No Deals, Mr. Bond jb-21

by John Gardner

  He lifted the ASP, weighing it carefully to be certain there was a magazine in place. It was something he had practised many times, even in the dark, with empty magazines, blanks and the real thing. Now it was fully loaded.

  ‘There is one way . . .’ Smolin began, then wheeled round as the door smashed open to reveal Ingrid with the three dogs straining at their leashes.

  ‘Ingrid!’ Smolin used his most commanding tone.

  ‘It’s all been very interesting.’ Ingrid’s voice was thin and sharp. ‘I have made certain changes to the interrogation room since you were last here, Colonel – on General Chernov’s orders, naturally. For one thing, the switches for recording have been reversed. The General will be fascinated by the tapes. But we have listened long enough. He will be here soon, and I want you all locked away before he arrives.’

  As though reading each other’s thoughts, Smolin leaped to the left, while Bond rolled out of the chair, moving right.

  Ingrid shrieked in German at the dogs, ‘Wotan, Reckts! Anfassen! Fafie, Links! Anfassen!’

  The dogs sprang, snarling, and as Fafie’s teeth fastened on his gun arm, Bond had a fleeting view of men standing behind Ingrid, and the third dog, Siegi, straining to go in for the kill.

  11

  DOG EAT DOG

  Bond felt a searing pain as Fafie’s jaws fastened on the lower part of his arm, making the fingers of his right hand open involuntarily so that the gun dropped heavily on to the floor. He was aware of Ingrid’s harsh shouting above the snarling of the dogs, Smolin cursing in a mixture of Russian and German and the stale stinking smell of Fafie’s breath on his face. The dog held on, still growling, his head moving from side to side as though he were trying to wrench Bond’s arm from its socket.

  Bond smashed his free hand with full force into the dog’s genitals, as he had been taught. The growl changed into a yelp of pain and for a second the jaws relaxed. Bond used that brief moment to roll and bring his right hand up to the animal’s throat. His thumb and fingers found the windpipe and he pressed as though to tear out the dog’s larynx. His left arm whipped around, catching the beast by the scruff of the neck, but by this time the shock of pain and the dog’s instinct for danger had given Fafie renewed strength. The yelp changed back into a series of chilling snarls and it took all of Bond’s depleted reserves just to hang on. He could feel the deepening pain where Fafie had lacerated his arm, and the growing weakness. But, like the dog, he knew he was fighting for his life. He increased the pressure on the dog’s windpipe.

  He could hear the little leathery instructor from the training school as clearly as during the first of many kill-or-be-killed courses. ‘You never throttle anyone, or anything, like they do in the movies, with both hands. Always use the one-handed choke for good results.’

  Screw in with the hand on the windpipe and use all your strength at the back of the neck with the other arm. He put action to the thought as Fafie threshed around in an attempt to pull clear. For one brief moment, Bond allowed his natural love for animals to creep into his consciousness. But for no more than a second. This was life and death. Fafie wanted his blood.

  ‘Fafie! Anfassen! Anfassen!’ Ingrid shrieked: ‘Fafie! Hold him! Hold him!’

  But Bond had summoned a last surge of strength. His fingers cut through Fafie’s thick fur, pressed harder with his left arm. He could feel the animal begin to lose consciousness. Then suddenly Fafie’s jaws relaxed and the body became a dead weight.

  Bond continued to act as though he were wrestling with the dog, glancing sideways to check where the ASP had fallen. He rolled, grunted and moved, trying to give the impression that Fafie was still fighting him. He felt strangely cool and calculating now, conscious of pain, but determined to get his hands on the automatic, which lay to his right, just within his grasp.

  He looked towards Smolin and saw with horror that he was lying back with Wotan covering him, fangs bared ready to be buried into his victim’s throat if Smolin moved. That one look told Bond that the Colonel could not risk even the twitch of an eyebrow, for Siegi was in reserve, held on a chokechain, and after Siegi the men he had seen crowding in behind Ingrid.

  Bond broke through the barrier of pain screaming from his damaged arm. Using Fafie as his shield, he rolled to the right, reached for the ASP, rolled again and fired two shots at Siegi. He let off another single round as Wotan turned from his captive, and the dog caught the full force of a Glazer slug, knocking him back against the wall. A fourth shot, directed low and towards the door, struck the jamb and carved a great hole through wood and plaster. The men scattered but shock rooted Ingrid to the floor.

