James Bond - 031 - Cold

by John Gardner

  The ramp came down and the three cars backed from the barge, each turning and moving slowly up the rise towards the steps and terrace. The arrival seemed to have been carefully choreographed, for the cars came to a halt in line: the Rolls flanked by the other two guard vehicles.

  Doors started to open and slam. Luigi climbed from his side of the car, the door opened by the bodyguard, while Bond’s door was held by the chauffeur.

  He heard Luigi say thank you, and give the man a name, Ct one pointtadarlo. So he turned, smiled at the chauffeur and said, ‘Grazie . . . er . . .’

  ‘Filippo,’ the chauffeur supplied, and Bond simply nodded, repeating, ‘Filippo.’

  He saw the bodyguard had his luggage, the suitcase an wood, the cha

  8

  AT THE VILLA TEMPESTA

  Bond whispered, ‘Careful, Toni, not so close. Luigi’s going to kill us both.’

  ‘They’re going to try killing both of us anyway. Want to know what you know. Dry you out, then dump your body in the lake.’

  ‘How touching.’ Luigi’s voice was cold, raw and bitter as an ice-storm. ‘You should take a photograph, Maria. Call it Ancient Lovers’ Reunion.’ He spoke in English.

  Bond untangled himself from Toni Nicolletti, smiled at Luigi and walked slowly up the steps.

  ‘My brother, Angelo.’ Luigi grasped Bond’s shoulder, none too gently.

  ‘Charmed. I’m glad you could visit us.’ The relationship was clear from the brothers’ looks. Both had similar noses, foreheads, and the same imperious manner. The arrogance of power. The same way of using their hands so that, with a gesture, they could add a subtext to conversation. This last, as he had noted from Luigi, was an uncanny talent, but there the likeness ended. Angelos stomach turn over.

  ‘But she inherited . . .’ Bond began, and Angelo held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘They were married in Rome. The night before the wedding, old Papa summoned us to the study where he spent a lot of his time. We arrived, together with our wives, and the advocates were also there – the lawyers. In front of us he burned the prenuptial agreement, and made his new will which made certain that she inherited as a Tempesta. It was fair and honest, and the Tempestas have always had a reputation for honesty. It was agreed, and we all agreed.’

  ‘Even your wives?’ As he said it, Bond realized that it was too flippant.

  ‘Tempesta women always agree with the head of the family. They had to agree, and they did agree. Never afterwards were there any cross words. On his deathbed, Papa told Sukie what had been done and that she, as a Tempesta by marriage, should abide by it. You understand this, James Bond?’

  He nodded, yes. Aloud, he said. ‘It always amazes me. The honour and closeness of an old Italian family.’

  ‘Well, you see it in action now. To be truthful, we are desolated by Sukie’s death, which is one of the reasons we wanted to see you. James Bond, we doubted your integrity. I speak for both of us when I say that we still have small doubts, tiny doubts.’

  ‘The chance meeting with Toni, for instance,’ Luigi almost whispered.

  ‘You are a troubleshooter, James. For your government. Do you ever hire yourself out to others?’

  ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘In this case, to find the killer or killers of our stepmother. Sukie’s murderers.’

  ‘You don’t have to hire me for that,’ he said evenly. ‘I’m already on their trail.’

  ‘You are?’ Luigi sounded as though he had been stung.

  ‘You have some lead? Somebody in mind?’ Angelo’s voice hit a high register.

  ‘Not really. Not yet. But I am making enquiries.’

  ‘You get a million in sterling if you find them and bring them to us.’

  ‘No need for the money, but if you come up with any ideas . . .’

  ‘We may already have one.’ Angelo had calmed down again.

  ‘So?’

  ‘He’s an American. A retired general who cannot stop playing soldiers. Sukie knew him. She turned down offers of marriage from him on three occasions. He is a violent man, and I would not put this thing past him.’

  ‘He still likes playing soldiers?’

