Chi-Chi screamed.
She did not stop screaming until Bond put his arms around her and told her it was okay. ‘It’s over,’ he kept saying. ‘It’s all over.’
‘No it’s not.’ Bill Tanner stood in the doorway.
‘Get something to cover the girl, Bill,’ Bond said quietly, and a second later, Ed Rushia was in the room with a blanket over one arm and his eyes averted.
Bond draped the blanket around Chi-Chi’s shaking body. ‘Just stay here,’ he told her. ‘It’s going to be fine. Look, Ed’s by the door. Nobody’s coming to get you.’
‘Please don’t leave me, James. Please!’
‘Only for a moment.’ Gently he untangled himself and went into the corridor. ‘What’s up?’ he asked Tanner.
‘Come and take a look.’
They went further down the narrow passage, past the barred rooms from which the original hostages were being taken, and then up steps and out into the waning day.
‘He’s not here.’ Tanner’s voice was dull with disappointment.
‘Lee?’
Tanner nodded.
‘General H’ang?’ Bond asked, and the chief of staff shook his head.
‘Both of them. They’re both gone.’
‘They can’t have got far.’ They had started to walk back towards the house.
‘We think he had another helicopter stashed away at this end,’ Tanner said dryly. ‘There’s a small wood to the north, and they’re going up now to see if it’s like the other hangar. Two of the Special Forces people say they thought another chopper took off in the middle of the whole business. We’ve alerted the FAA and all the radar stations. They’ve got aircraft up looking. Fighters were scrambled from Alameda. So far, no joy.’
A figure was approaching from the southern side of the house, and Bond recognised Broderick, the San Francisco FBI Bureau Chief.
‘I understand I’ve an apology to make, Captain Bond,’ Broderick began.
‘No, no time for that.’ Another thought had raced through Bond’s mind. ‘Anyone know of a house in Sausalito where Lee might have stashed Wanda? Because that’s where she is.’
‘There’s a cathouse out there that we’ve often thought had links with Brokenclaw.’ Broderick reached for his pager. ‘I’ll get someone on to it now. Nolan and Wood aren’t busy . . .’
‘Oh, no,’ said Bond, quietly. ‘I think you’re going to need a man to man talk with Messrs Nolan and Wood. A man to man talk in an interrogation room.’
He was about to tell the FBI officer all he knew about his agents Wood and Nolan, when a youngish, thin man with long hair shambled up to them in the fast dimming light. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with a colourful decoration of a skull frozen into a block of ice, underneath which the words ‘Ice Age’ were displayed in a Gothic script.
‘Hey, man,’ the newcomer began. ‘Hey, that was some real heavy music you were playing just now. Real heavy.’
Both Tanner and Broderick looked aghast. ‘I think this is the owner of the main house, gentlemen.’ Bond inclined his head towards the figure. ‘Mr Marty Halman of Ice Age?’
‘Yeah. Man that music was heavy. Awesome.’
Bond smiled. ‘Thank you. We thought it was kind of humongously awesome ourselves.’
17
NEW DAYS, NEW WAYS, LOVE STAYS
The military unit left twenty men to comb the tunnels, passageways and the grounds around Brokenclaw’s hideout.
Everyone else was loaded into helicopters and ferried back to the carrier where they waited for news. At around nine thirty on that Friday evening, Broderick, the local FBI Bureau chief, went off to Sausalito with some local members of the Marin County Sheriff’s Department. They found Wanda Man Song Hing in a sprawling house tucked away behind the boutiques, cafés, shops and art galleries of Bridgeway, the main street which led down to the waterfront with its magnificent view of the San Francisco skyline.
They arrested ten other young girls, four brawny men who were obviously there to protect the place, Mama Tia, the Madame of this particular moneyspinner, and several clients, some of whom had reputations to lose.
In a further development, agents Nolan and Wood were suspended from duty pending serious allegations against them. Only later did Broderick wish he had pushed for their arrest and incarceration.
Wanda was moved immediately to the Naval hospital. She was in shock, had been badly beaten, but, according to the doctors, would soon recover her physical strength. They would not vouch for her mental state until they had time to evaluate her.
Both Chi-Chi and Bond were taken down to the ship’s hospital, where Chi-Chi’s back was treated for the deep welts made by Brokenclaw’s whip, and Bond was X-rayed. Though bruised he had no broken bones. ‘I would suggest you take a shower, Captain Bond,’ the doctor said. ‘To be blunt, you stink like a skunk.’ The animal fat Brokenclaw had spread around his loins was still active. ‘You need rest,’ the doctor added, and he was given a stateroom near the hospital area.
They had brought all his clothes and travelling equipment to the carrier, so he showered, first in scalding water, rubbing himself down with Clinique soap, which he had only recently discovered, and now preferred to anything he had ever used before. Next he showered again, this time in cold water, allowing the sharp needlepoints of the spray to wash away any excess oil in his opened pores. He towelled himself dry, and splashed Penhaligon’s cologne over his body. Only then did he realise how exhausted he had become. He slept until a steward brought him coffee at ten the next morning.
Half-an-hour later Bill Tanner came down with the ASP 9mm. ‘They found it among some other weapons in the bunker. You okay now?’
‘They must have salvaged it from the helicopter wreck, Bill. Yes, I’m fine. How’s Chi-Chi?’
‘Walking wounded, but you’re both expected up in M’s cabin for a conference in an hour.’
Bond hefted the pistol in his hand. ‘You get me some shells for this thing?’ he asked.
Tanner said he would try and, in fact, handed over a small box of ammunition when Bond arrived at the day cabin that M had used throughout as his headquarters.
The Curve operations team was all present – M, Franks, the CIA man, John Grant with a couple of his men, the officer commanding the Special Forces unit, Commander Edwin Rushia, Chi-Chi and Bond.
M outlined the situation by congratulating all who had taken part in the tracking down, penetrating and assaulting what he called Brokenclaw’s burrow. Then he gave them what he called a Profit and Loss balance sheet.
‘On the profit side, we have managed to break up a complex and sophisticated hideout, which the man Brokenclaw Lee has undoubtedly used for a long time,’ he began. ‘Also on the profit side a very serious operation has been stopped in its tracks. Both my own Service and the CIA have long been aware that the Chinese, following sight of a similar plan which appears to have been formulated by Japanese businessmen, have been coordinating an operation which we all knew as Jericho. Its aim was to bring down Wall Street by hacking into the Stock Exchange computers, buying, selling, altering prices surreptitiously.
‘Nobody realised how advanced this particular piece of skulduggery had become, and after seeing the amount of computerised detail hidden in Brokenclaw’s vaults, it would appear that we put a stop to the business just in time. I should add that the ladies and gentlemen of Wall Street and the London Stock Exchange have, at our instigation, taken new security steps which will, eventually, prevent anyone from tampering with the system. We all know that while computers have made our lives easier and can provide instant access to information, they are also a danger, particularly when operated by skilled people who are able to interfere with information stored in corporate data bases. Computer fraud could lead to terrible financial chaos.’