  ‘No more!’ Smolin shrieked. He was on his feet now, lunging towards Ingrid. He caught one wrist and jerked her arm down hard, then towards him and away, so the luckless housekeeper hurtled across the room. She fell against the far wall with an unpleasant cracking sound, all the time screaming in rage, frustration and agony. Then she slid silently down the wall and sprawled, a black heap, on the floor.

  Smolin had an automatic in his hand and was shouting towards the shattered doorway, ‘Alex! Yuri! I am your senior officer. KGB have mounted a despicable plot against us. You are with KGB men now. Turn. Turn on them. They are traitors and can only bring discredit and death upon your heads. Turn now!’ For a couple of seconds, silence hung in the passageway, then there was a cry, followed by a shot and the sound of blows. Smolin nodded at Bond, signalling him to take up a position on the right of the door, while he pressed himself against the wall on the opposite side. There was another shot, a shout and the noise of a struggle.

  Then a voice called in Russian, ‘Comrade Colonel, we have them. Quickly, we have them!’

  Smolin nodded towards Bond, and together they threw themselves into the passage. As they jumped Smolin yelled in English.

  ‘Get them all, James! All!’

  Bond needed no second bidding. To his right two men attempted to overpower a third, while another lay unconscious. It required three quick shots from the ASP to dispatch the group. The deadly Glazer slugs did their work, the first exploding in the right side of one of the struggling men and spreading half its load into the stomach of the one grappling with him. The second took out the man on the floor. The final shot did not allow the fourth man time even to know what hit him.

  The noise of the shots was deafening in the narrow passageway; and doubly so as Smolin loosed off two rounds from his automatic. Bond turned to see that he too had scored. The two corpses, one spreadeagled, the other an untidy pile, bore witness to Smolin’s accuracy.

  ‘A pity,’ Smolin muttered, ‘they were good men, Alex and Yuri.’

  ‘There are times when you have no option. You’ve proved yourself now, Maxim. How many are upstairs?’

  ‘Two. I should think they’re with the girls.’

  ‘They’ll be down any minute then.’

  ‘I doubt it. Up there you don’t hear much that goes on in this basement.’ He was breathing hard. ‘We’ve used it many times. Strong men have screamed down here while people in the rooms upstairs have made love and heard nothing.’

  Bond heard Smolin’s words but the world around him began to swim and go out of focus. He was aware of the hot stickiness of his arm and a blinding pain which started at the source of the heat and spread throughout his body. He retched twice, hearing Smolin calling his name from a long way off. Then he lost consciousness.

  He dreamed of snakes and spiders. They slithered and crawled around him as he tried to get out of a dark and twisting maze, ankle deep in the revolting creatures. He had to make it. There would be dim light at the end of the tunnel. Then it would disappear and he was back where he had started, deep in the earth, surrounded by a red glow. There. There it was again, the light at the end, but a large snake was dragging at his legs. He had no sense of fear, just the knowledge that he had to get out. But another snake had joined the first and smaller reptiles wrapped themselves around his legs, pulling him down. Now one of the reptiles h
ad him by the arm, squeezing, sinking fangs into it, causing a pain that broke through the blackness. He looked and a nest of spiders crawled into the wound made by the snake. Other spiders, large, fat and furry were on his face, stuffing themselves into his nostrils and forcing their way into his mouth so that he had to cough, splutter and spit them out. He was gagging on the spiders, but somehow he must have managed to get nearer to the tunnel’s end, for light was hurting his eyes and a voice called his name:

  ‘James! James Bond! James!’

  The snakes and spiders were gone, leaving only a wrenching pain in his arm. A face swam into his vision, the face of a girl. The lips moved.

  ‘James. Come on. It’s okay.’ The face blurred and he heard the voice say, ‘Heather, he’s coming round.’

  ‘Thank heaven for that.’

  Bond’s eyes fluttered, opened and closed, then opened fully and he saw Ebbie Heritage.

  ‘What . . . ?’ he said.

  ‘You’re okay, James. It’s okay now.’

