‘I’d put my money on it being Kolya,’ Bond replied lightly.’ The KGB asked us in, after all. The KGB came to us – to the USA, Israel and the UK. I suppose it’s possible they’ve found more than a simple arms leak to the National Socialist Action Army. That may be part of it, but what if there’s more? Something hideous?’
Rivke shifted her chair closer to the end of the bed where Bond sat. ‘You mean if they’ve found themselves with an arms leak, and some other funny business that’s going to look very bad? Something they can’t contain?’
‘It’s a theory. Plausible enough.’ She was so close that Bond could smell her: the traces of her scent, plus the natural odour of an attractive woman. ‘Only a theory,’ he repeated. ‘But it’s possible. This is all out of character for the KGB. They’re usually so closed up. Now they come and ask for help. Could they be pulling us in? Having us for suckers? So that, when the truth – whatever it is – comes spewing out, we’ll be implicated. Israel, America and Britain will all take the blame. It’s devious enough for them.’
‘Fall guys.’ Rivke spoke softly again.
‘Yes. Fall guys.’ Bond wondered what his old and ultraconservative-minded chief would make of the expression. M hated slang in any form.
Rivke said if there was even a possibility of a KGB plot to discredit them, it would be wise to make a pact now to stick together. ‘We really do have to watch each other’s backs, even if the theory doesn’t hold.’
Bond gave Rivke his most charming smile, leaning close, his lips only inches from her mouth. ‘You’re quite right, Rivke. Though I’d be much happier watching your front.’
Her lips, in return, seemed to be examining his mouth. Then: ‘I don’t frighten easily, James, but this has got me twitchy . . .’ Her arms came up, winding around his neck, and their lips brushed, first in a light caress. Bond’s conscience nagged at him to take care. But the warnings were cauterised in the conflagration as their lips touched.
It seemed an eternity before their mouths parted, and Rivke, panting, clung on to Bond, her breath warm near his ear as she murmured endearments. Slowly, he drew her from the chair on to the bed where they lay close, body to body, then mouth to mouth once more, until together, as though at some inaudible signal, their hands groped for one another.
What began as a kind of lust, or an act of need – two people alone, and responding to a natural desire for comfort and trust – slowly became tender, gentle, even truly loving.
Bond, still vaguely aware of the tiny remaining doubt in the back of his head, was quickly lost in this lovely creature, whose limbs and body seemed to respond to his own in an almost telepathic way. They were as two perfectly attuned dancers, able to predict each other’s moves.
Only later, with Rivke curled up under the covers, like a child in his arms, did they speak again of work. For them, the brief hours they had spent together had been but a short retreat from the harsh reality of their profession. Now it was after eight in the morning. Another day, another scramble through the dangers of the secret world.
‘For the sake of this operation, then, we work together.’ Bond’s mouth was unusually dry. ‘That’ll cover both of us . . .’
‘Yes, and . . .’
‘And I’ll help you see SS-Oberführer Tudeer in hell.’
‘Oh please, James darling. Please.’ She looked up at him, her face puckered in a smile that spoke only of pleasure – no malice, or horror, even though she was already pleading for the death of her hated father. Then the mood changed again: a serenity, the laugh in her eyes, and at the corners of her mouth. ‘You know, this is the last thing I thought would happen . . .’
‘Come on, Rivke. You don’t arrive in a man’s room at four in the morning, dressed in practically nothing, without the thought crossing your mind.’
‘Oh,’ she laughed aloud, ‘the thought was there. It’s just that I didn’t really believe it would happen. I imagined you were much too professional, and I thought I too was so determined and well-trained that I could resist anything.’ Her voice went small. ‘I did go for you, the moment I saw you, but don’t let it go to your head.’
‘It didn’t.’ Bond laughed.
The laugh had hardly died when he reached over for the telephone. ‘Time to see if we can get something out of our so-called friend Paula.’ He began to dial the apartment in Helsinki, while casting an admiring eye over Rivke as she put on the film of silk which passed as a nightdress.
At the other end of the line, the telephone rang. Nobody answered.
‘What do you make of it, Rivke?’ Bond put down the telephone. ‘She’s not there.’
Rivke shook her head. ‘You’ll ring her office, of course – but I don’t understand any of it. I used to know her well enough, but why lie about me? It doesn’t make sense; and you say she was a good friend . . .’
‘For a long time. I certainly didn’t spot anything sinister about her. None of it makes sense.’ Bond was on his feet now, walking towards the sliding louvred doors of the wardrobe. His quilted jacket hung inside, and he took the two medals from the pocket, tossing them across the room so that they jangled on to the bed. This would be the last throw in any present round of suspicion. ‘What d’you think about those, darling?’
Rivke’s hand went out and she held the medals for a moment, then let out a tiny cry, dropping them back on to the bed as though they were red hot.
‘Where?’ The one word was enough: delivered fast, like a shot.
‘In Paula Vacker’s flat. Lying on the dressing table.’
All humour had gone from Rivke. ‘I haven’t seen these since I was a child.’ Her hand went out to the Knight’s Cross and she picked it up again, turning it over. ‘You see? His name is engraved on the back. My father’s Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords. In Paula’s apartment?’ The last with complete bewilderment and disbelief.
‘Right there on the dressing table, for anyone to see.’
She dropped the medal back on to the bed and came towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘I thought I knew it all, James; but what’s it really about? Why Paula? Why the lies? Why my father’s Knight’s Cross and the Northern Campaign Shield – he was particularly proud of that one, by the way – but why?’
Bond held her close. ‘We’ll find out. Don’t worry. I’m as concerned as you. Paula always seemed so . . . well, level. Straight.’
After a minute or so, Rivke drew away. ‘I have to clear my head, James. Will you come down the ski run with me?’
He made a negative gesture. ‘I’ve got to see Brad and Kolya; and I thought we were going to watch out for each other . . .’
‘I just have to get out there in the open for a while.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘Darling James, I’ll be okay. Back in time for breakfast. Make my apologies if I’m a bit late.’
‘For heaven’s sake be careful.’
Rivke gave a little nod. Then shyly, ‘That was all quite something, Mr Bond. It could become a habit.’
‘I hope so.’ Bond pulled her to him, and they kissed by the door.
When she had gone, he turned back to the bed, bending down to retrieve Aarne Tudeer’s medals. The scent of her was everywhere, and she still seemed very close.
8
TIRPITZ
James Bond was profoundly disturbed. All but one tiny doubt told him that Rivke Ingber was absolutely trustworthy, just who she said she was: the daughter of Aarne Tudeer; the girl who had taken to the Jewish faith, and was now – even according to London – a Mossad agent. There was a sense of shock, however, at the mystery of Paula Vacker. She had been close to Bond over the years, never giving him the least cause to think of her as anything but an intelligent, fun-loving, hard-working girl who excelled in her job. But set against Rivke, and recent events, Paula appeared suddenly to have feet of melting wax.