Win, Lose Or Die jb-23

by John E. Gardner

  “Thank you, Prime Minister. That’s what we see as the most viable course .

  But the PM had not finished. “This will, of course, not be possible to accomplish in the next four days. We started our talks this morning. We will leave, secretly from Rota, in four days. I am sure we’ll all be quite safe in your hands. Thank you, Sir John, thank you, Captain Bond. Now we must really get on with our work.

  “It’s like trying to argue with an Exocet,” Sir John Walmsley said angrily once they were outside. “So be it. We make for Rota.

  The rest of the Task Force will have to stay outside the harbour, as a defensive wall, while we, Bond, will just have to make the best of it. How’s the fellow who got shot this morning?”

  “He’ll be okay, but we can’t even think of questioning him yet.”

  “Come up to the bridge with me.” The Rear-Admiral had already set off at a brisk pace. “When’ll you be able to interrogate the man?”

  “Probably some,time tomorrow. I have an armed guard on him round the clock.

  “You going to leave him to the tender mercies of the inquisitor you had flown in from Gib?”

  Bond sighed. “As it happens, I was going to have him relieved because I didn’t think him suitable for the Deeley girl. He’s got a paranoid personality, and jumps at every shadow. He’s not the most pleasant interrigator I’ve met, and he sees plots behind every uniform and every bulkhead, though I think he might just be the type to deal with this joker.”

  “Your province, Bond. Your province. You must do as you see fit.” They had reached the bridge. “Oh, merciful heavens, look what we have here!” Walmsley exploded. Outside the weather had closed in, with low cloud and driving rain.

  “It’ll take me until tonight to get into Rota. Maybe late tonight.

  You get on with what you have to do, Bond, and I’ll try and make it in the shortest possible time. The Task Force will have to close up, and that’s not going to be easy in the circumstances.

  We’ll talk later. Right?”

  “Aye-Aye, sir.” Bond went below, found the sick bay and spoke to Surgeon Commander Grant.

  “He’s weak and unconscious,” the doctor told him, “though one of the Flag Lieutenants guarding Mrs. T came down and shot off some photographs to send to London for identification. The marines will keep an eye on him, and, I assure you that, unless he’s subject to a miracle, there’s no way he can get out of here.

  Lost too much blood.” Next, Bond summoned Donald Speaker to his cabin. The man showed no sign of relaxing his near-paranoid unpleasant stance and arrived late, without knocking at the door.

  “Sit down.” Bond knew he sounded like a headmaster who had summoned a recalcitrant boy to his study.

  “What is it now? More shady business?”

  “In a word, yes. But you’d better know that I had London’s clearance to have you taken ashore and sent home, after last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. But another job’s come up that might just be right for your unpleasant talents.” He instructed the interrogator regarding the wounded prisoner. “You’ll have a word with the Surgeon Commander tomorrow morning, and you will take his advice, and his advice only, as to when you can start. Now, I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you until you’ve got a result.”

  In the wardroom at lunchtime, Clover Pennington came over and said she was sorry to hear about the Russian girl. “You’d grown quite fond of her, hadn’t you?” she asked.

  “In a professional way only, Clover. She was good at her job.”

  “And aren’t I any good at mine?”

  “You’re excellent, Clover. But let it all lie till we’ve got the next few days behind us.”

  They made Rota just before midnight. A boat went ashore with Rear-Admiral Sir John Walmsley, who stayed on the US Base until three in the morning, having made all arrangements for the base to house the inbound Rolls-Royce technicians.

  The ship’s routine went on as usual, and, after doing his rounds of the secure areas for the heads-of-state and their bodyguards, Bond turned in a good hour before Walmsley was back in the ship.

  His bedside communications telephone woke him at just before six.

  “Captain’s compliments, sir. Could you go to his night cabin immediately?” It was the Officer of the Watch.

  Bond shaved and dressed at the speed of light, and presented himself at the Captain’s night cabin ten minutes later.

