An elegant young Russian with high Tatar cheekbones had made his way over. ‘Excuse me, Admiral, sir. Our Mr Yermolov from Moscow would like to have a talk with you, Mr Bond. Would you come, please?’
The man from Moscow was tall, stout, red-faced, with small authoritative eyes. Bond put him down as a veteran Bolshevik, old enough, probably, to have seen some service as a youth in the Wars of Intervention, working his way up through the Stalin machine, coming to real power since the fall of Khrushchev. He looked quick-witted and determined; he would have had to be both these things to be still alive.
Wasting no time on preliminaries, Yermolov led Bond to a pair of ornate pseudo-Empire chairs that had been placed, obviously with the present purpose in mind, near the marble fireplace.
‘You have enough to drink, Mr Bond? Good. I shall not detain you long. I want to say first that you have done my country a considerable service and that we are properly grateful. Comrade Kosygin himself has of course been fully informed of your role in this affair, and he has asked me to convey to you his personal thanks and congratulations. But more of that later.
‘Besides our gratitude, it’s also suitable that we offer you apologies. For certain specific failures of judgment on our part. I have to admit to you that our security apparatus in this area had been allowed to fall into disrepair. This was not the fault of the late Major Gordienko, a capable enough officer who –’
‘One moment, Mr Yermolov, if I may.’ Bond had grown tired of the official jargon he had had to talk and listen to and write for so much of the last three days – in being formally interviewed by Sir Ranald, in a six-hour session alongside Ariadne at the Russian Embassy, in compiling his own report. ‘Can we talk naturally? For instance, just to satisfy my curiosity, what happened to the traitor in your set-up here that Gordienko talked to me and Miss Alexandrou about?’
Yermolov breathed slowly through his nose. His little eyes looked quizzically at Bond. Without shifting their gaze he produced a cigarette that had apparently been lying loose in his pocket, inserted it into a stained amber holder and lit it with a cheap metal lighter. He said abruptly: ‘Yes. Why not? I’m sorry, I’ve been opening too many power-stations recently. That sort of thing doesn’t exactly encourage informality. Let’s talk naturally, then. But that’s not easy, you know, for a Russian. I’ll have to have a serious drink, and I insist that you join me. Vodka. We can offer you Stolichnaya, not the best there is, but perfectly wholesome.’
He snapped his fingers at the high-cheekboned young man and went on talking.
‘Putting it naturally, then, the traitor, or rather the double agent, tried to escape when he found his bosses’ plans had gone wrong. He’s been dealt with.’
‘Throat cut and dropped into the harbour, I suppose.’
‘If you go on putting things as naturally as that, it’s going to be a strain to keep up with you, Mr Bond, but I’ll do my best. No. We’re trying to avoid that sort of method these days. He’ll be going to prison on a number of civil charges. Genuine ones. We like to have insurance cover on certain of our employees abroad. What happens to him when he comes out has still to be decided. Ah, good.’ The drinks had arrived. ‘My very best respects. Long live England.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Hm. Now as to General Arenski and his ill-advised scepticism about the story Miss Alexandrou told him. Arenski has … had it. That’s correct, isn’t it? He was luckier than he deserved when the shells fired by that Nazi all exploded in the sea and did no more damage than give everybody a bad scare. It was lucky for us, too. I’ve had a strenuous day playing down the whole matter of the conference to the authorities here. I couldn’t have managed that if they’d known who was involved. Which a few deaths would have given away unmistakably.’
‘A good point.’ Yermolov did another slow inhalation. ‘To answer that I’m afraid I’ll have to fall back on not being natural. Just for the moment. A richer Power can always find ways of conciliating a poorer one about what are really only technical matters. The conference was over anyway. Is that acceptable?’
Bond grinned. ‘It’ll have to be, I suppose. Go on about Arenski.’