  ‘General Brutus Clay, Retired. A genuine American hero who still wants to be active, so he has his own private army.’

  ‘Not one of these militias we’ve been hearing so much about?’

  Luigi made a spitting noise, and Angelo went on speaking, distaste sprinkling his words. ‘No. No, not a militia. Just war games. Old soldiers who get together and play with real weapons. General Clay was a wealthy man from an even wealthier family when he first went into the United States Army. He has been retired for three years now and lives in a vast barrack-like place on high ground, in a mountainous area of Idaho.

  ‘With him, he has some hundred men and women who served with him, are now retired but want to go on – as I said – playing soldiers. He has a fortune invested in arms and equipment. He has bought items from Russia a up with?’

  At the

  9

  IF YOU CAN’T BEAT ’EM

  From Bond’s viewpoint, everything seemed to move in slow motion, and his eyes became a camera with a zoom lens closing first on the wicked eye of Luigi’s hand gun. He struggled to push himself off the bed upon which he was sprawled, yet all his focus was on Luigi’s finger as it took up pressure on the trigger.

  He finally regained his balance and rolled to his left off the bed. His first thought was that it seemed to be taking a very long time for Luigi Tempesta to squeeze the trigger. His hand moved to the pillows under which he had slid his own weapon.

  Then something else happened. Luigi, who appeared to have been standing as still as a wax dummy, pitched forward, hitting his chin on the foot of the bed. He did not utter a sound as he fell.

  ‘It’s okay. Only a tranquillizer.’ Toni Nicolletti stood in the doorway, a small high-powered air pistol in one hand and a more lethal Glock 9mm automatic in the other. She smiled nicely at Giulliana, whispering, ‘Love the underwear, Mrs Tempesta. Goodnight.’ The air pistol popped again and Giulliana seemed to freeze in place on one knee as she tried to get to her feet. Her eyes glazed over and, while Bond watched her, she slowly tipped to one side.

  ‘Looks like I just saved you from a fate worse than death, James.’ Toni raised an eyebrow as she gave him the evil-eye look.

  ‘She was damned well raping me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Toni smiled. ‘You still haven’t quite recovered from the dangerous effects of Giulliana’s body in all that frippery. I have a set just like that.’ She did a double-take and muttered, ‘Down boy. I think we should seriously try to get away from here as quickly as possible.’

  Bond tried to cover his confusion and adjust his clothing. ‘This a set-up? Where’s Angelo?’

  ‘A set-up, yes. I suspect to catch both Giulliana and yourself. She really cannot keep her hands off available men, so I suspect Luigi and Angelo set the trap. I know Luigi wanted to be rid of her, and that they both wanted to be rid of you – and me, come to that.’

  ‘And Angelo?’

  ‘Taking an enforced nap, like these two.’

  ‘This a kinder and gentler approach to law enforcement? Or just something for the girls?’

  ‘Watch it, James.’ The little air pistol moved in her hand.

  ‘Peace, Toni. So how do we get out of here?’

  ‘Well, the heavies are still lurking around. There’re always a couple on duty at night, so we have to avoid them. How much stuff do you want to get out with you? I together?’ tprghmean, are clothes expendable?’

  ‘You propositioning me, or are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely serious. Down in the boathouse – the one on our right going down to the pier – they have four jet-skis.’

  ‘Water motorcycles?’

  ‘Kind of. I know all the channels and, actually, I’ve already made arrangements.’

  ‘What kind of arrangements?’

  ‘We have a deal
with the CIA Station Chief in Rome. Ever since your arrival there’ve been a couple of his grey-suited field officers hanging around in Viareggio. I can send a quick burst to them before we leave. I have the technology. I can also lead you out through the right canals so that we get into Viareggio Port.’

  ‘And from there we can catch a fast cruise ship to DC, I presume.’

  ‘Better. If we go within the next thirty minutes, the field officers will pick us up in the pine woods.’

