John Gardner: Seafire

The refit and refurbishing of Caribbean Prince had cost millions, but it was done with care, turning the ship into a floating art-deco palace, outfitted with the latest in comfort and luxury. The basic interior had been virtually taken apart. First, the cabins on the main deck, and the two decks below that, were ripped out. In their place was a mall of glittering shops, a new theater with state-of-the-art equipment, a cinema, a beautiful indoor pool and saunas – complementing the newly enlarged pool up on the sun deck – and four luxury lounges.

Now Caribbean Prince only catered for around seventy passengers, whose large and beautiful staterooms all ran along the promenade deck, each stateroom being a small suite, complete with bathrooms that contained both shower and Jacuzzi. In its new, sumptuous state, Caribbean Prince started its series of fourteen-day cruises in December 1992. By late February of '94, she was showing a healthy profit, with her passengers paying up to almost three or four hundred percent more than people who took their seven-day vacations on the massive liners.

Tarn Cruise Lines – like the other small and particularly exclusive cruise lines in which individual millionaires invested – had made a huge profit out of the venture. Like everything else in big business, it had been a gamble, but the famous Max Tarn had banked on there still being people around who were prepared to pay anything for a different – even snobbish – kind of holiday.

Obviously that was why Caribbean Prince had been a ripe target. Passengers of that kind came on board with a lot of valuables, while some even brought small fortunes to play at being high rollers at the gaming tables.

The excitement of the attempted robbery did not die down for a long time. Those who had handed over much in the way of precious jewels, money, and credit cards retrieved their property, and Bond and Flicka were soon the center of attention. In the main bar, they could have been drunk for nothing for the rest of the journey. But, in the event, there was no further journey.

The explosion took place shortly after eleven, ripping out two plates under the waterline, flooding one of the crew mess decks, and causing several injuries.

That Caribbean Prince did not heel over and begin to sink immediately said much for its overall design, and the standard of building in the Italian shipyards where she had been launched in 1970.

Just before the incident, James Bond and Fredericka von Grüsse had slipped away from the bar, looking for some solitude.

They leaned close against the guardrail, aft on the sun deck, surrounded by a velvet night, watching the boiling plume of white water scarring the dark sea behind them.

"Well, at least that was different." Flicka leaned her head on his shoulder. "Old Sir Max Tarn has cleverly turned a potential loss into a big business gain, but this won't do his publicity much good."

"The point is," Bond said quietly, "Tarn was, rightly, convinced that there were people out there who would still pay a lot of money to go on exclusive cruises. Others have done it, but have you noticed how the program is so carefully chosen? A new show in the theater every other night, with big-name entertainers, while everywhere we've visited has been on days when no other cruise ship is in port – Jamaica, Curaçao, Venezuela, Barbados, Martinique, Puerto Rico, St. Thomas. Not another cruise ship in sight. No other crowds of tourists…"

"James." She held up a hand to stop him. "James, we had enough of that kind of talk during the courses, and the fine print of economics isn't really you, darling." Flicka turned, smiling up at him.

The courses of which she spoke had lasted for a little over a year. They included such relatively dull subjects as Accountancy (With Special Reference to Fraud); Fraudulent Conversion; Methods of Gathering Financial Intelligence from Offshore Banking; Smuggling and Laundering Money; Breaches in International Arms Control; Monitoring Illegal Arms Controls in the '90s; The Role of Terrorist Organizations Concerning Finance and Illicit Arms Shipments, together with other such allied subjects, like large-scale drug and art smuggling.

Officers of the British Intelligence and Security Services bemoaned these subjects as a far cry from the training sessions they had undergone during the Cold War, only to be quickly reminded that the Cold War was over. Now they were engaged in what might be called a Tepid War: one in which even their allies were suspect, and their former enemies required watching like viruses under a microscope.

Of the twenty-eight men and women who took the series of courses, only twelve were considered suitable following a rigorous amount of testing. James Bond was one of these, while, to his delight, Flicka was another.

Fredericka von Grüsse, formerly of Swiss Intelligence, had worked with Bond on the case concerning the infamous Dragonpol, and both of them had run foul of the Swiss authorities. Therefore, when the last strings had been tied on the Dragonpol business, Bond had been as surprised as Flicka when M offered her a place in the British Service. He was also astounded at the warm way M had accepted the fact that they were living together. This last was definitely out of character. Perhaps, they thought, the Old Man was desperately trying to keep in step with the times. Even possibly clinging to the office that he held, though everybody knew that his days as chief of that particular service were numbered.

When the courses were completed and the reorganization explained – in an exhaustive briefing – Bond and Flicka took a couple of weeks' leave with M's blessing.

"You're both going to need it," the old Chief told them gruffly. "If this new Double-Oh Section is going to work properly, you might get no more leave for a long time."

The new Double-Oh Section bore no resemblance to the old department of that name, which, at one time, included a license to kill.

The Two Zeros, as the newly organized section came to be known and which was now under Bond's command, consisted of highly trained men and women who could act as a troubleshooting group, dealing with cases concerning breach of international law and treaties that had a bearing on intelligence and security matters.

Two Zeros could be invited into a case by either the Intelligence or Security Service, or even the police. They were answerable not to their old Chief, M, but to a watch committee, dubbed MicroGlobe One, which consisted of the chiefs of both the Intelligence and Security Services, their deputies, a senior commissioner of police, and a new Government Minister who held the ambiguous title of Minister of Related Home and Foreign Affairs – an idiot-title that had come in for much ribaldry from the press. Nobody had missed the fact that this relatively small office was basically run by the government, for the government. The Double-Oh Section was not a nonpartisan organization – like the Intelligence and Security Services – divorced from the center of political power.

Bond smiled sheepishly. "You're right there, Fredericka." He held her close, his face tilted as if to kiss her. "You have enjoyed this bit of extra-expensive luxury, though, haven't you?"

"Of course I have. You made a good choice, James. Wouldn't mind doing this for a honeymoon. I even quite enjoyed the little set-to this evening. Quite like the old days." This last remark was delivered with a twinkling smile.

"Talking about the old days, I think we can find more excitement in our stateroom."

"Mmmmm." She nodded enthusiastically.

Bond and Flicka were just turning away, heading for their stateroom, when the ship shuddered and lifted as the explosion ripped through the metal plates on her starboard side.