‘Well of course he tried to blame the shells on you. But that won’t stick. All the governments concerned are being circulated with a very full account of Chinese responsibility for this act of attempted terrorism. You and your bosses needn’t worry about that. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, it’s much more important to us that the reputation damaged in these parts should be Peking’s rather than London’s. We’ve put some good men on it.’
Bond savoured the smooth ferocity of the vodka. ‘What’s going to happen to Arenski?’
‘It’s corrective training for him, I’m afraid. Re-indoctrination with fundamental Socialist principles in Siberia. We still keep up that part of our traditions. In a more humane way than formerly. Rather more humane. Well … I think that covers everything. Except …’
Yermolov chewed at his lips. The noise of the party swelled in the background. Bond caught sight of Ariadne, beautiful and magnificently groomed in a lilac-coloured linen dress, the centre of a group of admiring Russians. The first really profound sense of relief swept through him. It was over. They had won. And more than that …
The man from Moscow was speaking again. ‘I’d like you to know that what you’ve done is extremely important. It’s helped to show my bosses, not just who our real enemy is – we know much more about Chinese ambitions than your observers do – but who our future friends are. England. America. The West in general. This Vrakonisi business may lead to a great deal.
‘And that means I’ve got to go back to being official for a moment. Sorry. My government wants you to accept the Order of the Red Banner for services to peace. So do I, Mr Bond. Will you?’
‘It’s very kind of them,’ said Bond, smiling. ‘And of you. But in my organization we’re not allowed to be given medals of any kind. Not even by our own people.’
‘I see.’ Yermolov nodded sadly. ‘I rather expected you to say that. I told Comrade Kosygin so. Well, there it is. It was an honest offer, expressing honest feeling. But, uh, you might not have found membership of the Order all that much of a distinction. Or an advantage. It wouldn’t do you any good at all if you happened to come up against our counter-espionage forces in the future, as you’ve so often done in the past. As a matter of fact,’ – here Yermolov leant forward confidentially – ‘even Russian nationals who’ve been given it haven’t noticed that it protected them very well – against anything. But, please, you must allow an old man his cynicism. Speaking naturally tends to go to one’s head.’
He got up and held out his hand; Bond shook it. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you must let me know, Mr Bond. Is there any chance that you might come to Russia – I mean as a visitor?’
‘Not at the moment. But I’ll remember.’
‘I’ll remember too. Goodbye.’
Ariadne had extricated herself from the Russian circle and was now talking to Litsas.
Bond went over to them.
‘Thank you for all you did, Niko. I’ve said it before, but this seems another occasion for saying it.’
Litsas clapped him on the back. ‘No thanks are needed. I enjoyed it. I’d do all of it again. Except for one thing.’
‘I know,’ said Ariadne, looking grave.
‘You won’t remember, James, but I became rather silly when I came back from … taking von Richter for a sail. I was like a baby. I couldn’t make him understand, James.’ The brown eyes were at their saddest. ‘He thought he’d been quite all right at Kapoudzona. Reprisals against civilians to punish guerrilla activity as laid down in orders. I asked him about the children and he said it was … unfortunate. I wanted to make him know what he’d done. And feel bad about it. He didn’t. He never understood. He was thinking I was a fool until I shot him. I intended to make an act of justice, an execution. But I just killed him because I was angry.’
‘Not i
n cold blood, then,’ said Bond, desperately trying to offer comfort.
‘That’s true. I must think of that.’ Now, with obvious effort, Litsas grinned. ‘Well, you’ve recovered in a good way. The glamorous secret agent again. I suppose that suit is full of little radios and concealed cameras and things.’
‘Packed to the seams.’ With mild surprise, Bond remembered for the first time since his return the devices installed by Q Branch – the picklock, the hacksaw blades, the midget transmitter. He had been right about their irrelevance, their uselessness when the crunch came.
Litsas had swallowed his drink. ‘I must go. I will let you know about Ionides. I’ve asked everybody I know to keep a look-out for him. He must have sold the Altair in Egypt or somewhere and decided to hide for a bit. But it’s funny. I could have sworn he was honest.’
