"I go in my own car." He was not asking but telling Holy.
"If you insist. I shall have to have the telephone disconnected, but you'll not object to that."
"Just leave me an engine and a complete set of wheels." Epoc Holy allowed himself the ghost of a smile. Then the face hardened again.
"James Bond knew suddenly that he was going to say something unpleasant.
"James, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. I understand the nubile Miss Chalmer was in your room last night. Come to that, you were in hers until the early hours. I must ask you, did Cindy Chalmer give you anything? Or try to pass something to you?"
"I trust not then he realised this was not the time for facetious remarks. "No.
Nothing. Should she have?" Holy stared at the table. "She says not.
Idiot girl.
Sometime yesterday she removed what she imagined to be a rather important computer program from the laboratory. She's shown signs of wilfulness before now, so I set a small trap for her. The program she stole was rubbish, quite worthless. She says that you knew nothing of her action, and I'm inclined to believe her. But the fact remains that she hid the disk among your clothes where, James, if has been found.
Cindy made quite a speech about it. She seems to think that we're - as she puts it - up to no good. So, she took the disk as some kind of evidence and hid it in your room until she could think of a way to use it against me." He became hesitant.
"We've kept it in the family, James - by which I mean that we've not let it go beyond Dazzle and myself. My partners, Rahani and Zwingli, could become alarmed, might even pass it on to the representatives of SPECTRE. I don't think we'd want that, not a domestic thing. None of their business." So, thought Bond, as serious a matter as stealing even a dummy back-up program of the Balloon Game on which, he presumed, the whole operation for SPECTRE was based could be overlooked and kept "in the family'.
It was an interesting turn of events. What it did show was that Jay Autem Holy lived in terror of SPECTRE, and that was a piece of deduction which may well be put to valuable use later.
"Cindy?" Bond mused. "What. ?"
"Will happen to her? She is regarded as one of my family. She will be disciplined, like a child, and kept under lock and key. Dazzle is seeing to it."
"I haven't set eyes on your wife recently.
"No, she prefers to remain in the background, but she has certain tasks to perform, tasks necessary to success.
What I really wish to ask of you, James, is that we keep this business about Miss Chalmer to ourselves. Keep it as a personal matter. I mean, we don't mention it to anybody. Personal, between us, eh?"
"It's personal enough already." Bond clamped his mouth shut. What else was there to say?
Tigerbalm came for him shortly after six o'clock. They had not locked him in, though food was served on a tray, brought up by a young Arab. Tigerbalm was very polite.
They went to the same room as before, with its bolted-down table and chairs. The only difference this time was that a tape recorder, with a separate set of earphones, had been hooked up to the telephone.
"It's time, then." Holy was not alone. Tamil Rahani stood beside him, while the large, craggy face of General Zwingli peered out from behind them.
"I can't promise this part will work." Bond's voice was flat and calm. So calm that it appeared to activate something deep within General Zwingli, who pushed his way through his partners, sticking out a leathery hand.
"We haven't met, Commander Bond." The voice had a slightly Texan tang to it. "My name's Joe Zwingli, and I just want to wish you luck, son. Get in there and make it happen for us. It's in a great cause - to put your country and mine back on their feet; give them some new order in the midst of their present chaos." Bond did not want to disillusion the man. But a scheme of SPECTRE'S that was not for their good alone, he reckoned, would never see the light of day.
He played it to the hilt. "I'll do what I can, sir." Then he sat down and waited for Holy to set the tape monitor, put on the headphones and indicate they were ready.
He picked up the handset and punched out the digits to access the small complex where the S.I.S. Duty Security Officer to the Foreign Office spent his twelve hour watches, together with specialist teleprinter, cipher, radio and computer operators. Two shifts a day, twelve hours apiece.
The number which Bond had in fact punched was a screened telephone number known only to the field officers of his Service. It was also manned day and night, and paraded many identities, depending upon what operations were being run. That night it was a Chinese Laundry based in Soho, a radio cab firm, a French restaurant, and - if the need arose - the Foreign Office Duty Security Officer's direct line. For that purpose it had been alerted for special action ever since Bond's radiophone call from the Bentley on the previous evening. If the call came, it would be passed to one person only. The telephone rang four times before anyone picked it up. "Hallo?" The voice was flat, disguised for safety.
"Tony Denton - the D.O. please.
"Who wants him?"
"Predator."
"Hang on please.
Bond saw Holy give a wry smile, for when outlining his plan, he had refused to give the cryptonym he had used as a member of the Service. Apparently Jay Autem Holy thought this one very apt.
They waited while the call was being switched through to Bill Tanner, and it was his old friend Tanner's voice which next came on to the line.
"Denton. I thought you were out, Predator. This is an irregular call. I'm afraid I have to terminate."
"Tony! Wait!" Bond hunched over the table. "This is priority. Yes, I'm out - as far as anyone can be out - but I have something vital to the Service. But really vital."
"Go on." The voice at the other end sounded doubtful.
"Not on the telephone. Not safe. You're the only person I could think of. I must see you. I have to see you.
Imperative, Tony. Consul." Bond used the standard cipher word for extreme emergency. At the far end there was a fractional pause.
"When?"
"Tonight. Before midnight. I can get to you, I think.
Please, Tony, give me the all clear." Again there was a long pause. "If this isn't straight I'll see you in West End Central by morning, charged under the Official Secrets Act. As quickly as you can. I'll clear you. Right?"
"Be with you before midnight.
Bond sounded relieved, but the line was closed long before he took the handset from his ear.
"First hurdle." Holy jabbed down on the recorder's stop button.
"Now, you have to be convincing when you get there."
"So far, it's playing to packed houses." Tamil Rahani sounded pleased. "The dispatch rider brings the frequency up from Cheltenham at around eleven forty-five?"
"If the U.S. President is away from his own country, yes.
Bond held the man's eyes, trying to discern his state of mind.
Rahani laughed. "Oh, he's out of the country. No doubt about that, Commander Bond. No doubt at all."
"If you leave here at nine forty-five you should make it with time to spare." Holy removed his headset. "We'll be with you all the way, James. All the way."
DOWN ESCALATOR
THE METAL FORESTS of antennae which rise above the massive pile of government buildings running from Downing Street along Whitehall and Parliament Street, conjure up thoughts of communications flying through the night; of telephones waking ministers, calling them to deal with some important crisis; or the fabled telegrams crossing the airwaves from distant embassies.
In fact, only open messages run into those government offices.