John Gardner - Licence Renewed

'Then we should have Special Branch waiting for him...'

'No, sir. There are legal documents hidden at the castle, and — as I've said — probably some mad money as a backup. Anton Murik will be heading for the castle. He'll know the time's come to destroy the evidence of Miss Peacock's claim to the title and estates of Murcaldy. I want him caught in the act, alive if possible.'

'Then we should send in Duggan's men with Special Branch.'

'Sir, he should be mine.' Bond's voice was like the cutting edge of a sabre.

'You're asking me to bend the rules, 007. That's Duggan's territory, and I've no right...' He trailed into silent thought. 'What exactly were you thinking of?'

'That the Chief-of-Staff comes with me, sir. That you give us forty-eight hours' freedom, and the use of a helicopter.'

'Helicopter?'

'To get us up there quickly. Oh yes, and just before we go in, I'd like some kind of overflight.'

'Overflight,' M came near to snouting. 'Overflight? Who do you think I am, 007? President of the United States? What do you mean, overflight?'

Bond tried to look sheepish. Bill Tanner was grinning. 'Well, sir, haven't we got a couple of old Chipmunks, fitted with infra-red, and the odd Gazelle helicopter? Aren't they under your command?'

M gave a heavy cough, as though clearing his throat.

'If the Chief-of-Staff and I went up in the helicopter, we'd need an overflight about five minutes before landing. Just to make certain the coast is clear, that Murik hasn't arrived first.'

M fiddled with his pipe.

'Just for safety, sir.'

'You sure you wouldn't like a squadron of fighter-bombers to strafe the place?'

Bond grinned. 'I don't think that'll be necessary, sir.'

There was an even longer pause before M spoke. 'On one condition, Bond — providing the Chief-of-Staff agrees to this foolhardiness.' He looked towards Bill Tanner, who nodded. 'You do not go armed. In all conscience I cannot, at this stage, allow you to move into Duggan's area of operations carrying arms.'

'You did say the Laird's collection of antique weapons had been left intact, sir?'

M nodded, with a sly smile. 'I know nothing about any of this, James. But good luck.' Then, sarcastically, he added, 'Nothing else?'

'Well...' Bond looked away. 'I wonder if Sir Richard's people could be persuaded to let us have the keys to the castle for a while? P.D.Q., sir. Just so that I can recover clothes left there, or some such excuse.'

M sighed, made a grumbling noise, and reached for the telephone again.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning when the Gazelle helicopter carrying James Bond and Bill Tanner reached Glen Murcaldy.

Bond had already been through the landing pattern with the young pilot. He wanted to be put down on the track near to the point where the Saab had gone into the large ditch. Most of all, he was concerned that the Gazelle should be kept well out of sight, though he had armed himself with two sets of hand-held flares — a red and a green — to call up the chopper if there was trouble.

Exactly five minutes before reaching touchdown, they heard the code word 'Excelsior' through their headphones. The Chipmunk had overflown the glen and castle, giving them the all clear. There was no sign of any vehicle or other helicopter in the vicinity.

The rotor blades of the Gazelle had not stopped turning by the time Bond and Tanner were making their way through the gorse and bracken towards the grim mass of Murik Castle below. The early morning air was chill and clear, while the scents brought vivid memories back into Bond's head — of his first sight of the castle and of its deceptive interior, of the attempted escape, Murik's control room with its array of weapons, the East Guest Room and its luxurious decor, and the more unpleasant dankness of the twin torture chambers.

They carried no weapons, as instructed, though Bill Tanner had, rightly, managed to get hold of a pair of powerful torches. M had experienced difficulty with the keys, managing only to obtain those to the rear tradesmen's entrance, which, Duggan told him, was the only door left for access, the rest having been left with the electronic locks on.

It took over half an hour for the pair to get as far as the Great Lawn. Bond, silently making signals, took Tanner alongside the rear of the castle, the old keep rising above them like a dark brooding warning against the skyline. If Bond was right it would be from the helicopter pad behind the keep that Anton Murik would make his final visit to his castle; Warlock's Castle, as Bond now thought of it.

In spite of the place only having been empty for a short time, the air smelled musty and damp once they got inside the small tradesmen's door. Again, recent memories stirred. It was only a few days ago that Bond had been led through this very door and into MacKenzie's van, at the start of the long journey which had ended with a deadly rendezvous over the Mediterranean.

Now he had to find his way down to the Laird's control room and collection of weapons; for Bond was certainly not going to face Anton Murik without some kind of defence. For a while they blundered around by torchlight, until Bond finally led the way down to the long weapon-adorned room in the cellars. Even Bill Tanner gasped as they swung the torches around the walls replete with swords, thrusting weapons, pistols, muskets and rifles.

'Must be worth a fortune by itself,' whispered Tanner.

Bond nodded. They had, for some unaccountable reason, whispered throughout the journey down from the tradesmen's entrance, as though Murik and his henchmen might come upon them unawares at any moment. Outside dawn would just be breaking, streaking the sky. If Murik was going to make his dash for freedom he would either arrive soon, or they would still be waiting for him to come under the cover of nightfall. Bond was running his torch over the weapons when Tanner suddenly clutched at his arm. They stood, motionless, ears straining for a moment, then relaxed.

'Nothing,' said Tanner. Then, just as suddenly, he silenced Bond once more.

This time they could both hear the noise: from a long way off, up through the brick, stone and earth, the faint buzz of an engine.

'He's arrived.' Bond grabbed at the first thing he could lay hands on: a sporting crossbow, heavily decorated, but refurbished, with a thick taut cord bound securely to a metal bow, the well-oiled mechanism including a cranequin to pull back and latch the cord into place. Taking this and three sharp bolts which were arranged next to it, Bond motioned Tanner out of the room.

'Up to the hall,' he whispered. 'The light's not in his favour. He'll want to get hold of the stuff and be away fast. Pray God he'll take it all with him, and we can catch the bastard outside.'

There would be more chance in the open. Bond was sure of that. As they reached the hall, the noise of the descending helicopter became louder. It would be the little Bell Ranger, hovering and fluttering down behind the keep. Standing in the shadows, Bond strained his ears. If the pilot kept his engines running, 007 knew his theory would be right — that Murik planned to remain in the castle for only a short time, leaving quickly with whatever documents he had cached there. But if the engine was stopped, they would have to take him inside the building.

Somewhere towards the back of the house, there was the scratch and squeak of a door. Murik was entering the same way that Bond and the Chief-of-Staff had come, by the tradesmen's entrance. Thank heaven for Tanner, whose wisdom had cautioned the locking of the door behind them. There was a click and then the sound of footsteps moving surely, as a man will move in complete darkness when he knows his house with the deep intimacy of years. The steps were short and quick: unmistakable to Bond. Murik Warlock — was home again.