John Gardner - Man From Barbarossa

‘Pete?’ Bond’s head slowly came round towards the Mossad officer. ‘Pete, you’re telling us that the Penderek abduction was no mistake?’

‘I think whoever did it wanted us to believe it was a mistake.’

‘Any reason? Logic?’

‘Just a nasty, sneaky feeling. Gut reaction. Intuition. Maybe we in the Mossad have become cynical, or even paranoid. But I cannot believe in coincidence. The error in snatching Penderek is so obvious. I also have to admit I find the new development – the disappearance of the real Vorontsov – very disturbing. I suppose I’m really waiting to hear what KGB are after. Maybe that will give us a lead towards the truth. Perhaps you are ready to tell us now, sir.’ This last to M.

The Chief gave the impression of a man waking from a doze. ‘Yes, why not?’ He looked towards Natkowitz. ‘You know, I presume, KGB appear to be aware of your Service’s theory that the Chushi Pravosudia have lifted the wrong man?’

‘It doesn’t surprise me, sir.’ Natkowitz gave a little smile which Bond translated to mean that the Mossad had almost certainly dropped the information into Moscow Centre via some handy go-between. He also found it odd to hear M using the Russian term for the Scales of Justice .

‘The Kremlin,’ M pursed his lips as though he still found it difficult to believe they were on speaking terms with his Service’s old enemies, ‘are of a mind to turn down any idea of bringing Penderek to Russia, and trial. They haven’t announced it yet, but almost certainly will do so the minute you’re both in Moscow. Their reasons are going to be based on the information you have just given us. That it is the wrong man.’

Natkowitz nodded, once more signifying that this would be the sensible thing for them to do.

‘They feel that a refusal might well bring the Chushi Pravosudia into the open, and this is really where you come in. Moscow claim to have two members of the Chushi Pravosudia in custody. They are both male and both of British origin. They say the pair have been sweated and the sweat has produced interesting results.’

‘Do we know any more about these two?’ Bond’s brow creased.

‘Not a thing. The Foreign Office has not been informed of any British subjects missing, or detained, in Moscow or anywhere else. It’s under wraps, as our American cousins would say. The interesting thing is that Moscow believes the SoJ to be organised in non-intercognisant cells. The interrogation appears to have brought out a method of getting into the main Russian cell who are expecting a visit from two British members known only by cryptos.’

‘And they’re suggesting that Pete and I take the trip?’ Bond’s right eyebrow shot upwards.

M nodded like a wise old Buddha. ‘Mmmm,’ he said.

‘But somebody, with all due respect, sir, somebody within the main Russian cell will be able to make a physical identification, surely?’

‘Mmmmm.’ M again made the sound of a happy bee on a sunny afternoon. He seemed oblivious to the unspoken peril. Then, ‘I did warn you, 007. I did say that this was a mite dangerous. If you want out, you only have to say.’

‘I’d personally like to know the chances of success.’ Bond rarely minded putting his life or career on the line, but he preferred to know the odds.

M spread his hands. ‘If KGB are telling me the truth, and I have no real reason either to believe or disbelieve them, you’ll be monitored all the way. The idea appears to be that you’ll become stalking-horses. They will, I am promised, keep you under surveillance every inch of the journey.’

‘I’ve been known to throw KGB surveillance in the past.’

‘That you have, 007. But this time the trick will be to keep them with you.’ He turned to Natkowitz. ‘Are you willing to do this?’

‘I have little choice.’ Natkowitz did not look unhappy. ‘I volunteered in Tel Aviv. Once you do that in the Mossad, it is not wise to back down.’

‘James?’ M asked.

‘I have no choice either. Not really, sir, as you well know.’

‘Mmmmm.’ M again made his all purpose yes-no-maybe sound.

‘Is there a full briefing, sir? You said they wanted us quickly. Tonight?’

M took his time answering. Then, ‘I think we might have to keep them waiting a little longer.’ His head bowed towards the Scrivener. ‘Brian, here, has to make up some new idents for you. Can’t have you going into Russia on the Boldman identity; you’ve used it too often. Also, we’ve taken on the chore of providing papers for Mr Natkowitz . . .’ He frowned, catching his breath, the words left unsaid.

‘Something else, sir?’ Bond could see it in the Old Man’s eyes.

M nodded slowly. ‘As a matter of fact, yes. A minor something came up when we broke for Mr Natkowitz to call Tel Aviv. Could be nothing, on the other hand, it might just be an opportunity for the pair of you to begin working together. One evening should do it. That give you enough time, Scrivener?’

Cogger did not talk much. It was said he believed words entrapped people. He had done it so many times on, and with, paper that he seemed to have lost the art of conversation. He nodded and added a handful of words which indicated he would need a half-hour with Pete Natkowitz. ‘Photographs, that kind of thing.’

‘Right.’ M rubbed his hands together vigorously, like someone going out into a cold morning. ‘Now to something completely different, as they say. It appears that we have visitors in town, or so Five tell me. Usually when our brothers-in-arms from other counterterrorist agencies come into the country, they tell us first, that is with the exception of your boys, Mr Natkowitz, no offence meant.’

‘None taken, sir.’

‘Well, this one’s very odd. Two French officers arrived in London this morning. One is a fairly senior member of GIGN; the other, a woman, is a field officer attached to DGSE.’ 3

‘We know both of them,’ M continued. ‘Henri Rampart, a major, and part of their quick deployment team, is a tough bird by any standard, a Russian speaker and no stranger to that country. The young woman, and she is young, 007, turns out to be Stephanie Adoré.’ He gave another of his tight-lipped smiles. ‘That’s also her real name, not some crypto thought up by whoever runs PR for DGSE. She spent two years as head of the French Moscow station. Also served in the Middle East, I . . .’

‘Not a couple getting away for a little fling, sir?’ Bond asked with an innocent deadpan face.

‘Contrary to the rumours spread abroad by novelists, and possibly yourself, 007, most intelligence and security services do not encourage interservice affairs. No, Rampart is happily married, and Ms Adoré, though attractive, has an exceptional record.’

‘Visit to their embassy, perhaps?’ Bond tried again.

‘No. There’s a strange connection. Neither of them have been in touch with the embassy. They arrived on different flights, Ms Adoré using a field identity, Charlotte Hironde, Rampart, the name Henri Rideaux. They are both staying, in separate rooms, 007, at the Hampshire, very expensive, off Leicester Square.’

‘So what’s the supposition, sir? Has it anything to do with Fallen Timbers ?’

‘We have no idea, but it would give you and Mr Natkowitz an opportunity to work together. Get to know each other’s handwriting as it were. Ms Adoré visited the GIGN compound outside Paris for two days last week. It looked to our people like some kind of briefing. From another source we have information that their files on the Scales of Justice travelled up to the GIGN compound for that briefing. This very firm intelligence, coupled with these officers’ particular skills and their knowledge of Russia, indicates that they might just be thinking of hopping over to Moscow on a jaunt.’