‘So could I,’ said Ariadne.
‘And I,’ said Bond, remembering the guileless look and the proud upright carriage.
‘Oh well … You’re leaving in the morning? Come to Greece again, James. When the Chinese and the Russians aren’t chasing you. There are many places I’d like you to see.’
‘I’ll be back. Goodbye, Niko.’ The two men shook hands. Litsas kissed Ariadne and was gone.
Bond looked into the strong, vivid face at his side. ‘How are you, Ariadne?’
‘I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?’
‘Yes, you do. But I meant … after that night.’
She smiled. ‘It wasn’t so bad, you know. Oh, I hated it and I hated them. But I made it better by preventing them from enjoying it. I never let up on that. Finally they threw me out of bed and one of them went away and the other slept. So forget it, darling. Come on. I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?’
‘Very. Where shall we go?’
‘Not Dionysos’ place.’ They both laughed. ‘I’ll find somewhere. By the way, I noticed you didn’t thank me for all my help the way you thanked Niko.’
‘Of course not. You were on duty. You’re an agent of the GRU. Or you were.’
She gazed levelly at him. ‘I still am. It’s my work.’
‘After all that? After Arenski and his stupidity?’
‘Yes, after all that. It showed me how important the job is.’
‘If that’s how you feel, obviously you must stay with it.’
Ariadne put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Let’s not be serious tonight. We haven’t got long. Must you leave tomorrow?’
‘I must. But you do believe I don’t want to, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, darling. Let’s go.’
As, five minutes later, they walked along the side of the square with the evening bustle of Athens around them, Bond said, ‘Come to London with me, Ariadne. Just for a little while. I know they’ll give you leave.’
‘I want to come with you, just as you don’t want to go. But I can’t. I knew you’d ask me and I was all set to say yes. Then I saw it somehow wouldn’t be right. I think old Arenski was right about one thing, when he said I was bourgeois. I’m still stuck with my middle-class respectability. Does that sound silly?’
‘No. But it makes me feel sad.’
‘Me too. It all comes from our job. People think it must be wonderful and free and everything. But we’re not free, are we?’
‘No,’ said Bond again. ‘We’re prisoners. But let’s enjoy our captivity when we can.’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Two methods of indicating dialogue are used in this book.
Dialogue given in English translation from Russian or Greek, following Continental practice, is introduced by a dash; for example,
– Good morning, Comrade General.
Dialogue in English is enclosed in the normal inverted commas; for example, ‘He was hit in the back, I think.’
IAN FLEMING
Ian Lancaster Fleming was born in London in 1908. His first job was at Reuters news agency after which he worked briefly as a stockbroker before working in Naval Intelligence during the Second World War. His first novel, Casino Royale, was published in 1953 and was an instant success. Fleming went on to write thirteen other Bond books as well as two works of non-fiction and the children’s classic Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The Bond books have sold over sixty million copies and earned praise from figures such as Raymond Chandler who called Fleming ‘the most forceful and driving writer of thrillers in England’ and President Kennedy who named From Russia with Love as one of his favourite books. The books inspired a hugely successful series of film adaptations which began in 1962 with the release of Dr No, starring Sean Connery as 007. Fleming was married to Anne Rothermere with whom he had a son, Caspar. He died in 1964.
www.ianfleming.com
BOOKS BY IAN FLEMING
The James Bond Books
Casino Royale
Live and Let Die
Moonraker
Diamonds are Forever
From Russia with Love
Dr No
Goldfinger
For Your Eyes Only
Thunderball
The Spy Who Loved Me
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service
You Only Live Twice
The Man with the Golden Gun
Octopussy and The Living Daylights
Non-fiction
The Diamond Smugglers
Thrilling Cities
Children’s
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
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Colonel Sun copyright © Ian Fleming Publications Limited 1968
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Colonel Sun first published in Great Britain by Jonathan Cape in 1968
First published by Vintage Classics in 2015
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Colonel Sun Page 23
