think. Colonel Veron speaks highly of you.’
There was a slight release of tension in the room which Bond put down to the stiff attitude Fontaine had obviously been taking. The French Special Forces Unit – GIGN – is not known for willing co-operation, even with its allies, and particularly on its home ground.
‘The French authorities have kindly agreed to members of the SAS and, of course, detectives from the royal bodyguard to assist in this operation.’ In spite of this, M did not appear to be a happy man. There had probably been a battle of wills before Bill Tanner had brought them into the office.
‘Then Her Royal Highness is definitely taking the princes to France on Sunday?’ Bond tried to make it sound matter-of-fact, but the news was worrying. ‘Doesn’t she realize . . . ?’
‘No, Captain Bond.’ It was the policeman, Commander Robb, who answered. ‘We’ve put it to Princess Diana. Her answer was completely uncompromising. She says that they’re always possible targets for terrorists and – to quote her – ‘‘nut cases’’, so why should this be any different? She also said she had complete faith in her detectives, the GIGN, and the SAS.’
‘The point is,’ M sounded as though he were about to become highly sarcastic. ‘The point is, we have yet to ask her if she has faith in you, James.’
‘Me, sir?’
‘Mmmm. You see we’ve come to a kind of decision in your absence. You ever play that game Tag when you were at school?’
‘Yes, sir, only we called it He. There was a dangerous variation known as Chain He.’
‘Well, be that as it may, to quote from our various childhoods, you, James, are He or It, or whatever other dt believe a word of it.; text-align: center carefulesignation. You’re the one who’s going to get us out of this.’
‘I don’t suppose I have any right of appeal?’
‘None at all. You’re going to be the white knight who saves the beautiful princess. After all, you know the man Dragonpol better than we do. You’ve been close; sniffed his lair and all that. So you get the plum job.’
‘And what am I to do, sir? Specifically, I mean.’
‘Catch the blighter. Kill him if you have to.’
‘There are no alternatives?’
‘Tell me what else we can do if we’re not going to see an assassination on Sunday morning?’
‘There is one other way, sir. We could remove the target.’
‘No. We try to remove the assassin.’
‘Everybody really believes this man Dragonpol will attempt an assassination?’ Commander Robb sounded dubious. ‘I mean he must know that their Royal Highnesses’ll be protected in an unprecedented . . .’
‘With all due respect,’ Bond’s eyes hardened, ‘you could put every member of the NATO Forces, plus the SAS and GIGN into the theme park. You could even dress Her Royal Highness, and the princes, in bullet-proof underwear, and Dragonpol would still probably hit them.
‘With him it’s a vocation. It’s what he does best. I’ve simply got to look at the thing logically. We know what he’s done before. We had him – though we didn’t realize it at the time – and we’ve let him go. He’s a specialist, and he does this for the fun of it. It’s his job, and he takes pride in it. The killing is a byproduct. The main thrill for him is setting things up. For David Dragonpol this is better than any drug high, better than sex, better than anything. He’s going to kill the Princess and the two young princes . . .’
‘Unless we stop him; or I should say, James, unless you stop him, and beat him at his own game. Now, do you think that can be done?’
Bond heard himself, as though from a long way off, saying, ‘Possibly.’
‘Then we have some kind of a chance. As I said before, we came to an understanding before you arrived, James. If you cannot, or do not, take Dragonpol before the royal party actually arrives at Euro Disney, then we will force a change of schedule. The GIGN, SAS and her own detectives will head her off at the pass, so to speak – it’s our only fail-safe. They’ll manufacture a problem with the aircraft, or the helicopter: something which makes it impossible.’
‘If that has to be done, sir, then I shall not be alive to see it. You should know that, in all probability, if she does not put in an appearance, he’ll only get her somewhere else. Now, let me look at the arrangements for Sunday.’
Once more, within the room, there was a sense of tension released, and Bond knew what many of them were thinking – ‘Thank God it’s not me.’
‘What do you need, James? Ask for anything.’
‘A few hours alone with Ben, here.’ He indicated the roly-poly Head of Disney Security. ‘Then, when we’ve talked, I want a couple of hours on my own to work it out. After that can we talk again, sir?’
They were given a large empty office on the third floor where Ben spread out a chart of the entire Disney area, and began to recite the arrangements which had been co-ordinated between the Disney organizationt believe a word of it.ru f b d and those who advised the Princess.
He talked for a long time, showing exactly where the royal party would arrive, and what exhibits and rides had been selected. He added that the bulk had been chosen by young Prince William and Prince Harry.
‘Our own people and the French police will be there for crowd control . . .’
‘You mean the park is going to be open to the public as usual?’ Bond looked up sharply.
‘Oh, yes. It’s one of Princess Diana’s stipulations. She wants her party to mingle with the public for as long as possible. We, of course, are arranging that one car of each ride is specially set aside, and decorated, for her and the children, but the rides will run normally and there will be other people on them at the same time as the royal party. Naturally, they get to queue-jump.’ He gave a nervous little laugh, which Bond did not return.
