Bond had been way ahead of him. He remembered M’s briefing, and the grave look on his chief’s face when he referred to the interrogation of the one NSAA man they had in custody at the Headquarters building – the one who tried to shoot himself. What was it M had said? ‘His aim was off.’ No details, though.
‘It is my guess,’ von Glöda’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, ‘my guess, that any information prised from that prisoner would have been given to you at your briefing, before you joined Kolya. I need to know – must know – how much the traitor has given away. You will tell me, Mr Bond.’
Bond managed to draw a laugh from the back of his dry throat. ‘I’m sorry, von Glöda . . .’
‘Führer!’ von Glöda shrieked. ‘You will be as everybody else, and call me Führer.’
‘A Finnish officer who defected to the Nazis? A Finnish-German who has delusions of grandeur? I cannot call you Führer.’ Bond spoke quietly, not expecting the tirade that was to come.
I have renounced nationality. I am not Finnish, nor am I German! Wasn’t it Goebbels who proclaimed Hitler’s feelings? The German people had no right to survive because they had been found wanting; they could not live up to the ideals of the great Nazi movement. They would be wiped out so that a new Party could eventually rise and carry on the work . . .’
‘But they weren’t wiped out.’
‘It makes no difference. My allegiance is to the Party, and to Europe. To the world. Now is the dawn of the Fourth Reich. Even this small piece of information is necessary to me; and you will give it to me.’
‘I have no knowledge of any NSAA prisoner. No information about an interrogation.’
The man who stood erect before Bond suddenly appeared to be convulsed with rage. His eyes blazed. ‘You will tell all you know. Everything British Intelligence knows about the NSAA.’
‘I have nothing to tell you as I know nothing,’ Bond repeated. ‘In any case, what can you do? To carry on your own struggle you have to hand me over to Kolya – that’s your deal for silence.’
‘Oh, Mr Bond, don’t be naïve. I can get my men, and military materiel, out within twenty-four hours. Kolya has also sold his soul to ambition. He sees a power of his own if he walks into Dzerzhinsky Square with you – the man SMERSH has wanted for so long. Do you think his superiors know what he is doing? Of course not. Kolya has a sense of the dramatic – like all good agents and soldiers. As far as Department V of the First Directorate is concerned, Kolya Mosolov is on a mission to sniff out missing armaments in this area. Nobody’s going to come looking for a while if they don’t hear from him. Understand, James Bond? You have bought me time, that’s all. A chance to finish my little arms deal, and an opportunity to get out. Kolya Mosolov is expendable. You are expendable.’
Bond’s mind raced through the logic. Von Glöda’s neo-Nazi terrorist army had, indeed, carried out most successful work in the past year. Moreover, M himself was adamant that the National Socialist Action Army was being taken very seriously by all the Western governments. M’s gravity, and warning, had followed his remarks about the one NSAA man taken alive, and now incarcerated in the building overlooking Regent’s Park. This meant the man must have said enough to provide the Service with high-grade intelligence on von Glöda’s strength, and hiding places. The real answer, Bond thought, was that his own Service, if not others, knew exactly where von Glöda’s headquarters lay hidden at this moment, and possibly, through interrogation, the location of any future command post.
‘So, I’m expendable because of one prisoner,’ Bond began. ‘One man who may or may not be held by my people. That’s rich, when you consider the millions your former Führer held in captivity, murdered in the gas chambers, killed off with slave labour. Now, one man holds the balance.’
‘Oh, a good try, Mr Bond,’ von Glöda replied drily. ‘Would that it were as simple. But this is a serious matter, and I must ask you to treat it as such. I can take no chances.’
He paused for a second, as though considering how best to convey the situation to Bond. Then: ‘You see, there is nobody here, not even on my General Staff, who knows the exact location of my next headquarters. Not Kolya, whose path to great power was handed to him by me, engineered by me, or Paula, or Buchtman – Tirpitz to you. None of them knows.
‘Unhappily, however, there are a few people who, however unwittingly, hold this information in their heads. The men and women who await me at the new headquarters, at this moment, of course they are well aware. But there are others. For instance, the unit which carried out the operation in Kensington Palace Gardens, outside the Soviet Embassy, went from here to be briefed – en route for London – at the new Command Post.
‘From that new and highly secret headquarters they went out to do their work. All are accounted for but one. My information is that he failed to commit suicide when he fell into the hands of your Service. He is a well-trained man, but even the cleverest officers can fall into traps. You know how two and two can be put together, Mr Bond. I need two things from you. First, if he gave you the location of my new headquarters, where I intend to be established shortly. Second, where he is being held prisoner.’
‘I know nothing about any NSAA prisoner.’
Von Glöda gave Bond a blank, completely unemotional look. ‘Possibly you are telling the truth. I doubt it, but it is possible. All I want is the truth. My personal feelings are that you do know where he is, and that you are aware of anything he has said. Only a fool would send you into the field without the full facts.’
Clever von Glöda might well be, thought Bond. He certainly had an eye for detail, and a sharp brain; but his last remark left no doubts about his complete ignorance concerning security matters. Bond also took extreme offence at the inference that M was a fool.
‘Do you think I would be given access to all the facts?’ Bond allowed himself an indulgent smile.
‘I am certain of it.’
‘Then you are the fool, sir. Not my superiors.’
Von Glöda gave a hard, short, one-syllable laugh. ‘Have it your own way, but I dare not take risks. I will know the truth. We can take a man to the limit here. If you have nothing to say, you will say nothing, and I shall know there is little danger. If you know only where my man is being held, that information can be flashed to London. He may be held in the most inaccessible place, but my team in London will still get him – with time to spare.’
Could one of von Glöda’s teams penetrate the Service’s Headquarters? As much as Bond doubted it, he was disinclined to put it to the test.
‘And what if I break down and lie to you? What if I say, yes, there is such a prisoner – though I do assure you I know of none – and he has given us all the information we need?’
‘Then you also will know the location of the new Command Post, Mr Bond. You see, there is no way you can win.’
Not in your book, Bond thought. The man could see nothing unless it was in clear black and white.
‘One other thing.’ Von Glöda rose to his feet. ‘Here we rely on the older techniques of interrogation. Painful, but very successful. I have yet to trust what friend Kolya would call a chemical interrogation. So know what you face, Mr Bond. Exceptional discomfort, to put it mildly. I plan to take you to the threshold of pain; and doctors tell me that no man has yet been born who will not crack under the method we shall use.’
‘But I know nothing.’
‘Then you will not crack, and I shall know. Now, why not avoid the worst? Tell me about the prisoner – where he is held; what he has revealed.’