“See what I can do, then.” Carter left and they began getting down to details. Bond asked if they still had the companionway down to a boat deck, at sea level.
“They took it up after clearing the mess off the main deck,” the USNIC man said. “That Harrier pilot knew what he was doing. They said fireworks and he gave us the Fourth of July.”
“Or Guy Fawkes day,” the SBS officer added, not wanting the Brits to be left out.
“Well, he won’t do it again,” Bond said, a shade huffily. “Now, down to cases.
They went into the operation in great detail, covering all contingencies: agreeing, disagreeing and finally compromising on one or two matters. When they had the whole business sorted out, Beatrice asked why she had been left out.
“You’ll be in Gibraltar, my dear.” Bond gave her a long look.
“When we ve done the daring rescue bit, if we succeed, I’m coming to join you - providing I’m still alive. Then, together we re going to finish the job and take Baradj in.”
“Dead or alive?”
“Alive if possible. Enough folk will die tonight, and I am slowly coming to the conclusion that too much killing is bad for the health.”
“If you say so, James. But I bet Baradj isn’t one who’ll give in easily.”
“Iet’s get this little show out of the way first.” Ignoring the others, he leaned over and kissed her on each cheek, then on her lips.
The P36 had brought back some very pretty pictures with its sophisticated equipment, a lot of which relied on infra-red which picked up the heat of human bodies.
They had been almost right. There were three guards on the main deck, one forward, one aft, and a third amidships. They also knew that there were three, not two, people on the bridge, and two in Flight Operations, and at least one in Communications.
They agreed that they had been blind to that one. There had to be someone in Communications.
“Clover’ll be the third hod on the bridge,” Bond thought. It was three o’clock in the morning, and they were all gathered by two matt black inflatables. One for the USMC contingent and one for the SBS.
Bond would travel with the SBS, and they had arranged some distractions to go down at zero hour, 03.45. All were dressed in black and with blackened faces, the weaponry slung about them from black webbing harnesses.
They made their approach on the ship’s relatively blind side, the port quarter. It took half an hour of steady, quiet paddling to bring them under the darkness of the ship’s hull, keeping close together, only parting company, moving fore and aft once they reached the ship.
The men in both inflatables now put on their respirators, and readied the other equipment, waiting, glancing at their luminous watches, for the distraction to start. The first huge flash and thump came right on time from about half a mile away, in the direction of the other members of the Task Force. The explosions were made to cause maximum glare and minimum noise. They were very bright, and a lot of magnesium was being used up.
The US marines and SBS people kept their eyes down, but reckoned that nobody either on the open deck, bridge, or Flight Ops of invincible could possibly keep their eyes off the flashes.
There was hardly any sound from the spring-loaded launchers which fired a total of four grappling hooks, each wrapped and swaddled in sacking, from the inflatables. Each hook had heavy knotted rope attached, and the irons thudded up onto the guard rails with little or no noise. It was merely luck which caused the irons to be fired at the same time as another of the explosions out at sea.
Bond was the first up the forward rope. He knew the whole invading party could make it to the main deck in less than three minutes, so he moved, at speed, but silently, keeping low, seeing the girl on watch near the bows, outlined against the sky. There was no time for sentiment. The girl would kill him as soon as look at him, so Bond put her down fast and efficiently, using the blade of a Sykes-Fairhairn knife, taking her in a choke hold and letting the blade slice through the side of her neck, at the prescribed place. She went down without a sound.
At the same moment, the other two girls on deck watch went down one by knife, the other by a vicious karate chop that broke her neck.
Bond joined two of the SBS men who were standing on either side of the Crew Room bulkhead. He entered first, the other two covering him, and moved through into the passageway, deep inside the island, turning left to take the companionway up past Flight Operations, then along the catwalk leading to the bridge.
They reached the top of the companionway, and were about to move on to the catwalk when quick clicking footsteps came from their right.
All three men sank into the darkness as a Wren hurried past them, obviously on her way to the bridge.
Bond motioned them to follow him and they moved, like silent shadows behind the hurrying Wren. By the main bulkhead to the bridge, they paused.
“They’ve really agreed?” It was Clover Pennington’s voice.
“The message says Scratch, Ma’am. You said that was agreement, and that we should stand by. If they try anything funny when Viper moves in, we’ll get Desecrate, and, once he’s picked up the money, it’ll be Off Caps, which means we get out as planned.”
“Well lover began. Then Bond nodded, tossed a stun grenade onto the bridge, waited for its disorientating, but nonlethal flash and bang, and then sprang in, the two SBS men at his heels.
The girls over by one of the open screens, covering the deck below, whirled around, their machine-pistols coming up, as though, in spite of the flash-bang, they had reacted automatically.
There were four phud-phud sounds, and both girls dropped their weapons reeling back against the screen before falling heavily on the deck.
The Wren from Communications took two bullets in the neck, and Bond was on Clover, spinning her around and jamming his pistol in her side. “Right, Clover. You take us to them, or you’re meat, like the others. The whole ship’s covered. We’re everywhere.” He pushed her towards the bulkhead, catching the glint of sudden fear in her eyes as she nodded, and, at that moment, all hell broke loose.
The tear-gas grenades had gone down the companionways as they had arranged, and the remaining members of the assault force were sweeping the passageways clear. Bond pushed Clover along the catwalk. There was a US marine standing by the Flight Ops bulkhead, and you could glimpse a body on the deck. The marine nodded and followed up Bond’s party.
“You lead. Tell me where they are,” Bond muttered as they went down the companionway.
“Probably dead,” Clover choked. “My orders to Deeley were to chop them if anything happened.”
“Well get a move on.
At the bottom of the companionway, an SBS man loomed out of the tear-gas, motioning them to avoid the body that lay sprawled across the narrow passageway. Bond had to push Clover on as she was fighting For air in the stinging choking tear-gas, but there was no doubt of their destination. They were heading for the Briefing Room in which the secret summit had been held.
“Watch for the next corner!” Bond shouted, knowing it would angle around into the area which led to the Briefing Room. There would be at least one girl on watch there.
One of the SBS men leaped forward, and fired twice with a silenced H & K. They followed to see that another Wren had gone down, directly in front of the Briefing Room bulkhead.
They were half-way down the passage when there came a crack and thump from the far end. One of the SBS men was flung against the metal wall, along which he seemed to spin three times before sprawling on his back. But before the casualty even hit the deck, the American Marine fired, four times in quick succession. Peering through the smoke, Bond saw that the unspeakable Donald Speaker had said his last word.
They were at the Briefing Room bulkhead door now and Bond signalled a cover from both sides. Then, his hand slammed down on the heavy door handle and, as the metal swung back, so he pushed Clover inside.