‘So you do all in your power to assist Blackfriar, eh, Basilisk? You pick up Ebbie and go to great lengths to trap Heather and me on the road.’
‘Only on Chernov’s orders. I’ve told you, KGB are all around us. I thought of botching the job, but how could that help? James, I want your help. I need to get out now and take you and the girls with me. In front of the others, naturally, I have to keep up a pretence of obeying Chernov’s orders. But not for long.’
‘If you want to prove your intentions to me, Maxim, tell me where we are. What is the location of this castle?’
‘It’s not far from where we picked you up. The track to the road is about two miles. At the entrance we turn left and it’s straight on downhill until we reach the Dublin–Wicklow road. In an hour, two hours at the most, we can be at the airport and away.’
Bond still lay back with his eyes closed. ‘If I accept your version, I too need help.’
‘You have it. Don’t move suddenly but I’m unlocking the cuffs now. I have your gun with me – a nice piece of work, the ASP 9mm. There . . .’
Bond felt the heavy metal drop into his lap. ‘So we just shoot our way out?’
‘I fear we would be outnumbered. We could probably deceive my own men, but certainly not Black Ingrid, and those Chernov has planted.’
‘Again assuming I accept your word, how long have we got?’ Bond’s hands were free now. He could feel the cuffs drop away.
‘An hour. An hour and a half with luck. He has to land here while there is still enough light.’
‘And the girls, where are they being housed?’
‘They’ve been locked in the guest suite, I expect. Those were my orders. The problem is getting to them. After an interrogation such as I am supposed to be making, you would be semiconscious. The men will be waiting with a gurney trolley to take you along the passage. Then they’ll carry you up the stairs. There.’
Bond felt the shackles on his legs being freed. ‘Do you have any suggestions?’
He lifted the ASP, weighing it carefully to be certain there was a magazine in place. It was something he had practised many times, even in the dark, with empty magazines, blanks and the real thing. Now it was fully loaded.
‘There is one way . . .’ Smolin began, then wheeled round as the door smashed open to reveal Ingrid with the three dogs straining at their leashes.
‘Ingrid!’ Smolin used his most commanding tone.
‘It’s all been very interesting.’ Ingrid’s voice was thin and sharp. ‘I have made certain changes to the interrogation room since you were last here, Colonel – on General Chernov’s orders, naturally. For one thing, the switches for recording have been reversed. The General will be fascinated by the tapes. But we have listened long enough. He will be here soon, and I want you all locked away before he arrives.’
As though reading each other’s thoughts, Smolin leaped to the left, while Bond rolled out of the chair, moving right.
Ingrid shrieked in German at the dogs, ‘Wotan, Reckts! Anfassen! Fafie, Links! Anfassen!’
The dogs sprang, snarling, and as Fafie’s teeth fastened on his gun arm, Bond had a fleeting view of men standing behind Ingrid, and the third dog, Siegi, straining to go in for the kill.
11
DOG EAT DOG
Bond felt a searing pain as Fafie’s jaws fastened on the lower part of his arm, making the fingers of his right hand open involuntarily so that the gun dropped heavily on to the floor. He was aware of Ingrid’s harsh shouting above the snarling of the dogs, Smolin cursing in a mixture of Russian and German and the stale stinking smell of Fafie’s breath on his face. The dog held on, still growling, his head moving from side to side as though he were trying to wrench Bond’s arm from its socket.
Bond smashed his free hand with full force into the dog’s genitals, as he had been taught. The growl changed into a yelp of pain and for a second the jaws relaxed. Bond used that brief moment to roll and bring his right hand up to the animal’s throat. His thumb and fingers found the windpipe and he pressed as though to tear out the dog’s larynx. His left arm whipped around, catching the beast by the scruff of the neck, but by this time the shock of pain and the dog’s instinct for danger had given Fafie renewed strength. The yelp changed back into a series of chilling snarls and it took all of Bond’s depleted reserves just to hang on. He could feel the deepening pain where Fafie had lacerated his arm, and the growing weakness. But, like the dog, he knew he was fighting for his life. He increased the pressure on the dog’s windpipe.
He could hear the little leathery instructor from the training school as clearly as during the first of many kill-or-be-killed courses. ‘You never throttle anyone, or anything, like they do in the movies, with both hands. Always use the one-handed choke for good results.’
Screw in with the hand on the windpipe and use all your strength at the back of the neck with the other arm. He put action to the thought as Fafie threshed around in an attempt to pull clear. For one brief moment, Bond allowed his natural love for animals to creep into his consciousness. But for no more than a second. This was life and death. Fafie wanted his blood.
‘Fafie! Anfassen! Anfassen!’ Ingrid shrieked: ‘Fafie! Hold him! Hold him!’
But Bond had summoned a last surge of strength. His fingers cut through Fafie’s thick fur, pressed harder with his left arm. He could feel the animal begin to lose consciousness. Then suddenly Fafie’s jaws relaxed and the body became a dead weight.
Bond continued to act as though he were wrestling with the dog, glancing sideways to check where the ASP had fallen. He rolled, grunted and moved, trying to give the impression that Fafie was still fighting him. He felt strangely cool and calculating now, conscious of pain, but determined to get his hands on the automatic, which lay to his right, just within his grasp.
He looked towards Smolin and saw with horror that he was lying back with Wotan covering him, fangs bared ready to be buried into his victim’s throat if Smolin moved. That one look told Bond that the Colonel could not risk even the twitch of an eyebrow, for Siegi was in reserve, held on a chokechain, and after Siegi the men he had seen crowding in behind Ingrid.
Bond broke through the barrier of pain screaming from his damaged arm. Using Fafie as his shield, he rolled to the right, reached for the ASP, rolled again and fired two shots at Siegi. He let off another single round as Wotan turned from his captive, and the dog caught the full force of a Glazer slug, knocking him back against the wall. A fourth shot, directed low and towards the door, struck the jamb and carved a great hole through wood and plaster. The men scattered but shock rooted Ingrid to the floor.
‘No more!’ Smolin shrieked. He was on his feet now, lunging towards Ingrid. He caught one wrist and jerked her arm down hard, then towards him and away, so the luckless housekeeper hurtled across the room. She fell against the far wall with an unpleasant cracking sound, all the time screaming in rage, frustration and agony. Then she slid silently down the wall and sprawled, a black heap, on the floor.
Smolin had an automatic in his hand and was shouting towards the shattered doorway, ‘Alex! Yuri! I am your senior officer. KGB have mounted a despicable plot against us. You are with KGB men now. Turn. Turn on them. They are traitors and can only bring discredit and death upon your heads. Turn now!’ For a couple of seconds, silence hung in the passageway, then there was a cry, followed by a shot and the sound of blows. Smolin nodded at Bond, signalling him to take up a position on the right of the door, while he pressed himself against the wall on the opposite side. There was another shot, a shout and the noise of a struggle.