  Walmsley was in his bunk, looking tired, propped on one elbow, sipping a large mug of coffee with one hand and holding a signal in the other. “They give me no peace,” he said. “This is, I think, for you, Bond.” He waggled the flimsy signal. “Coffee?”

  “No, I’ll get some later, sir.” Bond quickly read the flimsy.

  FROM OC USNB ROTA SPAIN TO CAPTAIN HMS INVINCIBLE STOP IF YOU HAVE A CAPTAIN JAMES BOND ON BOARD HE IS REQUESTED TO COME ASHORE IMMEDIATELY TO TAKE URGENT INSTRUCTIONS FROM HIS SUPERIORS STOP PLEASE ADVISE SO HE CAN BE MET STOP CAPTAIN BOND IS ADVISED SONGBIRD STOP “I trust this was in cipher, sir?” The use of the word Songbird authenticated the signal for Bond.

  “With you fellows it’s always in cipher. My writer unbuttoned it under absolute security. Gravestone security.”

  “I think I’d better go, then, sir.”

  “Thought you might. I’ve got a boat standing by. Only one rating to take you in. I don’t want to send a lot of people off the ship at the moment. Should he wait for you?”

  Bond thought for a moment. “No, sir. But, as a precaution, I’ll signal you when I’m ready to return and I’ll use the word Songbird. If everything is normal, could you use Tawny Owl at the end of your signal?”

  “Oh lord, must I, Bond?”

  “My signal to you will assure you of my safety. You should also respond in kind.”

  “Very well. Off you go. Your boat’s waiting at the forward gangway, port side.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As Bond left the cabin, so the Rear-Admiral leaned forward and began to write on the pad by his bed.

  The rain had eased oIl, but Bond had muffled himself in his greatcoat, as the wind still carried rain and it was bitterly cold at seven in the morning. Also the Leading Seaman who steered them in did not seem to be completely awake. Altogether, Bond was glad when they reached the jetty. A civilian car was parked nearby and, as he came up the stone steps, a United States Navy Commander stepped from the driving side.

  “Captain Bond?” He saluted.

  “The same.

  “Anything else to tell me, sir?”

  “Predator,” Bond snapped back.

  “Fine, sir. My name’s Carter. Mike Carter, and I’m acting on behalf of Songbird. If you’d like to get in, we have someone waiting for you on the base, sir.

  They drove through the early morning mist, and the rain started up gain.

  Finally, the American Commander stopped the car by a well guarded gateway. A black guard stepped forward and scrutinised the laminated card proffered by the Commander, looked at Bond and asked who he was.

  Commander Carter handed him another piece of paper which, to his amazement, Bond saw had his photograph attached to it.

  “Okay.” For the first time the guard saluted, and they drove on.

  It was like any other base, apart from an area in the distance which contained two huge communications spheres, made from angled panels, making them look like enormous white golf-balls.

  From between them other equipment sprouted - a very tall aerial, and three rotating dishes.

  Over to his left, Bond saw another communications ball with some of the panels missing.

  “That one not functioning?” he asked.

  “Hell, no.” Carter smiled. “We share this place with the K Spanish Navy. That was going to be for them, so we built the sphere, then they couldn’t afford the gizmos that go inside. Tell you what, though, on Halloween we put lights in it and move the panels around.

  It looks great as a pumpkin.
”

  They pulled up outside a low office building which had a marine armed guard at the door.

  “Okay, here we are. Terminus, as they say. Just follow me, sir.

  He showed the ID to the marine and they went through a small reception area, and along a passage. “In here, sir.” Carter opened a door. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I haven’t had breakfast and I’m pretty dry.”

  “Bacon, eggs, coffee.”

  “Why not?” Bond smiled.

  “Be back in a few minutes then, Captain Bond, sir.”

  Bond nodded, and went into the room.

  “Hello, my darling, I thought I’d never see you again,” said Beatrice Maria da Ricci, who was sitting at a table with a large mug of coffee in front of her.

