That sounded like M at bay. No wonder the old boy was so firm about the operation not having his blessing. He remembered Q’ute’s description of the situation, in Paris: ‘M’s been closeted in his office for three days now. He’s like a general under siege.’
As though reading his mind, Swift continued, ‘M is still under siege. In fact, I’m surprised that he even talked to me. We met under tremendous security precautions. But he won’t last if another double is found within his house, or even near to it. You follow?’
‘Does, say, Chernov – Blackfriar – know this?’
‘Possibly. What you haven’t figured out yet I am supposed to tell you. M’s pleased with what you’ve done so far. But now you need to know a couple of facts.’ Swift paused, letting the tension build. ‘First, the double within Cream Cake has to be eliminated, with no comebacks. Understand?’
Bond nodded. This was not an order M could have given directly. Under the recent Foreign Office ruling, assassination was not permitted. It had been the end of the old Double-O Section, though M maintained that he always thought of Bond as 007. Now he was being told to kill for the Service, and to save M’s neck. He felt quite calm about it, for Swift’s disclosure had given him a new impetus. M was a shrewd and tough old devil. He was also quite ruthless. His head was on the block and Bond had been chosen to save him. M knew that, of all his people, James Bond would fight shoulder to shoulder with him right up to the end.
‘So I’ve got to finger the double.’
‘Right’, said Swift with a quick nod, ‘and I can’t help you there, as I haven’t a clue either.’
It could be any of them, or all of them: Smolin, Heather, Ebbie, Baisley or Dietrich. Then another thought struck Bond. ‘Good lord!’ he said aloud.
‘What?’ Swift took a step towards him.
‘Nothing.’ He closed up like a clam, for suddenly he realised there was yet another contestant. He did not even allow himself to think of the ramifications if that were the case.
‘Sure it was nothing?’ Swift pressed.
‘Certain.’
‘Good, because there’s something else – someone else. To add weight to his position as Head of SIS, M requires a coup. The Cream Cake investigation provided the man and the means. He wants Blackfriar, and he wants him alive.’
‘We could have taken him in Ireland.’
‘And risked one hell of an incident on foreign soil? True, the Irish Special Branch are most co-operative, but I don’t think even they would have been that co-operative. No, we have to take him here, on what is still British territory. Here we have rights. That’s another reason M sent you into the field, James. As soon as he discovered Blackfriar had been tempted to leave Soviet territory to follow up on Cream Cake, he baited the trap with you.’
‘Because I’m on his department’s hit list?’
‘Exactly.’
That also made sense. M was never squeamish about putting men of Bond’s calibre in delicate situations.
‘And to help things on their way, I was told to instruct Jungle to head East. Chernov’s a determined devil, and he’s fallen for it.’
‘You mean I fell for it.’ Bond looked at him coldly.
‘I suppose you did. If you hadn’t got out, James, I would probably be dealing with this alone, because Chernov’s already here.’
‘On Cheung Chau Island?’
Swift gave him a quick, surprised look. ‘You’re very well informed. I thought that would be my little surprise.’
‘When did he get in?’
‘Last night. There have been a number of arrivals in the past twenty-four hours. Some came in via China. Altogether, Blackfriar’s got quite an army here. He has also taken prisoners. He even brought some – Smolin and Heather. By now I should think he has Jungle and his German girl under lock and key out on the island. It’s up to us to sort this out, James. I suggest we meet at around ten-thirty tonight in the lobby of the Mandarin? Okay?’
‘If you say so.’
‘I’ll organise a way to get us out to Cheung Chau. They call it Long Island or Dumb-bell Island here because it’s roughly shaped like a dumb-bell. The house is on the eastern side, on a promontory at the northern end of Tung Wan Bay. It’s very well situated and custom-built for the GRU. Chernov’s probably laughing his head off now he’s there – at least I presume he’s there.’
‘Ten-thirty, then,’ said Bond, glancing at his watch. ‘I have one or two surprises for Blackfriar.’
‘You’re also willing to give your life for M, aren’t you?’ Swift was not smiling.
‘Yes, damn him, and he knows it.’
‘I thought so.’ Swift gave a bleak smile, turned his head and called loudly through the bead curtain. At the back of the building, a door opened. Ebbie was the first to return.
‘And how’s life been treating you, Emilie? I’m sorry, I should say Ebbie,’ said Swift.
‘As always, dangerously. I feel that the Soviets have a revenge with me. Is that right, a revenge?’
‘A vengeance,’ said Bond.
At that moment Big Thumb Chang came back into the room carrying several items wrapped in oilskin, which Bond immediately began to transfer to the holdall.
‘You not examine the weapons, never mind?’ Chang looked momentarily shocked.
Bond tossed several packets of notes on to the table. Cash had been only a small part of the shopping list he had given Q’ute. He gave the Chinese a twisted, cruel smile.
‘Between trusted friends it is not necessary to count the money. Very old Chinese proverb, as you well know, Big Thumb Chang. Now, please leave us in peace.’
The Chinese cackled, scooped up the notes and backed into the inner room.
‘When we leave, I suggest you and Ebbie go first.’
Swift’s voice had been very soft throughout his conversation with Bond. Now it became almost soporifically calm. It was recognisable from the description on the file, which Bond had studied carefully (‘Always calm and usually speaks quietly’). Bond moved to the beaded curtain. He glanced into the inner room to make sure that Chang had retreated through the rear exit, leaving them alone. Satisfied, he spoke rapidly.
‘Ten-thirty, then?’
‘Count on it.’ With an almost imperious nod Swift sent them on their way, back down the steep steps flanked by the stalls of street traders and dim sum sellers.
‘Swift,’ said Ebbie, pronouncing it ‘Svift’. She was almost running to keep up with Bond.
‘Yes?’
‘That is where Heather and I got the idea for using fishes and birds as names.’
‘From Swift?’ Bond turned his head away from a dim sum stall. The food was probably wonderful, but to his sensitive nostrils it smelled pungent.
‘Ja. Swift is a bird and Heather said we should use code names of animals and birds; in the end, birds and fishes.’
Bond grunted, quickening his pace. Ebbie clung to his arm, struggling to keep up with his long, purposeful strides. They took no detours but went straight back to the Mandarin along Pedder Street, dodging the traffic into Ice House Street. All the time, Bond scanned the crush of Chinese in the streets, feeling a million watchers around them, a thousand imperceptible signals passing between them. Back in the hotel, he went straight to the elevators, almost dragging Ebbie with him.
‘Wait by the door,’ he told her when they reached their room.
It took less than four minutes for him to transfer the main items provided by Q’ute from his suitcase to the canvas holdall. Then they returned to the hotel foyer. He strode to the main desk, Ebbie in his wake. A pretty Chinese girl no more than fifteen years old, glanced up from a computer keyboard and asked if she could help him.