John Gardner - Seafire

"You took Connie out?" Bond's tone was one of admiration.

"We kind of incapacitated him." Cathy did her roguish smile.

"Let's say he won't be satisfying any ladies for a while. Yet, knowing Connie, he's probably able to hobble around by now."

"Trish, I'm sorry." Bond was searching for the right words, not quite certain that he understood the complete subtext of what she had told him. "Are you saying that Max has Fascist tendencies?"

This time her laugh was not bitter, but one of genuine amusement, and it was echoed by chuckles from Anna and Cathy.

"James," she said finally. "No, Max does not have Fascist tendencies. I thought you'd already know. In fact, I really believed that was why you're after him. Max Tarn is not just another Fascist. Max Tarn thinks of himself as the Nazi Messiah. He's the reincarnation of Hitler, Himmler, Goebbels – you name them, he is it. The whole arms-dealing thing has been a means to an end. Stage one in his comeback. Weapons poured into the wrong hands over the past couple of decades have been for one reason: the complete destablization of Europe – if not the world. He danced – really danced – with joy when the Berlin Wall came down. When the news came through he actually said, 'My time is now near. The destruction of the Wall will bring all true Nazis into the open. By the time I am ready, they'll respond to me just as those in the 1930s responded to the Führer.'"

He tried to disguise his horror and fascination. "And he let you walk away when you told him about your Jewish blood?"

There was a pause before Trish said, "It's not quite as easy as that, James. Like the Nazi leaders of old, he has that uncanny knack of being able to double-think. After the first few years of our marriage I realized that he really regarded me as a showpiece. He just may be able to ignore the tiny bit of Jewish blood in my veins. Max has a terribly long reach. He can probably find me and have me hauled back, though I think his hands're pretty full at the moment."

"Like the Nazis who turned a blind eye to Jews they needed in order to function?"

"Exactly. Do you know that Hitler was always aware that the gravediggers within the Nazi kingdom were Jews? They didn't touch them because they were necessary. Certain people are necessary to Max, and I might be one of them." She gave her head a little shake, as though trying to get rid of some nightmare. "Let me give you another instance. He owns – that's the right word, owns – an African-American girl who happens to be a junkie. He talks to her using the most appallingly racist language. That is when he's forced to go anywhere near her. But he tolerates her because she is an assassin who takes a pride in her work. Orders are given to her by either Connie or Goodwin, because, while they're loyal to Max, they do not really have the same scruples about being near her. When he's around, he makes certain she keeps to her own quarters. If she has to be in the entourage, he makes sure she travels in a different car."

"What's her name?"

"Beth. I don't know any other name for her. Everyone calls her Beth. That's it."

"But, Trish, I gather he claims lineage with the von Tarn family -"

"I don't think he needs to just claim lineage. I think it's genuine. But…"

"But the Nazis are supposed to have murdered his family."

"A family that, over the years, he's come to despise."

"I see." The shock of these latest revelations was just starting to bite home.

"Max is powerful, James. Don't ever doubt that. He is a very dangerous beast."

"You wouldn't happen to know where he is now?" Bond made it sound so casual that it almost went unnoticed, but he saw Anna stir and flash a look toward Cathy.

"He could be checking in downstairs, for all I know."

Trish's hand went up to her hair for the first time since they had been in the room, fingers splayed, raking deeply into the thick soft forest. "But I don't think so. What you're really asking me is where you can go and pick him up, yes?"

Bond leaned forward. "I can offer you safety, Trish."

"Oh, please." She laughed. "You cannot offer me safety until you have him six feet under. He has an army out there."

"Trish," Flicka took over, "we can give you some safety. We can get you out of Jerusalem first thing in the morning. Once we have you in England we're certain we can keep you safe. You and the girls."

"The girls can always look after themselves, but, yes, I'd like them around for a while."

"Then you'll come with us?"

"I've nowhere else to go, and Max will know I'm here. Even Connie will have it figured out. Yes. Okay, take me to London and squirrel me away where none of Max's people can get their hands on me. What's in it for you?"

"Your safety, Trish," from Bond. "Your safety, and cooperation."

"You have my cooperation in any case. You want to know where Max is? Okay, I can tell you where I think he'll be, if he's not on the way here to take me back by force."

"Is that a possibility?"

"Always, but I don't think he has much time to come chasing me at the moment."

"So if he's not on his way here…?"

"Well, maybe not yet, but eventually he'll end up in the Caribbean."

"Playing with his toy cruise ships?"

She gave a tired smile, and the pain showed through again. "He has two main operating bases, both of them really sewn up. Seville is one. Being an inland port, it's useful. He paid a lot of people not to ask too many awkward questions, so many of his container ships pass through Seville. The other port he uses is San Juan."

"And he has that one closed up as well?"

"Pretty much. He also owns some property there. We have a suspicion that he stashes cargo away on Puerto Rico and that is where he plans to become a world hero." That "we" included the girls, for she waved her arm in their direction, and both Cathy and Anna nodded in agreement. "We think he owns warehouses, and other little bits of real estate, and he's spread money around the place as though cash is going out of fashion."

"So he runs a complex operation from two distinct bases. One in Europe, the other in the Caribbean, where he has some kind of ace up his sleeve?"

"That's about the size of it. His merchant bank launders the money, I should imagine."

"You imagine correctly. We're getting that sorted out. There's a great deal of evidence, and we're putting the financial side together now."

"He said that part could never be broken." Cathy had gone back into one of me other rooms and brought another bottle of Dom Perignon. "In Seville, I heard him say that his banks were a hundred percent foolproof."

"It would've taken until doomsday if it hadn't been for Peter Dolmech."

Anna stirred. "You said he was dead."

"He left us a little legacy. A map of the laundry, so to speak."

There was a short pause, during which Trish and the girls did not look at each other. Then Trish broke the silence. "Poor Peter. At least he did something worthwhile before he died. Max trusted him absolutely, and I would never have thought he was the spy in the camp."

"You suspected a spy?"

"No, but Max did. He was paranoid about it. Always changing procedures, and playing games to trap people. Though he never did – trap anyone, that is."

"Well, he did more than trap Dolmech, and he almost destroyed the information." He went on to describe what had happened in Seville, leaving out the most gory of the details.

Again there was a silence. A pause that went on a shade too long. Trish Nuzzi once more put a hand to her hair, then quietly said that she was sorry but she really had to lie down. "Doctor Hartman saw to it that my nose and jaw were fixed," she added as a kind of afterthought.

"So Max'll eventually end up in the Caribbean. Where else might he be?"