‘The Disney Board of Directors is very worried about all this.’ Ben did not lose his smile. ‘It would be terrible publicity for the entire company.’
‘It wouldn’t actually make the Royal Family’s day either.’ He gave Ben a sharp, unsmiling look, but the security chief maintained his cheerful expression. Probably the happy face came with the territory.
‘You know, the first time I went to the Magic Kingdom, in Orlando, I didn’t think I was going to like it.’ Bond thought he might put the man at ease by telling him the truth. ‘Funny, I went with a girlfriend and we only booked for two days. I thought the whole thing would be tasteless, tawdry and a bit phony. In the end we stayed for a week. The great thing about Disneyland is that it works. The moment they walk through those gates and find themselves in the Town Square and Main Street, the visitors know that they’re going to have one hell of a good time. The rides are a knockout, and it does become wonderful.
‘I’m pretty case-hardened, Ben, but there’s a child in all of us, and that place brings out all the wonder of childhood. I noticed then that there were as many adult couples having a good time as there were children. I tend to get a bit angry when
people knock your outfit.’
‘You don’t work there unless you feel like that.’ Ben’s smile broadened.
‘Is the Euro complex the same as the others – Orlando, Anaheim, Tokyo?’
‘If you know the layout of those, then you’ll recognize Euro Disney. We have the same distinct areas – Main Street USA, Adventureland, Frontierland, Fantasyland, Discoveryland, with the Sleeping Beauty’s Castle dominating the whole thing – though it’s called Le Château de la Belle au Bois Dormant, like we’ve also got Blanche-Neige et les Sept Nains, and La Cabine des Robinsons. But you’ll recognize it all, even with the few additions – Star Tours which is a terrific ride through the Star Wars experience, with a novice robot at the controls of your space vehicle.’
‘So, which areas will the royal party be seeing?’
Ben went through his list: they were to arrive at eight-thirty on the Sunday morning, an hour before the park opened. The tour was to include Main Street USA; the Euro Disney Railroad, which circles the entire hundred and thirty-six acres; Phantom Manor – the Euro Disney name for the Haunted Mansion – Star Tours; Pirates of the Caribbean; the Carousel and a trip on the sternwheel steamboat Mark Twain.
‘That’s a two-hour schedule,t believe a word of it.ru f b d’ Ben told him, ‘but we’ve left a half-hour at each end in case the princes persuade their mama to let them go on something else.’
Bond questioned him about the way security worked, learned about the underground tunnels which allowed maintenance and emergency access to any part of the park, while employees also kept a strict eye on each of the rides and experiences.
‘There are people down there watching all the time – tending the TV monitors, the computers that run the main shows, and the audio-animatronics, the robot people and animals. The accent on everything down there is smooth and efficient running. The visitors and their safety come first.’
As he talked, Ben pointed out the various routes and sights on the large plan. They went on for over two hours, after which Bond asked to be left alone with the chart.
Now it starts, he thought, and for the next hour and a half, he examined the map, thinking himself into David Dragonpol’s mind, trying to follow the serial assassin’s logic. What would he do? How would he go about something as calculated and coldblooded as this particular killing?
When he had made certain decisions, he rang M’s office. ‘I’m ready to put my suggestions to the whole team, sir.’
‘I’ll get them in here. Some of them are probably asleep, but let’s do it now.’
As he entered the now crowded office, the first person he saw, waiting for him by the door, was the delectable Ann Reilly, assistant to the armourer, Head of Q Branch, and, therefore, known to all as Q’ute. She was still as desirable as ever – a tall, elegant, leggy young woman with sleek and shining straw-coloured hair which she wore in an immaculate, if severe, French pleat.
‘M says I’m to give you anything you’re going to need,’ she said, with her eyes wide and innocent.
‘Chance, my darling Q’ute, would be a fine thing, as they say.’
‘Oh, you’re hooked well and proper, James. I’ve met the lovely Flicka, and you might not escape from that one’s clutches.’
‘Actually I might not want to.’
‘Good. Now what do you need?’
He had already prepared a small list which he handed over, telling her that Ben should take the stuff with him back to Paris. ‘I’ll brief him before he goes.’
She nodded and departed to search the Q Branch stores for the listed items.
As he turned back into the room, he found Flicka beside him. ‘That Q’ute person?’ she began. ‘You haven’t been playing fast and loose with her, have you, darling James?’
‘A little fast, but never loose.’
‘Well forget it, my dear. I’ll scratch her eyes out and rip the hair off her head if she ever makes a move.’
‘It’s your subtle approach I love so much, Flick.’
‘Well, I do have one boon to crave.’
‘And?’
‘M says I can’t come with you. He’s told me that Euro Disney is out of bounds to me. He’s even suggesting that I should go and pamper myself in some health farm. A place called Shrublands.’
‘I’d try and talk him out of that, Flick. I went there once and it almost killed me.’
‘James, I want you to talk him out of keeping me away from Euro Disney.’