  He moved and was aware of the throbbing in his right arm and that something was constricting it.

  ‘There’s not much time.’ Maxim Smolin was easing Ebbie to one side. ‘You’ll be fine, James, but . . .’ He looked at his wristwatch.

  Everything came flooding back in sharp detail. Smolin straightened up. He stood, looking down at Bond, with one arm around Heather Dare’s shoulders.

  Bond took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. Did I pass out on you?’

  ‘Not surprisingly,’ said Smolin. ‘That damned dog’s teeth went deep. How does it feel?’

  He moved his arm. ‘Numb. It’s uncomfortable but I can use it.’

  ‘Ebbie acted nurse,’ said Heather. ‘We have a lot to thank you for, James. Maxim told us what happened down there.’

  ‘I only cleaned the wound,’ said Ebbie. ‘The dogs were in good condition. I don’t think there’s any danger of poison. We used the strongest antiseptic known to man.’

  ‘And the most expensive.’ Smolin gave a wry smile. ‘The last of the Hine 1914 Vintage. Smooth. Very smooth.’

  Bond groaned. ‘Smooth, magnificent and totally wasted. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It went in a good cause,’ said Smolin. ‘Can you sit up? Stand?’

  Unsteadily, Bond eased himself up. They had lain him on the sofa in the guest suite. He tried to stand, but his legs began to go from under him. He had to cling to one of the sofa arms to steady himself. Ebbie rushed to hold him, her hands strong and experienced.

  ‘Thank you, Ebbie. Thank you for everything.’ He moved carefully, trying out his muscles. Slowly the power returned. ‘Thank you, Ebbie,’ he repeated.

  ‘We’re in your debt. This was nothing.’

  ‘What happened to the others?’ Bond asked Smolin. ‘Your men up here?’

  ‘They’re taken care of.’

  The GRU man’s face went blank, reminding Bond of his own reaction when an unpleasant piece of work had been finished. It was always best to erase that kind of thing from memory. People who recalled too much either started to enjoy it or cracked under the guilt.

  ‘And Ingrid?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s alive; resting. She’s conscious but she won’t be going far. Several bones are broken.’ His tone became urgent. ‘James, we have to get out. You remember Blackfriar? He could arrive any time. We must be away before he lands.’

  ‘Who’s Blackfriar?’ asked Ebbie, startled.

  Smolin’s mouth was set grimly as he said, ‘General Chernov from KGB.’

  Bond nodded. ‘Blackfriar is evil, clever and very good at his work – which he appears to enjoy. I’ll be okay, Maxim.’

  He took several deep breaths and glanced smiling at the girls. Heather appeared to have abandoned her haughty airs and now gazed at Smolin with wide, adoring eyes.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll be okay, James,’ said Smolin acidly. ‘You’re the one who’s been injured but you’ll survive. I’m thinking of the rest of us.’

  ‘The cars are . . . ?’

  ‘Here, yes.’ The Colonel shook his head impatiently. ‘We have cars, James. What you don’t seem to realise is that we’re sitting in a natural bowl overlooked on all sides. To my knowledge there are at least ten men out there with a full armoury. They’re KGB, too. There are four at the main entrance alone. If we start to drive away, they’ll want to know why but I don’t think they’ll stop to question us. The guys up on the hills and at the gates don’t ask questions either. They’re snipers.’

  ‘Dog eat dog, eh?’

  ‘Shoot first. Worry about the questions later.’

  ‘Would they shoot at a prime target?’

  ‘Yes. You, me or the girls. No doubt about that. Blackfriar has been constantly in touch with this place – its real name is Three Sisters Castle incidentally, and it has been used by KGB and GRU for the past ten years. But he’s been on the radio. I’ve had a look at the scratch pads in the Communications Room. Your name and mine have been passed along the line. Blackfriar’s last order is that nobody leaves until he gets in. Anyone who tries has to be stopped.’

  ‘I said prime target,’ Bond repeated. He was gradually starting to feel better, his mental processes becoming sharper. ‘Such as General Konstantin Nikolaevich Chernov. Would they fire at him?’

  ‘You mean we should take him with us? Grab him?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he will not be alone.’

  ‘Well, why not simply use him as cover? How’s he coming in?’

