John Gardner - Never send flowers

`You make sure they've done a thorough job." M was not to be put off. `And you make certain that their coroner releases the body to you.

`And I bring the unfortunate lady home?" `That's about the size of it." `And if I pick up any clues as to the circumstances of her death?" `You report your findings to me." M made a small dismissive gesture, indicating that, as far as he was concerned, the meeting was over.

`Sir, might I ask some questions of our friends here?" If he were going to be used as a detective, he had to conduct himself as such.

`If you must. Bond nodded, turning to face Grant and Chantry.

`His March worked in Terrorist Intelligence. Was she involved in any particular operation? Dealing with one particular group?" Grant shifted in his chair, pausing just a fraction too long for Bond's comfort. `She worked the whole spectrum,' he said eventually. `And she knew her business. Familiar with all the most visible groups from the IRA to the Middle East. .

`She had an incredible memory." His Chantry had a slightly husky voice, very attractive and, Bond decided, very sexy. He took a closer look at the young woman as she spoke. `Laura always knew who, among known terrorists, was in the United KIngdom at any given time." `She knew those who had been spotted coming in,' Grant interrupted quickly.

`Yes, she did retain the information from the daily reports the sightings by our people at airports and other entry points." Bond grunted, he was still appraising His Chantry. At first sight she had appeared to look somewhat schoolmarmish, dark hair pulled straight back from a high forehead and fastened in a bun at the nape of her neck, granny glasses, and a severe lightweight suit that did nothing for her figure. Now that Bond looked closely, he saw clearly that His Chantry seemed to be hiding her light under a bushel of little make-up, and a lot of austerity. Her large brown eyes looked steadily into his, and the curve of her thighs and breasts under the forbidding suit gave the impression of an exceptional body. Under an astringent exterior, His Chantry was probably all woman and then some.

`His March? Was she concerned about anyone in particular? I mean any one known terrorist in the country at this time?" he asked.

The two M15 officers both shook their heads.

`So, I presume,' Bond continued, `that you both worked quite closely with her?" `I am head of the Terrorist Intelligence Section." Grant sounded paradoxically superior and unhappy about revealing his exalted place in the scheme of the Security Service. `She reported to me. His Chantry is my number two, so, as such, was in contact with her on a daily basis.

Bond's instinct still told him there was a great deal missing from the simple answers. `And what about the other side of the coin? To your knowledge, did any of the terrorist groups know of her existence?" `Who can tell?" Grant shrugged. `We like to think that we're invisible, but your own service has had problems with penetration in the past, Captain Bond. None of us can be one hundred percent certain that we are not compromised." `If she had been compromised, is there any reason to believe that any one terrorist organization had a motive for taking her out?" `No!" It was His Chantry who replied, her voice rising, breaking, the single word coming out just a little too quickly.

`No! No, I really think you can rule that out.

`What about her private life?" `What about it?" Now Grant sounded almost aggressive, his forehead wrinkling belligerently.

`If she died an unnatural death, it could be of great importance.

`She kept herself to herself. Didn't talk much about her personal life,' from His Chantry, once more a shade fast and easy.

`What about positive vetting?" asked Bond, referring to the regular background checks on officers working in the twin labyrinths of intelligence and security. He cocked an eyebrow at Grant. `We still do positive vetting, even in this piping time of peace. You were her superior, Mr Grant.

`Yes. Yes. Of course. Yes." This time Grant fussed with his tie. `I regularly saw the results of her positive vetting.

`Well?" Grant spoke like a small man trying to pull himself up to his full height. `It would not be proper for me to divulge the results of a colleague's PV in the present company.

`Then just give us a pencil sketch." `I don't.

`Mr Grant, I would suggest that you either allow His Chantry to leave the room, or get on with it,' M growled. `We're all adults here.

Do as Captain Bond suggests. A pencil sketch; outline map, eh?" Grant gave a petulant sigh. `Very well." He did not actually speak through clenched teeth, but came within an ace of it. `Thirty-five years of age; entered the Service after taking the Diplomatic Corps examination at age twenty-five. A First in modern languages, Cambridge. No brothers or sisters. Both parents killed in that wretched PanAm bombing going to spend Christmas with friends in New England. No overt political affiliations. Basically clean." `Boyfriends?" `Not currently, no.

`Girlfriends then?" `She was heterosexual, Captain Bond, if that's what you're trying to ask." `I wasn't but it's as well to know. No boyfriends currently, you say. What's that mean exactly?" Grant hesitated for just too long. `She was engaged. It was broken off a month or so ago." `The fiance', then. Clean?" `Scrupulously." `Service?" `No, neither ours, nor yours.

`You want to tell me about him?" `I think that would be unwise.

`Right. Thank you, Mr Grant." Bond rose. `I think we've heard enough, and I suspect I've a lot to do before I leave for Berne...

M gestured for him to sit down again, then turned to Grant and Chantry. `You can tell your DG that the whole matter will be dealt with efficiently and discreetly." He made a gesture with his right hand leaving no doubt this time that the visiting firemen should go.

As he moved his arm, so Moneypenny appeared in the doorway, in response to some hidden signal activated by the old man.

`Moneypenny, our friends will be leaving now.

Perhaps you'd have them escorted from the building." Grant's face was a picture of barely controlled anger. Chantry, on the other hand, seemed to accept M's blatantly rude instructions as part of the normal cross she had to bear.

They had hardly left the office before M grunted a half-amused laugh. `I'm always amazed at our sister service, James." He now seemed almost amiable.

`Wouldn't trust Grant to mail a letter for me." Bond looked towards the door, his lips set in a curving cruel smile. `As for the Chantry girl, she's very upset about the death. Grant kept her on a short leash, and I suspect he'd rather have come on his own. There's something missing, sir." `Just a lot, my boy. Just a lot. Never trust Greeks bearing gifts, nor Five coming for help,. They can't bear telling the entire story, and there 5 something about the March girl that they've no intention of telling us. Just watch your back, James.

It wouldn't surprise me if Grant put some kind of leech on you in Switzerland. So take care." He began to load his pipe, tamping down the tobacco with near ferocity.

`Couple of things before you go. First, there's no convenient scheduled service to Berne, so you'll be going out in the company jet which is standing by at Northolt." The so-called `company jet' was an ageing RAF owned Hawker Siddeley 125 Series 700, in a white livery with the Transworld Consortium logo on fuselage and tail. M, careful as he was, only used the aircraft when absolutely necessary. Ever since the retreat of the Russian threat, he considered it far too high profile.

`Incidentally, you're going out as a grieving relative. The March girl only had one old aunt, living up in Birmingham, so you've been dubbed as a second cousin. Get back to me if you think Five've put surveillance on you. They're like a barrel load of monkeys when they become paranoid. Now ..` He began to give his agent some specific instructions regarding Switzerland.