  Batsblood

  For once, Bond was lost for words. “But he croaked, “you’re Beatrice,” pronouncing it as she had done, Beh-ahTree-che. As he did so, he realised that he had been mourning her since the terrible moment on Christmas afternoon when he had seen her blown to pieces in front of him at the Villa Capricciani on Ischia.

  Instinctively he reached out to touch her hand. It was flesh - and blood, and he really did not care if she were the “Cat” of BAST.

  She smiled up at him, the smile lighting her eyes, and the whole of her face. “It’s okay, James. I am real, not a ghost. Also I am on your side. I am not the “Cat’.”

  “But how … What? - - I saw .

  “You saw a very good illusion. Like a magician’s trick, like David Copperfield in America, or Paul Daniels in England.”

  “How?”

  “Your life was saved. So was mine, and we owe our lives to Franco whom we can never repay, because he is dead. I pleaded with M to let you know before this, but he said no, not until you could be off the ship for a little time.”

  “But, how, Beatrice?”

  There was a knock at the door and Carter reappeared with a tray.

  Bacon, fried very crisply, the American way, two eggs, sunnyside up, a plate of toast, preserves and a huge pot of coffee.

  “Don’t forget, Miss da Ricci,” Carter cautioned as he left.

  “There isn’t much time. Your boss said it had to be done as quickly as possible.”

  “Haven’t forgotten, Mike. Thank you.

  Carter left and she told Bond to eat. “I will talk. Just like old times, eh?”

  He nodded, and again asked how.

  “There are two things you should know, James. First, you only met Franco and Umberto, who both gave their lives for all this.

  We had more people watching out for us. Four more men, all well concealed. They were our real watchers. Second, while we showed you around the Villa we did not quite show you everything. Maybe that was wrong. I don’t know any more.”

  “What didn’t you show me?” He swallowed the orange juice in one draught, then tucked in to the bacon and eggs. As fastidious as he was about breakfast, this was heaven. He had not realised how hungry he was, nor how thirsty. Unnaturally thirsty.

  “You recall the turning space for the car, near the lily pond, just inside the main gates?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, the wall to the right, before you came to the second gate and the steps .

  “What of it?”

  “Describe it to me.

  Bond frowned, munching on a piece of toast. “It was a wall.”

  He thought again. “A wall covered with ivy.”

  “You got it. A wall covered in ivy. But it was a wall that was not a wall. There was also a gate in the wall. The ivy was always clipped regularly, so that the gate could be opened and closed.

  The same on the other side, but when you were through the gate you were in a little metal room, like a tall box. It was used as a watchers’ point, or for quick escape and concealment. One of our other watchers spotted people getting in through the main gates in the early hours of Christmas Day. The locks and devices seemed to make no difference to them. They were very skilful people. But you know they are skilful.”

  “And they …?”

  She nodded. “They tampered with the car. Put a bomb underneath.”’ “Yes?”

  “Franco was alerted. He told me on Christmas morning. Also, you should know that they had already put in a bugging device.

  I blush, James. They heard everything.”

  “you? You blush?” He leaned across the table and kissed her.

  “Listen, James, there is not much time. Our other watchers saw that the intruders, the people from BAST, were lazy. They knew we would not come out, or go near the car until either late on Christmas Day, or even the next day. They left all things unguarded. They just went away.”

  “And Franco had a look-see?”

  “More than a look-see. It was not easy. They used C-4

  plastique, with a remote detonator. A button job, as they like to call it.”

  “So what did Franco do?”

  “It was dangerous. Very dangerous. He bypassed their remote control, and put in a different one. He also added a few extra things for luck. The door had been left open, and their remote simply operated a little light-bulb on the steering-wheel. That was the first thing Franco put in.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, and the building shook slightly as an aircraft took off from the base.

  “We had our own button job. When they operated their button, I pressed our button and this made for a great deal of smoke.

  Very thick smoke, and a flash, which went off four seconds after the smoke. A big flash. The smoke was dense. It covered the whole parking area.”