  ‘By helicopter. He’s got plenty of unofficial transport over here – all legal, of course. The Republic’s not the place to play games with illegal transport. But he won’t risk coming in when it gets dark. There are no facilities here for light aircraft once the sun’s gone.’

  ‘He’ll land near the castle?’

  ‘We usually come in directly in line with the main entrance and fly up it. We land out in front, close to where the cars are parked.’

  ‘Who’ll be with him?’

  ‘At least two bodyguards, his adjutant and a skilled interrogator. They’ll be armed. And they’re all highly efficient.’

  Bond’s arm gave a sudden stab of pain, making him wince.

  ‘James, are you all right?’

  Ebbie was at his side, one hand resting on the injured arm, her face troubled. She had the kind of deep blue eyes which he found irresistible and lips that asked to be kissed.

  Bond nodded. ‘It’s just a twinge, nothing serious.’ He reluctantly dragged his eyes from Ebbie and back to Smolin. ‘We’ve got to get out, whatever the risks. It strikes me that they are lessened if we go just as the General arrives. Which is the best car, Maxim?’

  ‘The BMW. It’s a good model to start with, and this one’s been souped up.’

  Bond began to pat his clothes. He asked Smolin for his gun, surreptitiously checking that he still had his other secret equipment. Smolin produced the ASP from the table, together with the spare magazines and the baton. Bond dismantled and reassembled the weapon. Then he asked, ‘We’re agreed, then? We make a run for it as soon as the chopper appears?’

  The others nodded, but Smolin did not look altogether happy.

  ‘Maxim?’

  ‘Yes. The only other way would be to go now and risk their full firepower. I’d be happier if we’d had the time to take them out.’

  ‘Are you going to arm the girls?’

  ‘He already has.’ Heather had certainly become more confident and professional. Bond made a mental note to ask her why she had offered herself to him so blatantly at the Airport Hotel – but that was not a question he could put to her in front of Smolin.

  He now asked, ‘Do you have the BMW’s keys?’

  Smolin nodded.

  ‘Then what are we waiting for? We should get down to the main doors. Maxim, why don’t you walk out to the car? That would be natural enough. Play around with it and give us a yell as soon as the chopper appears.’

  As they went down the stairs, the c
astle seemed cold and cheerless. Outside there was still plenty of light, although the sky was starting to redden in the west, but the flagstoned hall retained an almost ghostly chill.

  ‘It’s going to be a lovely sunset,’ said Bond smiling cheerfully, mainly to keep the girls in good spirits. He knew from Smolin’s face that escape from this place was not going to be easy. At the door he asked Maxim how they should place themselves when they reached the BMW.

  ‘Is it all right if Heather comes in front with me? You, James, go in the back with Ebbie. We should all keep down as low as possible.’

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ said Ebbie, grinning happily at Bond.

  ‘We should open all the windows,’ he said, ‘in case we have to return fire.’

  ‘Right,’ said Smolin with a curt nod. ‘I think that would be most wise.’

  ‘Can I have a private word with you, Maxim,’ asked Bond, taking Smolin’s arm and pulling him to one side. ‘If we do get clear, where should we head for?’

  ‘Out of this country, for a start. But there’s no hiding place from Chernov – not in the long run.’

  ‘Have you any idea where Jungle and your colleague Susanne might be?’

  ‘Do you know where they were last sighted?’

  ‘Yes, and you?’

  ‘In the Canary Islands.’

  ‘That’s what I heard, but I should think it’s old news by now.’

  ‘It was a week old when M gave it to you. I think they’ll have moved on, but once we’re clear I’ll have burned my boats. That means we’ll get no help from my people . . .’

  ‘And very little from mine, if we’re sticking to M’s rules.’

  ‘Chernov will expect us to head for Dublin, Shannon or one of the ports – Rosslare or Dun Laoghaire.’

  ‘We’ll have to do that if we’re going to get out.’

  Smolin gave him a fast sideways glance. ‘Not necessarily. I still have some contacts we can use. So do you, in fact. But I could get us out quietly.’

  It was Bond’s turn to look anxious. ‘I can’t go into the North, you do know that? It’s off-limits to my department; strictly MI5 territory. I would really be persona non grata if I turned up there. “Five” are very touchy about it.’