John Gardner - Seafire

"Oh, James. Two's company."

"Two's also what they'll be looking for. Tarn and his buddies regard us as a team, and it's a mighty small team if he's already becoming the accepted leader of a resurrected Nazi Party. That's exactly why I'm going on my own. One against many works better than two."

"Let me think about it, James. It's bad enough not being able to sing, shout, and tell the world about our private lives."

"You've been in this game long enough to know -"

"Of course I have, you idiot. I know you're right about that. I just don't want to let you out of my sight."

"My love, it would be most unsafe for you to come with me."

"I bet The Committee will hum-and-ha about it for so long that Max'll be in the Caribbean by the time you get the okay."

"We'll see about that."

"Just let me think." She wrapped her arms around him and in less than five minutes was asleep.

The ghosts of past loves began to float in and out of Bond's mind. Only once in his life had he been truly and intensely in love with a woman: Tracy di Vincenzo, murdered only a few hours after their marriage. With Fredericka the emotion was different, perhaps because of the love he had felt for Tracy. His feelings for Flicka seemed to him to be an entirely novel experience. She was also responsible for a deeper commitment from him – a mature understanding of what a man and woman could share: something that had little to do with sex, and much more concerned with their entire lives. Two people blending together as one.

Yet, in the early hours of that morning, the specters of other women seemed to gather in the room, as though telling him to rid himself of all the emotions he had once felt for them and make a new start with Fredericka von Grüsse.

Over the years many of his former lovers had remained more than simply fond memories from the past. He still regularly visited the cemetery at Royale-les-Eaux where Vesper Lynd lay at peace – the peace she had sought for so long. There were times when old dreams caught him unawares, sending pictures of once-loved girls and women skittering through his brain – the wild, almost tomboy Honeychile Ryder, with her broken nose and firm body; Domino Vitali, she of the slight limp and sensual mouth. More often than not the picture was faint, though the sensual memory was strong – a beloved Asian face swimming above him, and the voice, soft and tender, of Kissy Suzuki. Now all these past loves seemed to smile upon him in his happy, half-conscious state of a true obligation to Fredericka. Man and woman joined by the invisible but inescapable bond of love and duty, one to the other.

They arrived at the Home Office, refreshed in a new warmth to one another, happy but somber, at exactly nine o'clock. The Committee was assembled in its entirety but for M, who – Bill Tanner said – was as well as could be expected.

Bond sensed some hostility from the likes of Thickness, Ms. Smith, and Ms. Jameson, not to mention Commissioner Wimsey, but the other members seemed pleased enough to see him again. The Minister appeared neutral, though as ever he remained stiff and a shade cold.

Both Bond and Flicka made statements, which resulted in a general clamoring regarding the whereabouts of Tarn and his cohorts. There was little doubt that this final act of brutality had put fire under the bulk of the Committee members, and it was Wimsey who provided the possible clues.

Once more, right under everyone's noses, it seemed that the entire gang had flown out of Stanstead.

"I was under the impression that all ports and airports were under a red alert for the man." The Minister was more than chilly toward Wimsey, who countered that this time they had almost certainly left, in disguise, under new – probably forged – passports. Two of the men, presumably Tarn and Goodwin, had boarded a flight bound for Berlin, while the two women and several other men had almost certainly left as members of a tour group heading for Corfu. This last had only just emerged, and the tour company – WellRun Tours Ltd. – had been questioned.

"This particular company," Wimsey reported with a trace of sheepishness, "has admitted they were five places short of the full complement on their reasonably priced nine-day trip around the Greek islands. Late yesterday afternoon, they apparently jumped with joy when they received an inquiry about availability on any tour leaving Stanstead last night. It was a night flight, and the man who telephoned them had given a valid credit-card number for all five free places. They've been in touch with their guide in Corfu. Only one of the last-minute bookings reported to her at Corfu airport. A man – undoubtedly Spicer – told her they had been forced to return home immediately because of a family crisis. As yet we have not been able to check out what other flights they boarded, though two are thought to have gone on to Athens." He paused as if for applause. "My private theory is that they're heading to a prearranged meeting place in Europe."

Bond interrupted. As yet he had not mentioned the charred paper discovered at Hall's Manor. "I can tell you exactly where they are, for the next four nights at any rate."

This remark got everyone's attention very quickly, so he took them through the entire story.

"Then we get the German authorities to pick up the lot of them in Munich," the Minister snapped.

"I doubt if that would work, Minister," Bond told him quietly.

"Why in heaven not?"

"Well, Minister, to be fully truthful you'd probably get them arrested, though Germany isn't exactly cooperating with us at all levels at the moment. Arrested, they're of no further use to us. Arrest Tarn and those close to him and you charge him with murder, the others with being accomplices -"

"Then we can slap the other serious charges on them when your department's fully sorted out the papers and provided hard evidence. Nothing more simple."

"Maybe, Minister, but there're still loose ends to be tied up. I would like The Committee to grant me one more request."

"We've already given you one hell of a lot of leeway, Bond," Wimsey began.

"With respect, Commissioner, I think that if you grant my new request, it'll save a lot of time in the long run."

"Get on with it, then, Captain Bond. What're you suggesting? That we allow you to go charging to Munich and dash in with guns blazing?"

Bond paused, looking around the long table, taking in the reactions of every member of The Committee, capturing each person's eyes briefly with his own almost accusatory stare. "Please correct me if I'm wrong," he began, his eyes still roving around the various members and noting that, while M and the Director General of the Security Service were absent, it was the latter organization that was represented by three people. His own old service had only Bill Tanner as its delegate, and he was wearing the Secretary's hat as well as being M's deputy.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he repeated. "My understanding of the rules and regulations of MicroGlobe One, the watchdog committee over my department, state that the Minister and one other member can recommend a course of action being taken over short-range activities. If the Minister rubber-stamps some action, he is not required to give an entire quorum of The Committee the details of that action.

"But must do so after four days of the recommendation," the Minister barked.

"After four days, yes," Bond agreed. "Therefore, I would like a meeting, in camera, with the Minister and the representative from the Intelligence Service – now." He knew that he was well within his rights, and as he left the room with Tanner and the Minister, he tried to avoid the pleading eyes of Flicka von Grüsse, who had more than a glimmer of an idea regarding what he was going to ask.