The slide changed to an exterior shot of the Fleet warehouse.
“Shortly after twenty-one hundred hours last night, someone infiltrated the lab in Fleet. The entire facility was burned to the ground. Records were destroyed and there was virtually nothing salvageable. We did unfortunately find the remains of Dr. Wood, who had been shot in the leg and in the head. All traces of Skin 17, the specification he created, have disappeared. The thieves were also successful in stealing backup copies of previous versions of the formula that were kept at the DERA facility in Farnborough, indicating that, I’m sorry to say, a DERA employee may have been involved in the crime. Unfortunately there are no other copies of this important work, which represents two years of intensive research and development. Needless to say, it is vital that no copies of the Skin 17 specification fall into the wrong hands.”
Tanner had inched along the wall and was now standing next to Bond’s seat.
“I assume this was the project you were referring to yesterday,” Bond whispered.
Tanner whispered back, “Uh-huh.”
The slide changed to a picture of Steven Harding.
“This is Dr. Steven Harding, who was serving as Dr. Wood’s right-hand man. The rest of his team have been summoned back from various parts of the country and are here in this room. Dr. Wood had given them the day off yesterday because he wanted to make the final tests on the scalable prototype alone. We know that Wood left instructions for Dr. Harding to come to the lab at nine o’clock last night. Whether or not he did this is unknown, but we find it disturbing that Dr. Harding is missing. He is simply nowhere to be found.”
Bond whispered to Tanner, “Christ, we just played golf with him yesterday!”
“I know,” Tanner replied. “This is all very bizarre.”
Mr. Drake said, “I’d like to call to the stand Group Captain Roland Marquis, who was the RAF liaison to the ‘Smart Skin’ project.”
Marquis stood up and stiffly walked to the front of the room. “Before I field questions,” he said, “I want to say that I am extremely proud of the work Dr. Wood and his team did on this project. Great Britain has lost a national treasure in him. Now, Minister, M, distinguished colleagues, I am at your disposal.”
The Minister spoke first. “Group Captain, we understand that you saw Dr. Harding yesterday.”
“Yes, sir,” Marquis replied. “I played golf with him at Stoke Poges. It was around seventeen hundred hours when we said good-bye and parted company,”
“Did he indicate to you what his plans were?”
“No, sir, I knew that Dr. Wood had given the team the day off, and that he was close to finishing Skin 17. Dr. Harding was quite eager to hear news from Dr. Wood. He made at least two phone calls from the club to find out what was going on. I knew that Dr. Harding would be visiting the lab later that evening, that is, last night. Other than that, he didn’t say much. He’s a professional and would never talk about the work outside the DERA complex, even with me.”
M asked, “How well do you know this Dr. Harding?”
“Not very well. I got to know him over the last two years during the normal day-to-day administrative work I did in supervising Skin 17. One day we discovered a mutual interest in golf. That’s all. Yesterday was the third time we had played together.”
“How close to the project were you?” she asked.
“I had no idea what they were actually doing, technically. I mean, I knew what their goal was and I knew generally how they were going about it. But I’m no physicist, ma’am. My job was to control the budget, make sure they had what they needed, and make monthly reports to my superiors in the RAF.”
“And you have no idea where Dr. Harding is now?”
“None, ma’am.”
“Do you think he is capable of doing something like this?”
Marquis paused a moment before answering. Finally, he said, “I don’t think so, ma’am. Dr. Harding always struck me as an introvert, a quiet type with a high intellect. I never once saw him get angry. I can’t imagine that he’d have a violent bone in his body, much less be a traitor to his country. He has no criminal record. I know that stranger things have happened in our government’s history with regard to spies and counterspies. Nevertheless, it is my opinion that Dr. Harding may have come to an untimely end, along with Dr. Wood.”
After a moment’s silence. Bond raised his hand. Marquis raised his eyebrows when he saw who it was. “Yes, uhm, Mr. Bond?”
“Have there been any communications at all claiming responsibility for this act?”
“No, not yet.”
“In your opinion, do you think it’s the work of a foreign power?”
“At this point, I’m not ruling out anything. MI5 is handling the investigation. However, as you will see in your briefing packet, there is a copy of a fax that was received at the DERA Fleet facility exactly nine and half months ago. Dr. Wood had shown it to me, thinking it was some kind of prank. I kept the note since the fax number at the facility had always been classified. Can we show that slide, please?”
The slide on the wall changed again to reveal a blurry copy of a faxed piece of paper. There was no mistaking the wording, however.
GOOD LUCK WITH THE SKIN PROJECT WE ARE VERY INTERESTED IN YOUR PROGRESS.
THE UNION
Bond felt a chill slither down his spine.
Marquis continued. “I don’t know a lot about this Union, but I was briefed this morning on the group’s recent activities. It sounds to me like the kind of job they would pull off. Any other questions?”
When there were none, M stood up. “Thank you, Group Captain. We’ll start the debriefing with you and the rest of Dr. Woods team after lunch.”
Bond stepped into M’s office to find her alone with Bill Tanner.
“Come in, Double-O Seven,” she said. “Sit down.”
He sat across from the woman whom he had grown to admire more and more during the past two years. There had been a considerable amount of friction between them when she first took over MI6, but now they had mutual respect. Bond had especially proved his value to her during her personal crisis during the Decada affair a year earlier.
“I understand you and the Chief of Staff played golf with Group Captain Marquis and Dr. Harding yesterday,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I want to hear what you think.”
Bond shrugged. “I’m just as puzzled as anyone. I agree with Marquis’s assessment of Harding—that he really didn’t seem the type to do something like this. My suspicions would be directed more toward Marquis.”
M’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Why?”
“Because he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”
Bond’s outspokenness didn’t faze her. “I know all about your history together,” she said. “Please don’t carry schoolboy, prejudices into this, Double-O Seven.”
“Nevertheless, ma’am,” Bond said, “I don’t think too highly of him.”
“Group Captain Marquis is a distinguished officer and a national hero of sorts. You’re aware of his mountaineering achievements?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re absolutely right, I’m allowing my personal feelings about the man to influence my opinion of him. And my opinion is that he is an ass.”
“Your opinion is noted,” M said, “but I’m afraid you’ll need more than professional jealousy as evidence of Group Captain Marquis’s guilt.”
That stung.
She nodded to Tanner. He handed an eight-by-ten glossy black-and-white photograph to Bond. It was taken by a security camera and revealed a fuzzy shot of Steven Harding in a line of people. He was carrying an attaché case and a travel bag.
“We just got this,” Tanner said. “It was taken last night around ten-thirty by one of the customs security cameras at Waterloo Station—at the Eurostar terminal. Dr. Steven Harding boarded the last train to Brussels.”