Franks glanced at his notes again. ‘The two subjects are, first a Caucasian male about your age, Captain Bond, carrying what appears from the information we have managed to get from the UK, his own British passport. He is known to us and has worked in the Far East for various countries. His allegiance now seems to be to the People’s Republic of China. His name is Peter Argentbright, which proves that all that glisters is not silver, and he was born the son of a perfectly respectable doctor and his wife, now deceased, and brought up in his place of birth, Lymington, in the county of Hampshire, England.
‘The woman is, like yourself, Miss Chi-Ho, in her late twenties. Her name is given as Jenny Mo and she is travelling under United States papers, which, though good, we believe to be forgeries. Their immediate superior is a General Hung Chow H’ang. We know of him, do we not, sir?’ glancing towards M.
‘Indeed we do.’ M dropped his voice. ‘Hung Chow H’ang is general officer in charge of illegals and works out of the former French Embassy, on Tai ji chang Street, east of Tien-an-Men Square. It’s in the old Legation Quarter. There is, and I am speaking from memory, an ornate high red gate with a pair of stone lions. The buildings are pleasant enough and until quite recently it was believed they were used to house special guests of the Party. In 1986 we discovered, through one of our few Chinese defectors, that the former French Embassy is, in fact, one of the main training and organisational houses of CELD. Hung Chow H’ang is an old Party man, skilful, cunning and very good at his job. Lost an eye in the battles around Peking in ’48, or ’49.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Franks stopped, looked down and then up again, straight at Bond and Chi-Chi. ‘I understand that you are both aware that the man Lee set the conditions for meeting the couriers.’
‘A kind of treasure hunt, yes,’ Bond answered for them both.
‘Indeed, a kind of treasure hunt to establish the couriers’ bona fides. There is a telephone number here in San Francisco that you have to call on arrival in New York, and a set form of identification . . .’
‘Followed by a merry dance, I should imagine.’ As he spoke, Bond realised he was being too flippant.
‘A very merry dance, Captain Bond.’ Franks was tightlipped, his eyes narrow and his look one of bleakness. ‘I have no doubt that the quest for Brokenclaw Lee will be an arduous one and you will both be tested to the full. We can supply you with all you need to begin the jig. The end, however, might prove more than you bargained for. You see General Hung Chow H’ang’s orders are specific. When the Lords and Lords Day information is in your hands, you are required to hand over five million dollars to Brokenclaw. Now, we can arrange that. It’s no problem, but our China Desk has had a hint that something else may be going down with Brokenclaw and it’s possible only one of you will be allowed to leave. This in turn means that one of you is going to be in greater danger, because there are also hints that a third person is making the trip from China. Any scruples about that, Captain Bond, Miss Chi-Ho?’
Neither of them could afford scruples. They were both already committed, so Franks dismissed Chi-Chi and spent a further hour talking to Bond. ‘There are things only one of you should know at this stage,’ he began, and as he talked, Bond became more concerned about the outcome of the operation which appeared to be loaded with traps and unspeakable dangers.
8
ABELARD AND HÉLOÏSE
It took almost exactly twenty-four hours from the moment Franks stopped speaking for the process to be completed. Bond, Rushia and Chi-Chi were first shown into the operating room, where the two sleeping couriers were laid out on tables, both covered only with hospital gowns. While neither Bond nor Chi-Chi bore any facial resemblance to Peter Argentbright and Jenny Mo, there were some physical similarities. Argentbright and Bond were roughly the same height and build, while Jenny Mo, though a little taller than Chi-Chi, had the same delicate bone structure and their hair was almost identical.
They were taken back into one of the other hospital rooms and the two principals were handed over to the Scrivener, Brian Cogger, who began by taking their photographs, noting down identifying marks, hair and eye colour, complexion and all the other bits and pieces required for official documentation.
Leaving the Scrivener to get on with his work, they rejoined Ed Rushia and settled down to a lengthy briefing with Bill Tanner, the Grand Inquisitor, Franks, Bill Orr and M, plus two of their American counterparts. This took the bulk of their time, starting with a digest of all known facts concerning Peter Argentbright and Jenny Mo. The minutiae on Argentbright was comprehensive, for, as M put it, ‘He’s been on our books for some time now.’ The details regarding Jenny Mo were more sketchy. ‘When I talked to you first, we were under the impression that her papers consisted of good forgeries. I was wrong; the details have been run through the magic machines, and the passport, social security and other stuff appears to be genuine,’ Franks told them. ‘However, I’d best let Mr Grant, here – our adviser from Langley – make some comments.’
Grant was a soft-spoken young man with a thin moustache which gave him a wimpish look, but was not really meant to fool anybody. He was as sharp as a sliver of glass and wasted no time on any preamble.
‘There is the possibility, of course, that the young woman we have in the other room, might not be the real Jenny Mo. But if she is, she was born a US citizen and seems to have lived and worked in New York until a couple of years ago, then she turned up in the San Francisco area. There is evidence that she is a whizz with figures and dealt with various club and restaurant accounts which, in some cases, have traces of Brokenclaw Lee’s ownership. I have people checking on all of this, because if she is genuine it is quite possible that you’ll come up against people who knew her here, and none of us consider this an amusing prospect. Make no mistake about it, Lee is totally ruthless. If she is the real Jenny Mo, you’ll be blown in about ten seconds flat.’
‘Yes, that could make things a trifle risky,’ Bond understated. ‘Might I ask if we’re to carry any protection?’
‘Depends on what instructions you get.’ M was in his most uncompromising play-it-by-the-book mode. He turned to Grant, “How long will your teams take to whittle down the possibilities?’
‘On whether Jenny Mo is Jenny Mo? Difficult to say. Twenty-four hours probably.’
‘Then it could be too late.’ M looked towards his Chief of Staff. ‘You’re running this operation, Tanner. What’s our deadline on Captain Bond and Ms Chi-Ho?’
‘I want them apparently coming off JAL 06 at Kennedy tomorrow night, sir, which means eleven thirty Eastern time, eight thirty to us. It’s not safe to leave it any later than that.’
‘Do we maintain contact with Commander Rushia?’
‘We’re working on some kind of link, sir, but it could be tenuous. Q Branch’ve provided homers for James and Ms Chi-Ho, with a receiving unit for Commander Rushia. We have to work out details of direct contact between Rushia and us.’ He paused, his brow furrowed. ‘I’d really like some kind of doomsday link between James and/or Chi-Chi and Rushia as well.’
‘See that girl – what’s-her-name? The one the Armourer sent over.’
Bill Tanner suppressed a smile, knowing that M always put on his crusty act where Ann Reilly was concerned. In fact they all knew that he had a very tender spot for the girl. ‘I’ll see to it now, sir.’ He excused himself and hurried away to wheel and deal with Q’ute.