John Gardner - Seafire

Bond reflected that he had crossed swords with them on relatively minor matters before this. Their presence only suggested a clash of wills over Tarn.

"At last." The Minister sounded more than a shade sarcastic. "The prodigal returns."

"Where in blazes have you been, Bond?" from Thickness.

"Trying to find Tarn, if you really want to know. I'd forgotten that The Committee owned me."

"In many ways we do own you, Bond. Things have changed. As for Tarn, that's the latest break. The man's back in this country. We have proof positive." The Minister signaled to Bill Tanner, who went over to a large-screen television with a built-in VCR and slipped a tape into the machine.

"The soft route, via Dublin, late yesterday afternoon," Jane Smith said by way of introduction. The tone of her voice suggested that Bond should actually have been present.

The screen cleared to show the long corridor up to the baggage-collection area in Terminal One at Heathrow. Some seventy people straggled past the immigration officer and the one man from the Security Service who always manned the desk at the entrance to the baggage carousels.

No chances are taken with flights coming in from Dublin. Normally a bus picks up the passengers and brings them straight into the terminal, where they are herded through a one-way door. Like sheep, they are forced to pass this checkpoint. It is rare for anyone to be stopped. Security cameras double-check the passengers, and arrests sometimes take place as they go through customs. In other cases, a "face" – which is Security Service language for a suspected criminal or terrorist – is quietly followed. The system is reckoned to be foolproof, though sometimes it is just proof of fools.

There, large as life and twice as natural, walking calmly into the baggage-collection area, came Max Tarn. In the distance the camera picked up Maurice Goodwin and Connie Spicer, followed by a muscular, fit-looking black girl in jeans, white shirt, and a fashionable vest. Without knowing exactly why, Bond suddenly realized that this was Beth, the girl who had met them in the dark at Hall's Manor – the girl whom Trish had called an assassin.

"Thinks he's bloody omnipotent." There was a growl in Jane Smith's voice. Bond could only think of Trish Nuzzi's remark about Tarn being a victim of folie de grandeur .

"So we've got them boxed in?" he asked.

There was a slight shuffling of feet and the odd cough.

"Unhappily, our people lost them." Thickness did not even look distressed. "They were picked up again, in London." The Security Service officer seemed to imagine they were all involved in some game.

Wimsey cleared his throat. "My officers, together with members of the Security Service, moved in, but I fear the whole bunch got away again."

"Whereabouts in London?"

"A flat behind Harrods. It's owned by Tarn; nothing but the best for him."

"And have you ID'd the black girl yet?"

"What black girl?" Judy Jameson from Security asked sharply.

He made them rerun the tape and pointed out the girl following Goodwin and Connie Spicer.

"We didn't even make her. Who do you think she is?" from Thickness, who seemed to have lost his casual attitude toward the situation.

"The one called Beth who was at Hall's Manor."

"Ah. Better put her on the list, then."

"Talking of Hall's Manor, not everything's lost…" The Minister tried to sound cheerful. "We have one other piece of interesting information. As you know, Bond, we were running a check on the Manor."

Bond nodded. His gut reaction to all this was not good. Something was badly wrong.

The Minister continued. "It appears that the last remaining member of the Hall family finally relented. The whole estate – a thousand acres and the house – was sold off in January: bought by a firm that calls itself Bulwark Real Estate."

"Don't tell me." Bond leaned back in his chair. "Bulwark is a subsidiary of Tarn International."

"Got it in one." The Minister sounded very pleased.

"So you're all banking on Tarn going up to that ruin?"

"I think it's a natural assumption."

"You do, sir? The place is falling down. It's also right out in the open. You had no idea that Tarn owned a flat in Knightsbridge, so, for all we know, he could have a dozen bolt holes here in London."

"I think not." Jane Smith sounded smug. "One of Commissioner Wimsey's units came back to us – a little late, I admit – with the information that a car traced to Tarn had been spotted on the M11."

"What exactly do you mean by 'a little late'?"

"It was a borderline speeding case. They took the reg, then recognized it when my people sent out the details," Wimsey blustered. "Called in straightaway."

"So let me rephrase my former question. You all know Tarn is going up to that ruin?"

"Indeed." The Minister spoke in the kind of voice used by schoolmasters who will brook no argument. The Pontius Pilate voice, as Bond called it – "What I have written, I have written."

"Well, I presume you have people surrounding Hall's Manor at the moment?"

"No. We have one man. Security brought him in from the SAS. He's very good, and they got him in and hidden by late last night. If Tarn shows up there, we'll know within seconds."

The Minister smiled benevolently, as though he had already trapped Max Tarn single-handed.

"Why would a man like Tarn risk coming back into the country with half his entourage, sir?" Bond asked quietly, knowing there could be no clear answer. "He came in clean, no attempt at hiding his identity. Now, I believe that he's got something going which he reckons will be a boon to society, and he'll risk anything to see it through. I haven't a clue as to what it is. But I do know that politically he's slightly to the right of Adolf Hitler and Genghis Khan. People like that often truly think they're invincible. Only a fool or a zealot would walk into the country so brazenly. The question is, why did he come back?"

"Must be something important." The Minister coughed, then frowned when he realized that he had made an obvious statement.

"And you believe he's at Hall's Manor?"

"What else can I believe? The man can't run far."

"Can't he? I think he can probably run us all off our feet. To come into Heathrow as he did means that he knows the score: knows how we operate with suspects. He came in to lead us on some merry dance, sir. I'd put money on it."

"Nobody's asking you to put money on it."

"No, but I would. He's here either to get something or deal with unfinished business, and he wants us to know about it. You think you lost him by chance? No, sir. This man's obsessive. He's been arming renegade armies, selling death to terrorists, providing arms and means to countries and organizations who will use the weapons – and not in any good cause, either. He's a world-class political loose cannon, sir. He's also a man who rarely takes chances. I repeat, he wanted you to know he was here, so he'll also probably let you know when he's left."

"So you don't think he'll be heading for Hall's Manor?" It was a rhetorical question.

"He could well be going straight there, sir. But I don't think it wise to have only one man waiting for him…"

"That was a conscious decision, Captain Bond. One that wasn't made lightly. We agreed that one trained member of the SAS would be able to give us radio information very quickly and without being detected."

"And you've got a whole troop of SAS people sitting a few miles away so that they can go in and get him?"

"We have armed police and security officers on standby. They can be there in a matter of thirty minutes."

" If that's where he's heading."

"Every policeman in the country, every security officer, every airport and seaport is on the alert for him. He's in, and it's up to us to be sure that he doesn't get out."