  Bond remembered, and saw it all again. First there was smoke, then the flash, followed by the terrible detonation.

  “This is why I dashed ahead. We thought that if they believed I was dead they would make a move - which they did. As soon as I pressed our button I was able to run through the smoke, and get to the other side of the wall. In the tall metal box, there, we had another remote, linked to the real detonator. With these things there is often a time-lapse. They all thought, like you, that I was blown to pieces “But you were. They found remains.”

  She did not look him in the eyes. “Yes, that was most unpleasant, and a terrible thing to do. I shall have to make many novenas.

  Franco’s people robbed a grave. I don’t wish to talk about that.”

  “You’re alive, Beatrice, my darling. That’s really all that matters.”

  “Actually, James, it does matter, but there is something more important. You have to get back to the ship. Even now, terrible things could be happening. We have people watching but we don’t really know what they’re going to do. Or how they’ll do it.

  You were followed, by the way .

  “Followed here?”

  “No, after the bomb. To the place they had set up on the mainland. We managed to get our first good photograph of Bassam Baradj, who we think is the “Viper’ of BAST. The leader, who is going to do something pretty terrible to those three important people you have on your ship.” She pushed a photograph across the table. It was the man he had known as Toby Lellenberg, the Commanding Officer of Northanger.

  “That’s Baradj?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, if all that was phoney, why in heaven’s name didn’t anyone do something about it? Why didn’t you get me out? Come to that you could have scuppered Baradj at the same time. Why, Beatrice?”

  She gave him a wan smile. “Why, indeed? I tried, James. I tried very hard. To me it seemed the obvious thing to do.”

  “Then why didn’t you …?”

  M overruled it. You were monitored very carefully. The whole Northanger set-up was kept under close surveillance, but M said we were to let them play it out. His argument was fairly sound.

  He wanted to use the information regarding your.- hijacking, and, come to that, the hijacking of all the Northanger staff as a lever.”

  “What kind of a lever?”

  “He thought the Prime Minister, the US President, and Gorby w
ould abort the whole thing if they smelled danger. He that is - laid it all out to the PM; went through the dangers, and the difficulties we might have with security. But . .

  “But she wouldn’t listen.” Bond supplied.

  Beatrice nodded. “She waved aside everything. Even called the US President while M was there. Their argument was that this was urgent, important, and couldn’t be rescheduled. I rather gather that she just waved aside the danger, and the others followed her, like sheep.”

  “That all figures. Do we know where Baradj is now?”

  “We’re not sure. Maybe on Gibraltar. Maybe even nearer.

  Now you know this, you have to get back. You also have to get Mrs. Thatcher, the President of the United States, and Mr. Gorbachev off the ship in time. Off and away from it.”

  An expletive suddenly burst out of Bond’s mouth.

  “What?” Beatrice asked.

  “If you’re not the “Cat’, then .

  “Of course. Did you not realise that before? It’s one of the reasons you have to get back. If we pinpoint Baradj, then I’ll be near him. Look for me near Baradj.” She had risen and pressed a button set in the wall. Mike Carter appeared in the doorway.

  “Time to go?” he asked, almost gratefully.

  “I have told him all we know, Mike.”

  “Your boat didn’t wait for you.” Carter looked at Bond.

  “No. No, I have a code sequence with Walmsley. Are you in touch with the ship?”

  “Sure. No speech, just the electronics.”

  “Okay, send this Songbird requests boat to come aboard.

  You should receive a response with the words Tawny Owl in it.

  If they don’t send Tawny Owl, then I guess we’re in for a shooting match.” He rose, and she came around the table to him. For the first time Bond noticed that she was wearing the gold and diamond clasp, shaped like a scutum, that he had given her for Christmas.

  He held her close, and kissed her hair, then her lips. “If you’re going to be near Baradj, you take care, Beatrice, my darling.”

  “You just get those important people off Invincible. Then we’ll go for Baradj together. I want another Christmas with you, James.”