Hedy almost laughed and averted her eyes.
Bond continued. “After convincing the Piel woman that I was Glyn, I went to the place they call the compound and found H—uhm, Miss Taunt. Since Peredur Glyn was reputed to be some kind of homicidal maniac, we concocted a rather unique plan to get her out. I went to the slaughterhouse to fetch a bucket of blood—animal blood.”
He neglected to say that he had also found Heidi Taunt there. She was bleeding badly from the bullet wound in her shoulder and was drifting in and out of consciousness. Bond had administered first aid as best as he could, then told her to sit tight and that he would be back with her sister.
“I took the bucket of blood back to the compound and we staged Miss Taunt’s death. The Piel woman ordered me to get rid of the body, as I suspected she would, so I carried Miss Taunt out of the compound and went straight to the slaughterhouse.”
Again, he left out the sequence in which he and Hedy helped Heidi out of the slaughterhouse and into one of the Land Rovers that was parked outside.
“We were lucky that almost the entire staff had gone with Espada. The guards at the front gate were dead. We quickly made a plan. Miss Taunt drove to Marbella and I went back to the house to see the Piel woman.”
Hedy took over the narrative. “I got on the phone to Washington and London. It took some doing, but I finally convinced Double-O Seven’s chief to allow us to go ahead with the plan.” This was, of course, after Heidi’s bullet had been removed and she had received a blood transfusion, but Hedy didn’t mention that. Heidi had insisted on coming along to the Convent, disguised in the veil.
“I must say, it sounded terribly risky to me,” the PM said.
“M wasn’t happy about it,” 001 concurred.
“But,” the PM conceded, “it was perhaps the only way we could avoid any further bloodshed. I agreed to go along with it. So did the Governor. We got word to the aide-de-camp here just in time.”
The Spanish PM asked, “What would you have done if Mr. Bond’s true identity had been discovered?”
No one had an answer to that.
“I’m afraid Señor Espada might have got his way,” the Governor said. “By the way, what’s happened to his army?”
“When they heard that Espada was dead, they dispersed,” the Spanish PM said. “Our forces arrived after the King decided that he had had enough of Domingo Espada. He wasn’t about to let our country go to war with Great Britain.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the British PM said.
“We have sent a special task force to Espada’s estate. The girls being held captive there will be freed and given financial and housing assistance. We will do our best to find them suitable and legal employment. As for Gibraltar …”
The Spanish PM looked hard at the British PM and then smiled, saying, “We will discuss the matter another time.”
The two Prime Ministers stood and shook hands as the Governor of Gibraltar looked on.
Bond rubbed his eyes. The bloody headache was taking control once again. It had been threatening to do so all morning. Agent 001 looked at him and said, “Come on, Bond. We have to go to hospital. Someone is waiting for you there.”
“What’s going to happen to that Arab guy?” Hedy asked. “Yassasin.”
“We’re going to interrogate the bloody hell out of him,” 001 answered. “We want to find out as much as we can about the Union. They’ve gone too far this time. SIS have declared an all-out war against them.”
“Well, when you’re done, just make sure you lock him up and throw away the key,” Hedy said.
“You can be sure of that,” 001 replied.
The two PMs and the Governor turned to Bond as he stood. “Thank you,” the Governor said. “For everything.”
Bond smiled, nodded, and shook their hands without saying a word. He felt curiously numb now that the crisis was over. He quietly allowed his colleague to lead him out of the room as Hedy followed close behind.
TWENTY - SIX
AFTERMATH
“SIR JAMES MOLONY IS HERE,” MISS MONEYPENNY ANNOUNCED ON THE intercom.
M pushed the button for the green light as Bill Tanner continued his report.
“The FBI in America picked up the plastic surgeon, Dr. Morelius, in California. Unfortunately, he never actually broke the law. He was paid by the Union to perform a legitimate service. The FBI had to let him go.”
“But he’s insignificant in the grand scheme of things,” M replied.
Tanner nodded. “The director of the FBI assured me that the doctor had the living daylights scared out of him. He’s being placed in their Witness Protection Program. Hopefully he will identify his employers, and if he’s lucky he can have a legitimate practice in another state.”
Sir James Molony opened the door and entered. M remained seated and said, “Good morning, Sir James. Please sit down. How was your flight from Gibraltar?”
“Fine, thank you,” Molony replied, sitting across from her. Tanner pulled up a chair after offering the staff neurologist a coffee.
“I appreciate you cutting short your lecture tour to attend to Double-O Seven,” M said.
“Believe me, madam, it was a blessing in disguise,” the doctor answered. “I can’t tell you how bored I was after two months of talking to young people all over the world who had no interest at all in what I was saying. I was quite ready for something to interrupt it.”
“How’s James doing?” Tanner asked.
“He’s doing quite well. The operation was a complete success. He should be feeling himself by now. We discharged him from hospital yesterday and he’s recuperating at the hotel there. I expect that he’ll fly back home in a day or two.”
“Tell us exactly what was wrong with him,” M prodded.
Molony sipped his coffee and placed it on the edge of the large glass-topped desk.
“As you know, Double-O Seven had a lesion on his temporal lobe. This was probably caused by the injury he sustained in the Himalayas three months ago. It was the source of his headaches, as well as what I would clinically diagnose as panic attacks. Dr. Feare, may her soul rest in peace, had originally detected the lesion with an EEG and prescribed a medication, carbamazepine, which might have cured him without the need for surgery. However, when I examined the pills he had been taking, I discovered that he had the wrong pills. They had been disguised as the correct ones. He was taking haloperidol, which is often used as a treatment for a number of psychoses. But if used improperly, it can make some conditions worse. As a result, Bond suffered from post-traumatic epilepsy. He would hallucinate, have delusions of paranoia, and even experience poriomania, or blackouts. This sometimes happens with hard-case alcoholics. They’ll pass out somewhere and wake up in a completely different location. How they get from one place to the next is a mystery to them. The same thing happened to Double-O Seven. More than once. I’m still trying to determine how he got the wrong medication in the first place. Dr. Feare’s prescription was correct.”
“I think Mr. Tanner can answer that one,” M said.
Tanner cleared his throat and said, “Sir James, I’m afraid I have to inform you that one of your employees is a traitor. Double-O Seven alerted us to the fact that Michael Clayton, one of the Union members he first encountered in London, had a cousin who was also well connected with the organization. After we further investigated the man’s background, we determined that he did indeed have a cousin—Deborah Reilly.”
Molony’s eyes bulged. “Good Lord, that’s my nurse!”
“I’m afraid so,” Tanner said. “MI5 arrested her yesterday. She was pretty tight-lipped until we confronted her with all manner of evidence. She confessed to switching Bond’s medication, even disguising it as the proper pills. We believe she was instrumental in setting up Double-O Seven for Dr. Feare’s murder.”