“Virtual dinners, I love them,” Bond said. “Low on calories.”
Margareta stepped closer to him and took his chin in her hands. “You won’t be making jokes too much longer, Mr. Bond. This is the end of the line. I’m sure you’ve been traced here, which is exactly what we want. You’ve walked right into the trap. It won’t be long before your people in London know that you’re at Domingo Espada’s home.”
“So?”
Margareta smiled. “In time you will know all.…” With that, she leaned over and kissed him hard on the mouth. He let her do it, but he didn’t reciprocate at all. When she was done, she licked her lips and said, “Mmm, not bad, Mr. Bond. You taste … like fresh meat.”
She turned to go. The driver held open the door for her.
“Don’t try to escape. You’re heavily guarded. I’ll be back after dinner,” she said. “Enjoy the show.”
With that, she left. The driver slammed the door shut and Bond heard the locks turn.
Heidi and Hedy pulled over about a mile away from Espada’s ranch.
“He’s there, no doubt about that,” Heidi said. “What do we do now?”
“I wish we knew if he went willingly or not.” Hedy thought for a moment. “Should we call for backup?”
“Who’s gonna come?” Heidi asked. “Our operatives are in Madrid, Barcelona, and Seville. By the time anyone gets here, the show, whatever it is, will be over.”
“You’re right.” Hedy opened the glove compartment and removed a pair of binoculars. She got out of the car, adjusted the glasses for infrared vision, and put them to her eyes. She had a fairly good view of the entire estate, save for a portion of the main house that was blocked by the large annex.
“I see some men at the gate,” she said. “I don’t see the minivan. It might be behind that barn.” She scanned the buildings and then said, “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I see him,” Hedy said. “It’s James. He’s walking from that other building to the main house. Look.” She handed the glasses to Heidi.
Sure enough, James Bond was entering the front door, accompanied by other men and the Spanish woman.
“Goddamn him!” Heidi said. “Do you think he really is in cahoots with Espada? He walked in there like he owned the place! And that woman! Who the hell is she?”
“Heidi, I think he fooled us.”
Heidi looked as if she might cry.
Hedy took back the binoculars. “I wonder if there’s another way around. You know, an approach from the back.”
Heidi peered at the road ahead and pointed. “Look,” she said.
“There’s some kind of trail there. See? It leads down to that valley. You think maybe there’s another trail that leads up and around?”
“I don’t think the car will make it. I’ll have to go on foot. Let’s split up.”
“Why you? I should go.”
“No, I’ll go.”
“Let’s flip for it.”
“Forget it, Heidi, I’m going!”
“Well, what’s our plan?” Heidi asked. “We gotta have a plan.”
“I’m making it up as we go along,” Hedy said. “You stay here. Is your communicator still working?”
“Of course.”
“If you see anyone come out of the house, let me know.” She handed the binoculars to her. “If you get into trouble, just press the panic button. I’ll do the same thing. Either way, we come running, all right?”
“How the hell will I know where you are?”
“I’ll scream,” Hedy said, shrugging. “If nothing happens, let’s meet back here at midnight. If he’s not out by then, we’ll call London.”
“Okay,” Heidi said hesitantly.
Hedy checked her weapon and ammunition, and gave her sister a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Before Heidi could respond, Hedy had set off down the road toward the trail.
The pain in James Bond’s head had increased tenfold since he had been tied to the chair, exacerbated by the recent blow. He had to force himself to concentrate on his surroundings and search for a way out of his predicament. The bindings were terribly tight, but he could scoot the chair across the floor if he wanted to. That wouldn’t do much good, unfortunately. Perhaps it was best to let them play out the game. They had some kind of a plan in mind, and he was part of it. He couldn’t intelligently plot a course of action without knowing what it was.
Something started happening on the TV monitor. Margareta Piel entered the picture, accompanied by a tall, black man in a fez. They sat at the table as Espada’s voice boomed out of the speakers.
“Sit, sit,” he said. “We have some wonderful paella tonight.”
Espada and another man, a bit older, entered the frame and sat at the head of the table. “Wonderful corrida in Málaga, although it was unfortunate about Javier.” He shook his head and made a “tsk tsk” sound. “I am sorry to lose him.”
Bond couldn’t help but catch the glance that Margareta gave the Moroccan.
“So, Nadir, are we on schedule?” Espada asked him.
“Yes, Domingo, everything is prepared. Jimmy Powers is in Gibraltar and was successful in planting the weapons in the chapel. We will leave here tonight after dinner. I suggest that you leave only a skeleton force here, for we will need every competent man with us,” the man called Nadir said.
“I was planning on it. Now, what about the assassin?”
Margareta spoke up. “He should be here any minute. He had to change clothes and wash. Oh … here he is now.”
Espada stood and looked toward the camera. A man entered the frame, his back to Bond.
“Domingo Espada, I’d like you to meet James Bond, formerly with Her Majesty’s Secret Service in Great Britain.”
Bond’s jaw dropped when the man turned to reveal his profile and shake hands with Espada.
“Welcome, Mr. Bond,” Espada said. “I have heard great things about you. Despite my hatred for your homeland, I welcome you here.” He gestured to the other man at the table. “This is Agustin, my mozo de espadas. ”
“Thank you, sir, I’ve already met Agustin,” the imposter said. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”
My God! The man was an exact replica of him! He hadn’t been imagining a double at all … there really was one! How had they done this? The man didn’t completely sound like him, Bond thought. The speech was a little off … in fact, the accent was Welsh. People close to Bond might detect the slight differences in inflection, but for all intents and purposes, the man on the television was James Bond.
Beads of sweat began to form on Bond’s forehead. He knew that the science of plastic surgery had advanced by leaps and bounds in the last few years. The best in the field could literally do anything short of cloning a person. That was what they must have done. But … why? Just to frame him? To set him up as a criminal? Surely London would see through such a ploy.…
A servant girl poured wine, and then the paella was served. As a first course they had tortilla de patatas, an omelette made from potatoes. Bond felt his stomach rumble as he watched them eat.
“So, Mr. Bond, what are your feelings about what we are about to do tomorrow?” Espada asked, picking up a crawfish with his hands and biting into it with a crunch.
The look-alike made an offhand gesture that Bond instantly recognized as his own way of dismissing an idea. The man, whoever he was, had done his homework.
“I have felt for years that my country has been extremely selfish with Gibraltar,” the pseudo-Bond said. “I am half Scottish, so I can sympathize with anyone who takes issue with who runs their government, who owns their land, and what constitutes a fair treaty.”