In all, only eight files had been at risk. But, on the relevant dates, James Bond had been one of those with access to the files. Five people were under suspicion, and they had hauled Bond in before anybody else.
"Someone of my rank and experience would normally be given the courtesy of a private interview with the Head of Service,' he said, his tone verging on anger. "But no. It didn't seem to matter that the other four were junior, relatively inexperienced and without field records. It was as if I was singled out because of my position, because I had been in the field, because of my experience."
"You were actually accused?" It was Simon who asked.
Bond allowed the anger to boil up and break the surface. "Oh, yes. Yes, I was accused. Before they even talked to anyone else they carted in a couple of very good interrogators, and a Q.C. You removed these files from the headquarters building, Commander Bond. Why? Did you copy them? Who asked you to take them? It went on for two days."
"And did you take them from the building, Commander?"
"No, I did not,' Bond almost shouted. "And it took them another two days to haul in the other four, and then a day for Head of Registry to come back off leave and remember that special permission had been given to one officer to take the wretched files over for study by a Civil Service mandarin adviser to the Ministry. They had left spaces in the records, just to keep the data neat.
Head of Registry was supposed to put a special code into the databank. But he was off on leave, and forgot about it. Nobody had a go at him, or offered his head on a salver."
"So no files went missing at all. You got an apology, of course?"
"Not immediately." Bond glowered, like a schoolboy.
And nobody seemed at all concerned about my feelings.
Head of Service didn't appear even to understand why I got annoyed."
"So you resigned? Just like that?"
"More or less."
"It's a very good story. Tamil Rahani looked pleased.
"But it will be difficult to prove, if I know anything about government departments.
"Exceptionally difficult,' Bond agreed.
"Tell me, what did the files in question contain?"
"Ah." Bond tried to look as charming as possible. "Now you're really asking me to betray."
"Yes." Rahani was quite matter-of-fact.
"Mainly updated material on the disposition of Eastern Bloc tactical forces. One concerned agents on the ground and their proximity to the Eastern bases." Rahani's eyebrows twitched.
"Sensitive. I see. Well, Commander, I shall make a few enquiries. In the meantime, perhaps Simon will show you around Erewhon, and we'll continue to have little talks."
"You mean interrogations?" Rahani shrugged. "If you like. Your future career depends on what you tell us now. Quite painless, I assure you.
As they reached the door, Bond turned back. "May I ask you a question, sir?"
"Of course."
"You bear a striking resemblance to a Mr. Tamil Rahani, chairman of Rahani Electronics. I believe you've been in Monte Carlo recently?" Rahani's laugh had all the genuine warmth of an angry cobra. "You should know, Commander. You were raising a fair amount of hell at the gaming tables on the Cete d'Azur at the time, I think."
"Touche', sir." Bond followed Simon out into the sunshine.
They went first to a mess hall where about eighty people were enjoying a lunch of chicken cooked with peppers, onions, almonds and garlic.
Everyone wore the same olive uniform. Some carried side arms. There were men and women, mainly young, and from many different countries.
They sat in pairs or teams of four. That was how the training went, Simon explained. They worked with a partner or in teams. Sometimes two teams would be put together, if the work demanded it. Some of the pairs were training to be loners.
"Doing what?" Bond asked.
"Oh, we cover the usual spectrum. Big bang merchants, take away artists, removal men, monopoly teams. You name it, we do it electricians, mechanics, drivers, all the necessary humdrum jobs too." Bond identified a number of different tongues being spoken in the hall - German, French, Italian. There were also Israelis, Irish, and even English he was told. He almost immediately identified a pair of German terrorists whose names and details were on file with his Service, M.I.5 and at Scotland Yard.
"If you want anonymity, I shouldn't use those two in Europe,' he told Simon quietly. "They've both got star billing with our people."
"That's good. Thank you. We prefer unknowns, and I had a feeling about that couple. Everyone has had some field work behind them when they come here, but we don't like faces." Simon gave a knowing grin.
"We do need them though. Some have to be lost, you know. It comes in handy during training." Throughout the afternoon, they walked around the well-equipped training area, and Bond experienced the odd sensation of having seen all this before. It took an hour or so to work out exactly what was wrong. These men and women were being trained in techniques he had seen used by the S.A.S Germany's G.S.G.9, the French G.I.G.N and several other elite units dealing with anti-terrorist activities. There was one difference, however. The trainees at Erewhon were receiving expert tuition on how to counter anti-terrorist action.
Apart from classes in weaponry of all kinds, special attention was paid to hijacking and takeover. They even had two flight simulators in the compound. One building was devoted solely to the techniques of bargaining with authorities while holding either hostages or kidnap victims. The skills were being taught extremely thoroughly.
One of the most spectacular training aids lay around the gutted buildings Bond had noticed earlier. Here a team of four would be taught how to fight off attempted rescues employing all the known counter-terrorist techniques. It was disturbing to note that most eventualities appeared to be covered.
That night Bond slept again in the same sparsely furnished room where he had first woken. On the following day, the interrogation began. It was conducted on a classic one-to-one basis - Tamil Rahani and James Bond - with Rahani asking seemingly ordinary questions that were, in fact, attempts to ferret out highly sensitive information about Bond's Service.
Rahani began with reasonably harmless stuff, such as organisation and channels of command. Soon, detail was being called for, and Bond had to use all his native ingenuity to give the appearance of telling everything, at the same time keeping back really vital information.
Rahani was like a terrier. Just when Bond thought he had managed to avoid giving some piece of information, Rahani would change tack, going in a circle to return to the nub of the question. It became all too obvious that once they had milked him dry, Bond would be quietly thrown to the wolves.
On the sixth day Rahani was still hammering away at the same questions concerning details of protection for heads of state, the Prime Minister, the Queen and other members of the Royal Family. This was no part of Bond's own work, or the work of his Service, but Rahani quite rightly assumed that Bond would know a great deal about it. He even wanted names, possible weaknesses in those assigned to such duties, and the kind of schedules they worked. At about five o'clock in the afternoon, a message was brought in. Rahani read it, then slowly folded the paper and looked at Bond.
"Well, Commander, it seems your days here are numbered. There is a job for you back in England. Something very important is at last coming to fruition, and you are to be part of it. You are on salary as from now.