Peter was around thirty - a few years older than Cindy. Slightly built, immaculately dressed and prematurely balding, he had a precise pedantry and wit that gave a hint of his sexual predeliction.
Following Cindy's remark, he helped himself to a drink, saying, "You've got plenty of chances here, Cindy. There are some great big farm boys in the village I'd fight you for. .
"That's enough, Peter!" For the first time that night, Jason showed the steel fist.
After the introductions (Bond wondered if he imagined it, but Cindy Chalmer appeared to give him a sharp, almost conspiratorial look when they shook hands), Dazzle suggested they go in to dinner. "Tomas will be furious if his cooking is spoiled." Tomas was the silent Filipino, who had learned to cook at the feet of Europe's greatest chefs, by courtesy of Jason St. John-Finnes.
The meal was almost a banquet: a Lombardy soup of hot consomme' poured over raw eggs sprinkled with Parmesan and laid on lightly fried bread; smoked salmon mousse; venison marinated and roasted with juniper berries, wine, chopped ham and lemons: and a souffle' all Grand Marnier - "Specially for Lady Freddie." To begin with, the conversation mainly concerned the work Cindy and Peter had just been doing.
"How did it go, then?" Jason asked as they sat down, at a long refectory table set on bare polished boards in the dining room.
"We've found two more random problems you can set into the early section. Raise the general and search strengths of the British patrols, and you get some very interesting results." Peter gave a lopsided smile.
"And, to equalise, there's a new random for the later stages,' Cindy added. "We've put in a random card that gives the Colonial Militia more uncaptured cannon. If you draw that option the British don't know the strength until they begin assaulting the hill." Freddie and Dazzle were chattering away about clothes, but Jason caught Bond's interested eye. He turned to Peter and Cindy.
"Mr. Bond doesn't approve of using such high-tech magic for mere games. He smiled, the comment bearing no malice.
"Ah, come on, Mr. Bond!"
"It's intellectual stimulation.
Cindy and Peter leapt to Holy's defence simultaneously. Peter continued, "Is chess a frivolous use of wood or ivory?"
"I said nothing of the kind, said Bond, laughing. He knew that the testing time was getting close. "I was simply trained as a programmer in Cobol, databases and the use of graphics - for government purposes - - "Not military purposes, Mr. Bond?"
"Oh, the military use them, of course.
When I was a naval officer we didn't have the benefit of that kind of technology." He paused. "I would in fact be intrigued to hear about your work. These games - are they really games?"
"They are games in one sense,' Peter answered. "I suppose they're also tutorials. A lot of serving military people order our products.
"They teach, yes." Jason leaned over towards Bond.
"You cannot sit down and play one of our games unless you have some knowledge of strategy, tactics and military history. They can be taxing, and they do require intelligence. It's a booming market, James." He paused, as though a thought had struck him. "What's the most significant leap forward in the computer arts - in your opinion, of course?" Bond did not hesitate. "Oh, without doubt the advances being made, almost by the month, in vastly increased storage of data using smaller and smaller space. Jason nodded. "Yes. Increased memory in decreased space.
Millions of accessible facts, stored for all time in something no larger than a postage stamp. And, as you say, it's advancing by the month, even by the day. In a year or so, the little home micro will be able to store almost as much information as the large mainframe computers used by banks and government departments.
There is also the breakthrough that marries the laser video disk recording with computer commands - movements, actions, scale, response.
At Endor we have a very sophisticated set-up. You may like to look around after dinner.
"Put him on The Revolution and see if a novice player comes up with anything new,' suggested Cindy.
"Why not?" The bright green eyes glittered, as though some challenge were in the offing.
"You've made a computer game out of what? The Russian Revolution?" Jason laughed. "Not quite, James. You see, our games are vast, in a way too large for the home computer.
They're all very detailed and need a big memory. We pride ourselves on their playability as well as their high level of intellectual stimulation. In fact, we don't like calling them games.
Simulations is a better word.
"No, we haven't yet got a simulation of any revolution.
At the moment, we have only six on the market: Crecy, Blenheim, the Battle of the Pyramids - Napoleon's Egyptian expedition Austerlitz, Cambrai, which is very good, because the outcome could have been very different; and Stalingrad. We're also very well advanced with one on the Blitzkrieg of 1940. And we are preparing an interesting one on the American Revolution - you know, the final stages prior to the War of Independence: Concord, Lexington, Bunker's Hill.
September 1774 to June 1775." Freddie and I are going to look at the conservatory,' Dazzle suddenly interrupted, rather sharply. "It's shop all the time. Very boring. Hope to see you later, James.
Lovely meeting you.
Jason did not even apologise, merely smiling benignly and shrugging. Freddie gave Bond a broad wink as the two ladies left the room. As he turned back to the table, he caught Cindy looking at him again, in the same almost conspiratorial way, tinged this time with jealousy.
Or did he imagine it?
Jason had hardly paused. "Naturally, you're conversant with flowcharting a computer program,James?" Bond nodded, recalling the hours spent in Monaco drawing the complex charts which showed exactly what you wanted the computer to do. Once more, with the memory came that odd sense of Percy's presence. He dragged himself back, for Jason was still speaking.
"Before we prepare a detailed flowchart, we have to find out what we want to chart. So we begin to plan the simulation by playing it on a large table. This acts as our graphics guide, and we have counters for units, troops, ships, cannon, plus cards for the random possibilities: weather cards, epidemics, unexpected gains or losses, hazards of war." Peter took over. "From this we learn the scope of the program task. So, when we've played the campaign.
"About a million times,' Cindy added. "It seems like a million, anyway.
Peter nodded ". . . We're ready to begin flowcharting the various sections. You have to be dedicated in this job."
"Come down to the laboratory." Jason's voice became commanding. "We'll show James the board we're working on now. Who knows, he may get interested and return to battle it out with me. If you do,' he said, looking intently at Bond, "make sure you have plenty of time. Campaigns cannot be fought in five minutes." Behind these seemingly pleasant words there was a hint of obsession that Bond found disturbing.
As they left the room, he was conscious of Cindy brushing against him. He felt her hand touch his right hip lightly, just where the ASP 9mm was holstered. Had that been accidental, or was she carrying out a subtle search? Whatever the answer, Cindy Chalmer, at least, knew that he was armed.
They went through the main hall, where Jason produced a bunch of keys attached to a thin gold chain, unlocking a door which, he said, had once been the way down to the cellars.
"We've made a few changes, naturally."
"Naturally,' responded Bond, unprepared for the nature of the alterations. Below the house there were three large, well-equipped, computer rooms, with models of all the best-known micros sitting in front of their visual display units. In a fourth room, Jason's office, Bond's heart leapt as he spotted a machine that looked almost exactly like the Terror Twelve now safe outside in the Bentley's boot.