John Gardner - Never send flowers

As he entered her, she let out a little cry of pleasure, rough at the back of her throat: the sound of somebody parched who sees a means to the slaking of thirst. For a second, he saw the face of someone else, long lost, instead of Fredericka, then it was gone as her own face and body worked a particular magic.

Neither of them heard the door to the sitting-room click open, nor the soft tread of the person who crossed in front of their door, for, by then, for a short time, the bedroom had become a raft adrift and far from land.

Then, with no warning, Bond softly put his hand over Fredericka's mouth.

`Wha ?` she began, but he called out loudly, `Who's there?" From the sitting-room a woman's voice, embarrassed, said, `The maid, sir.

I'm sorry, I thought you might want me to make up the room.

`No. No, that's all right." He smiled at Fredericka, pulling a face.

`That could have been very embarrassing,' he whispered. `I'd better go through and put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign." `If you have to. Bt be quick about it or I'll start again without you.

He went through into the sitting-room, put out the sign and slipped the night chain on to the door.

On his way back he saw his briefcase and, for safety's sake, carried it into the bedroom. In the back of his mind something nagged at him. The maid's voice. He thought that he had heard that voice before but could not identify it.

He put the briefcase down at the end of the bed, not knowing that the damage had already been done.

Later, Fredericka ploughed furrows down his back with long splayed hands, leaving deep scratches, and they moved together, alone. For a long time nobody else existed but the two of them, as they blotted out darker dreams and deeper horrors.

CHAPTER FIVE

LITTLE PINK CELLS

Bond's eyes snapped open, and he became alert, just before the telephone made its soft purring sound, heralding the wake-up call he had ordered for six a.m. He reached out, picked up the telephone and, after two or three seconds of listening, began to chuckle.

He was used to being wakened by recorded voices which, in most hotels, have now replaced the more personal touch of a real human being telling you it is six 0 clock in the morning, that the weather is good, bad or indifferent, and hoping that you will have a nice day.

Certainly, the wake-up call at the Victoria-Jungfrau was a recorded message, but with elaborations that could only be Swiss.

There was the tinkle of a music box through which girls' voices faded in and out, wishing the listener `Good Morning' in German, French, Italian, Dutch, Spanish, English, Japanese and as far as he knew, Urdu.

This elaborate mixture certainly caught your attention, and he listened to it for a full minute before cradling the receiver, and gently shaking Fredericka's naked shoulder.

Gradually, with many protests, she woke up, blinked a couple of times, and then gave him a long, pleased smile a cat-who `d-licked-the-cream look, which Bond realized was probably being reflected in his own face.

She wanted only coffee for breakfast `preferably intravenously' so he dialled room service and ordered a large pot of coffee, with whole wheat toast.

As soon as he replaced the receiver the message light began to blink: a fax, they said, had come in from England overnight. He instructed them to send it up immediately. Within minutes, a porter was at the door, handing him a sealed envelope.

He read the message, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the crested towelling robe. The fax was short and to the point: `Identification positive.

Send original immediately by courier." It was signed `Mandarin', the highest priority crypto used by M, which meant the Old Man wanted Bond to go through a courier routine involving two telephone calls to Geneva, and being physically present when the messenger arrived to pick up the letter.

Still naked, Flick draped herself over his shoulder.

`Anyone ever tell you it was rude to read other people's mail?" He glanced back at her.

`Sure, but does a fax constitute mail? You can pluck those things straight off the telephone lines; they've all read it downstairs at reception, hoping it would contain something juicy - -` `And it doesn't.

`Well, in a way it does. Laura wrote the letter.

What's your courier service like?" Bond playfully slapped her hand away.

`Wouldn't you like to know? Come to think of it you probably do, you Swiss being so efficient." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and gave him a wicked little wink. `Actually you use the same little man as the French Mr Hesk in Geneva. We've often thought that could be terribly leaky." He pushed her back on to the bed, holding her down under his hard body, kissing her eyes, and then her mouth. Before matters could again get completely out of hand, a knock at the outer door signalled the arrival of breakfast.

They sat opposite one another, not speaking, she sipping cup after cup of strong black coffee, he admitting, grudgingly, to himself that the egg was almost, but not quite, done as he liked it.

Eventually, Fredericka spoke.

`I'm not usually like this.

`Like what?" `Oh, I suppose, easy.

`I didn't think you were. The chemistry was right, and it was a night to remember.

Outstanding. A night to dream about." `That's true. You were outstanding. Can we do it again some time?" `I was banking on it. I always try to bank on things in Switzerland." He smiled at her, their eyes meeting. Again, he had that familiar sense of being able to drown and lose himself in the green depths of her eyes. Quickly he shook himself out of the mood, saying he had to organize the courier.

He brought the briefcase through from the bedroom, but when he came to operate the security locks he was surprised to find that they were already set to the correct eight-digit code.

`I could have sworn. .` he began, knowing that he had automatically set the tumblers after sending last night's fax. It was something he always did without thinking, like breathing, yet, for a moment, he had second thoughts.

Swiftly, he clicked the locks open and raised the case's lid.

Everything appeared normal until he opened the small buff folder into which he had put the original letter. It was empty: Laura March's bizarre unaddressed, and unmailed, message to `David' her `lover and brother' was as though it had never been.

`Something wrong, darling?" Fredericka sat at the small table, looking at him with an expression of innocence that strangely worried him.

`You tell me?" he asked, unsmiling.

`What is it?" `I said, you tell me, Fredericka. There were only two of us in this suite last night. You saw me lock my briefcase. I slept like a proverbial log..

`So did I, eventually." The ghost of a smile on her lips and a touch of bewilderment in her eyes.

`You sure you didn't go sleepwalking?" `I don't know what you mean." `Then I'll tell you. I put the March letter in this case last night. I then locked it, using a sequence that even,my masters in London don't know. Now, s carefully unlocked it, and the letter is gone." `But.. `But, apart from me, you're the only person who could have done it, Fredericka. Come on, if you're playing games for your bosses, it would be better to tell me now. Save any further accusations and unpleasantness.

`I don't know what you mean! James, I was with you all night.

Surely you know that. Why would I want to...?" `I have no idea as to why, but you're the only possible suspect." She slowly rose from the table. `Then you're crazy, James. I didn't touch your bloody briefcase, and if you're implying that I invited you into my bed simply to steal something, then ... Oh, hell, what's the use? I never touched the bloody case." In a second her attitude changed from warm and loving to an ice-cold anger. Red patches appeared on her cheeks as she turned and walked quickly towards the bedroom. `I suggest you examine other possibilities, James. Also you can find another woman to brighten your nights." The door slammed behind her, leaving Bond kneeling beside the briefcase.