  Bond took only a moment to make a decision. ‘I presume we wear wetsuits. Anyway I can take a jacket and this briefcase?’

  She nodded. ‘I have a waterproof back-pack, but I suggest you keep a weapon handy. You’re carrying one, I see.’

  ‘Always. Let’s do it, Toni.’

  ‘We haven’t the time, James. Come on.’

  With his jacket slung over his left arm, and the ASP 9mm in his other hand, he followed Toni out of the room and down to her office, which was hidden away in the rear ground floor of the house. She moved silently, slowly and very carefully, stopping at corners, pistol ready, always alert. There was no other movement or sound from within the house, and when they were inside the office she reached back, closing and locking the door.

  The curtains were drawn across a long window, and the bulk of the room was taken up by a big desk, a padded high-backed leather chair and a comfortable easy chair.

  A bank of three telephones stood to the right of a computer screen and keyboard, while the computer itself stood on the floor to the left of the desk, so that she could reach down and have easy access to the disk drive and CD ROM player. One of the telephones, he noted, was equipped with a screen and a mass of buttons for entering and storing speed dialling numbers. He also guessed that this particular instrument was equipped with Caller ID to check incoming calls.

  By the time he had taken in the surroundings, Toni was already behind her desk with the computer on. She typed very quickly, then performed some keystrokes. The machine beeped twice, and she waited, eyes anxiously watching the monitor. Another beep and she relaxed, closed up whatever programme she had been running, then shut down the equipment.

  ‘They’ll be waiting for us in the pine woods.’ She raised her head and smiled. ‘There’s even a possibility that one of them will come through the port to meet us and guide us in. Now . . .’ she gestured towards the armchair and he saw two black wetsuits and back-packs lying across the chair.

  ‘You really had this worked out, then?’

  ‘I couldn’t warn you.’ She was already climbing into one of the wetsuits, pulling it on over her light slacks and rollneck sweater. ‘They were very much on the watch today, and they very rarely leave the house without one of the cars, so I was fairly certain that this was a come-on. If we leave a good trail, they might just follow us straight to the States. On the other hand – they presumably gave you one of their COLD contacts in case things went wrong for them text-indent: tadhere?’

  ‘The one you suggested on the disk. General Clay.’

  ‘That’s an old contact. The guy’s as nutty as a bag of Jamaican Mix. Crazy. I think they’ve used him as a hit man – well, not him, but his extraordinary outfit. I really don’t know if he’s affiliated to COLD, but I guess he’s got some clout in that direction. Go with great care, James, he’s evil.’

  He busied himself: packing his jacket, shoes and the briefcase into the waterproof back-pack, then followed her example by wriggling into the wetsuit. ‘What about Angelo’s wife?’ he asked, adjusting the legs of the suit.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Has she also gone to sleep for a while?’

  ‘At least six hours. Great stuff these tranquillizer darts. You probably noticed that they produce severe paralysis as soon as they inject. That lasts for about a minute, then the muscles relax and they just keel over and sleep for a minimum of six hours, sometimes longer.’

  ‘Must try some myself. Not going to get any sleep tonight. Anyway, Toni, where do we go from here?’

  ‘There’s only one way, and you’d better keep your gun within reach. That’ll do nicely.’ She patted a zippered pocket at the top of the thigh on the suit. ‘Remember there are at least two of the Tempesta lackeys roaming around, and they’re always well armed. We dodge in and out of the shadows down to the boathouse on the right at the bottom of the pier. The jet-skis are usually kept fully juiced up, so we start up a pair together as I press the button that opens up the front metal screen on the boathouse. Works like a garage door remote.’

  ‘A lot of noise then?’

  ‘Not really. These are pretty much high-tech and silent. But I want us both out of that place and onto the lake as quickly as possible. We’ll be going diagonally across, heading towards the last of six canals that run off in the direction of the sea. No lights. You’ll have to keep up by following my wake, and that could be a problem for you as it gets very dark out there.