He put his arms on her shoulders andt believe a word of it.ceouthing looked into her face. ‘No, Flick. Nothing against your experience and training. Nothing against your sex. Nothing that’s politically incorrect. But I’m going alone, K0RUA">‘
19
DEATH AMONG THE MAGIC
Later, Smiling Ben told him that this was one of the best Saturdays Euro Disney had experienced in 1992: a year which had been, according to Ben, ‘A natural disaster on account of the weather.’ Today Disneyland was packed, and the sun shone, dancing off the turrets of the castle, glittering from the water around Big Thunder Mountain, and infecting the crowds with amiable good humour.
Most of the children, and some adults, wore mouse ears and carried balloons. The rides emptied as everyone took to the open spaces, crowded the sidewalks of Main Street USA, up through Adventureland and around Discoveryland, to see the afternoon’s Grand Parade.
The Parade was one of the things he remembered clearly from his visit to the Magic Kingdom in Orlando. Here in France it seemed bigger and better than he recalled, but possibly this was a trick of memory and distance in time. It exploded on to the streets and walkways in a wonderfully choreographed snake of colour, movement and music. The marching bands swept by in celebration of the cheeky little mouse who had stolen the minds and hearts of the world for over six decades, their baton-twirlers leaping, hurling their sticks high, twisting, cartwheeling and seemingly doing impossible acts of juggling. Costumed young men and women dancers appeared to have walked straight out of a Hollywood movie – which was, after all, the general idea.
The bands and dancers were interspersed by a moving panorama of floats: Snow White stood by the Wishing Well, while the Dwarfs clowned; Cinderella’s Pumpkin Coach was pulled by six decorated carousel horses; Captain Hook’s ship carried Peter Pan, Wendy and the Lost Boys on a moving painted sea. There were Pooh Bear; Beauty and the Beast; Robin Hood and the foxy Sheriff; the animals from the Jungle Book; and all the rest, with some Disney characters walking and jumping along, mixing with children in the crowd. In the place of honour, Mickey Mouse himself, in tail coat and scarlet trousers, waved a white-gloved hand from his throne high above everyone. There was laughter, cheering and, for a time, everybody in this fabulous place became children again, caught up in the magic and wonder of it all.
Deep in the crowd, Bond was unrecognizable: grey haired with thick horn-rimmed spectacles, looking much older and walking with a slight, stooping limp. He did not like having to resort to disguises, but, in order to get Dragonpol, he would have walked naked through fire – which he knew he even might be called upon to do before the next twenty-four hours were over.
Now, as he wandered around the park, he smiled with pleasure to see Chip and Dale, or Minnie, signing autogra?’ Bond askeddU connectph books for clamouring children, while Pluto and Goofy played the fool with kids of all ages. Then the chill struck him. What if the man inside the hot stuffy Goofy suit was Dragonpol himself?
He banished the thought quickly. It was not impossible, but the idea smacked of paranoia, so he took himself off to pass the time on some of the rides. As on his last visit, in the United States, he enjoyed the Phantom Manor – as they called it here – with its incredible special effects, the ballroom full of twirling ghostly eighteenth-century dancers; the terrible time-wrecked dining-room set for the wedding breakfast that never was, with the hapless bride’s wraith appearing in the room; then another phantom seated, playing the organ; a glass bowl in which a pallid human woman’s head talked endlessly
of terrible portents, and the amazing moment on the way out when a mirror showed him seated between a pair of ghastly creatures. It was certainly value for money.
Coming out of Phantom Manor, he took a long and careful walk around the lake which was the main feature of Frontierland. Big Thunder Mountain reared up in the middle of the water and he watched as the rickety little train, with its open trucks full of screaming visitors, came spiralling down at speed to sweep through the water splash at the base, then rise again in a dizzying turn that would take it back to the starting point.
He stood for a few minutes watching the hordes of people lining up to take a ride in one of the riverboats, Molly Brown or Mark Twain. These big replicas of the old steamboats from a more leisurely time, plied constantly from their landing around the big reach of water that made the Rivers of the Far West and the lake surrounding both Big Thunder Mountain and Wilderness Island. Indian canoes and River Rogue Keelboats also crossed and recrossed the water he had fingered as one of the possible locations Dragonpol might conceivably use as a final point of departure for the royal party.
Walking over to Discoveryland, he spent almost an hour in line for the Star Tours, watching R2D2 and C3PO preparing a craft for take-off and finally entering the very realistic spaceship which was to take the passengers to the moon of Endor. Only when the doors slid into the closed position did he discover, like his fellow travellers, that the Robot, Rex, was also making his first space flight, taking their spacecraft in wrong and terrifying directions as they shook, bumped and rattled at seemingly impossible speeds, straying right into a battle straight out of Star Wars.
Early in the evening, he ate a pleasant salmon steak at the Blue Lagoon Restaurant, under what appeared to be a tropical night sky, with the sound of surf on the beaches. The lagoon itself was visible from where he sat, and every few minutes the boats full of visitors drifted past on their way to the adventure of the Pirates of the Caribbean which, he decided, would be his next experience.
