John Gardner - Seafire

"Our modest sleeping quarters." Fritz had the distinct trace of a squashed mid-European accent.

"Modest indeed." Vesta Motley came forward to greet them. "I have the best bedroom I've ever had in the whole of my life. I do hope you don't mind this buffet thing I've thrown together." The cut-glass British accent clashed heavily with Rexinus's American.

"Just what we'd have chosen for ourselves," Bond said gallantly. In the depth of his heart he could have done with a really good dinner tonight, but he figured that beggars could not be choosers.

Vesta Motley did not appear to have any of the social graces. They had hardly entered the living quarters when she started to pour wine and asked them to "Dig in, chaps," which made Bond wince and Flicka stifle a snort of laughter.

While they moved around, eating and drinking, they tried to chip away at the job the trio of scientists were doing for Max Tarn. To give credit, Rexinus himself tried to explain the theory behind what he referred to as "an automatic anti-oil pollution system – AAOPS for short," but the concept was daunting, and they really were none the wiser by the time he had finished.

Eventually, Bond nodded to Felix, who, they had agreed, would set things in motion. "Well, folks," he began, using the same old Texas cowboy manner that he had kept up all evening. "I fear we've brought you some disturbing and almost certainly dangerous news."

The three scientists looked at him as though he were quite mad.

"What kind of news?" Rexinus did not laugh.

"You haven't yet been able to get any instructions from Tarn International in London?"

"We told you that last night. Since Sir Max's death we aren't getting any answers at all. It's like the whole organization has died with him."

"Max Tarn isn't dead." It was Bond who exploded the bombshell.

"Isn't… But…?"

"Worse still to come," Flicka said softly.

"The man is wanted for a number of quite heinous crimes, I fear." Back to Felix. "Murder is probably the least important. He's wanted for weapons running on a huge scale. I don't mink we need to go into the complete story now, but you have to believe us, he's very dangerous, has firepower of his own – they travel with him usually – and we expect him in Puerto Rico any day."

Flicka finished it off: "The really amusing thing about him is that he thinks he's the Nazi Messiah, and it appears that a zillion or so German far-right groups believe him."

"Oh, my God!" from Vesta.

"Who the hell are you, with these idiotic stories?" Rexinus had possibly given up laughing for a long time, and his face became even more grave as Felix showed them his own credentials and introduced Bond and Flicka in their true identities.

"We're going to suggest that you pull out of Puerto Rico tonight," Bond told them. "You can always make for Miami or somewhere, and Felix can organize protection for you. Really you are in the gravest danger. Max Tarn will brook no explanations. I doubt if he'll even listen when you tell him the AAOPS won't work. The man thinks he's above any laws, natural, man-made, or scientific. Tell him your original concept doesn't work and he'll tell you that's nonsense. Also, we believe that he's all set to show your invention off to the world, and we think his planned display will cause many problems – including death on a fairly grand scale."

"I don't believe it." Rexinus seemed to be standing his ground. "This is some kind of trick."

"Wish it were, friend," from Felix.

"Rex." Flicka dropped her voice slightly, an old artifice used to gain everyone's attention. "Rex, please, listen to us. Max Tarn is very dangerous, and when he gets here he'll bring some of his playmates. They're an ugly bunch. I'm pleading with you. Get out while there's time. Let us deal with him. Us and the local authorities."

"You mean this, don't you?" Vesta looked quite bewildered.

"I've never been so certain of anything in my life. These are truly perilous people."

Suddenly, Bond quietly called for silence.

"What…?" Rexinus began, then they heard the call from above.

"Ahoy there. Ahoy, Dr. Rexinus. Permission to come aboard. It's your admiral. Where the devil are you?"

They all recognized the voice. Max Tarn called again, "I'm coming on board. Rexinus! Fritz! Ms. Motley! I've brought a few friends to see how you're getting on."

"Out," Bond whispered. "Grab your plates and get through into the sleeping quarters." He was talking to Felix and Flicka. "Keep him out of the for'ard part of the ship, and don't commit yourselves to anything." He opened the door, and Flicka was close behind him. Felix stayed where he was.

"Felix. Quickly, man."

"Thought I'd stay on and see if I can talk any sense into the man." His eyes were hard, and Bond knew there was no way he could even begin to argue with the American.

"Permission to come aboard, damn you, Rexinus." Tarn was at the top of the companion way. As he began to descend, Flicka closed the door behind her and slipped the lock.

They leaned against the door, hardly daring to breathe, listening intently to the conversation from the main cabin.

"Ah, so there you are, Dr. Rex. I've been calling for what seems like hours, but no harm done. Brought some friends to meet you."

"Sir Max, what a… But how…? I mean…"

"As someone else once said, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Maurice Goodwin you know, I think. But you certainly haven't met my heavenly twins, Cathy and Anna. There, say hello to the nice Dr. Rexinus, and Anton Fritz, and we mustn't forget the lovely Ms. Motley." Then he raised his voice: "Connie, stay up there and don't let anyone else come aboard."

There was the faint sound of Connie Spicer's voice, then the shuffle of movement as Tarn and his three companions began settling themselves.

"Sir Max, it's…" Rexinus began.

"I shall do the talking for the time being, Doctor. First, you seem to be having a nice little party. Are you not going to introduce me to your guest? A glass of wine wouldn't come amiss either."

"Certainly. I'm sorry. Mr. Felix Leiter, from Texas. Sir Max Tarn."

"From London, I guess." Felix raised his voice slightly, trying, Bond thought, to push up the levels of everyone's speech.

"You guess correctly, Mr. Leiter, though I'm not simply confined to London. I regard myself as an international citizen. I've heard that name before, somewhere. Leiter. No, Felix Leiter, I've seen it in print."

"I doubt it, Sir Max, I'm just an old Texas cowboy."

"And I doubt that, Mr. Leiter."

"Well, I owned the cows, and there were quite a lot of them."

"Really? Well, I fear that you've accepted an invitation to come aboard Mare Nostrum at a very inconvenient time."

"Oh, gee, well, I can make myself scarce. I'll leave now. Y'all get on with your party." There was a shifting sound as Felix got to his feet.

"No!" Max Tarn barked. "You have a limp, and a prosthetic arm. A leg and an arm."

"Sounds like you're a kinda Sherlock Holmes, Sir Max."

"Hardly. Now I think I recall where I read about you. You're a friend of a friend of mine. A Mr. James Bond. You were also once a member of the American Intelligence Service. Oh, Mr. Leiter, I fear you've fallen among thieves, and I think you'd better stick around."

"Whatever your fancy, Sir Max. But I guess you've been reading the wrong books. I don't recall anyone by the name of Bond. Knew a fella from Houston called Bind, and another one who hailed from Dallas, name of Band. Big Jim Band, but no Bonds – except on the stock market, of course."

Tarn laughed unpleasantly and told Cathy to watch Felix. "This is a live one, Cath. We're going to have to take him into custody and keep him safe until SeaFire's over."