  ‘If you lose me then find the canal right up by Torre del Lago – where they picked up the cars. The canal curves round to your left. You’ll pass an exit on your right after a while, then you come to a kind of T-junction. Go left and . . .’

  ‘Straight on ’til morning?’

  ‘More or less. The canal opens out into Viareggio Port. Lights when you’re safely into the canal because there might be barge traffic. Not much at this time of the year, but it would be best to be on the safe side. When you get into the port, dodge through the traffic and head for the open sea; then hang a right and try to stay inland. You’ll see the famous pine forests. Just pull your jet-ski over and leg it into the woods. Two men will be waiting for us.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ He winked at her.

  She was tightening the straps on her back-pack. Now she pulled up the hood surrounding her face, giving him a broad wink back.

  Bond was already organized, and he finished off by slipping the ASP into the zippered pocket, checking that he could unzip and get his hand onto the butt with ease.

  ‘Okay?’ from Toni. ‘I’ll lead the way down because I’ve done some practice runs since I’ve been here. Ready?’

  ‘Break a leg.’ Bond smiled grimly and followed her along the passage and up to the hall, then through the door and onto the terrace.

  There was an almost full moon, but there were also some thick clouds. Hardly any breeze around the lake, but there had to be a stiff wind up at around five or six thousand feet, for the moon was constantly being obscured by the fast-moving clouds. He moved swiftly to keep up with Toni, who seemed to be surefooted and silent, gliding in and out of the shadows. She froze when the moon peeped out from the clouds, moving on when the darkness once again covered the lake. It took almost five minutes to reach the rear of the boathouse, and the door creaked as she opened it. To both of them, the creak sounded like a warning amidst the silence.

  Inside, Toni had a tiny penlight in her hand, and she had obviously checked out the boathouse in darkness on a number of occasions. She leaned back and took Bond’s hand, pulling him towards the water which he could hear lapping against the wooden decking. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the shape of the four jet-skis bobbing, low in the water, at their mooring points.

  ‘Let’s take the ones at the end,’ she whispered, leaning forward, almost overbalancing as she explained the fuel gauges with the penlight. ‘They’re both full.’ He could see enough now to catch the smile on her face. Then he felt her lips on his. ‘Okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s do it now.’

  She moved back out of sight for a second and there was a low hum as she operated the metal door. ‘You have ridden one of these before?’ she asked in a slightly louder voice now.

  Bond nodded. ‘A couple of times. Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall off.’

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Engines,’ she all but shouted, and he lugged himself onto the wide seat of the jet-ski, made certain that it was cast off properly, and twisted the ignition a fraction of a
second before Toni’s machine burst into life. The machine bucked under him so that he had to throttle back before opening it smoothly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her jet rise in the water and begin to streak out towards the open lake in a wide turn.

  Advancing the throttle again, he felt the chill of wind on his face and a sense of speed, the entire machine wallowing and then rising, carrying him forward so that he could watch the white trail of her wake as she circled into the lake. Within seconds he had to ease back on the power as he took station a little behind her and to her right. If he had swung too far to the left, he would have been in line astern from her and could easily have been thrown off if he slipped into her boiling white wake.

  The moon came out from behind the clouds just as he started to find the slap, bump and bucking of the machine an exhilarating challenge. It seemed to light up the whole lake, a long wide stretch of molten lead on which he rode with Toni still a little to his left and in front. There was a sudden static in the air, not quite a sound, but a tension he could almost hear, like a rush of air between the two jet-skis. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise that it was not the moon shining across the flat water, but a halogen searchlight beam, and that the other feeling was the crack caused by the air mass being punctured by high-powered bullets.

  Glancing back, he saw the bows of a motor launch some fifty yards away, but bearing down upon them. In the cockpit, one of the Tempestas’ men – it looked like Filippo – was firing bursts of tracer at them with a semi-automatic weapon. There was another flicker, and this time Bond threw himself forward over the steering bars of the machine as the bullets hissed into the water between them.