Christopher Wood - The Spy Who Loved Me

‘Stop! ’ The voice echoed from the PA system like a rifle shot. The guards immediately thrust their weapons forward and the line of prisoners stumbled to a halt. Bond felt his heart miss a beat. What had happened? He glanced at Anya but she was looking down into the oily waters of the dock.

‘I believe we have unexpected guests. Guards, bring Mr and Mrs Sterling to the control room! ’ There was a deadly, mocking edge to the voice and Bond’s heart sank. How had they been spotted? And then he saw it3 turning slowly along its track like an electric fan. Mounted on a rail sixty feet above their heads was a TV scanner relaying images back to the control room. A guard stepped into the ranks and Bond recognized one of the men who had been at the laboratory. His face set into a mean leer and he jabbed his automatic into Bond’s stomach until the sight buried itself in flesh. ‘ Vas-y !' Bond winced and resisted the temptation to brain the Corsican with his own weapon. Something told him he was going to need all the strength he had. Anya was plucked from the ranks and the two of them propelled towards a curved flight of stairs that led from the quayside to the control room. A torrent of jeers in Russian and English came from the grilles along the brig. Bond noticed that the doors were secured by wheels like the door of a bank safe. At least the crews of the Ranger and Potemkin sounded as if they were spoiling for a fight. He only hoped he could provide them with one.

The flight of stairs ended outside the starboard side of the control room and Bond looked through the giant steel louvres that stood open like a procession of screens, the gap between each one large enough to let a man walk through without turning his shoulders. The room was dominated by a twenty- foot-high globe, illuminated internally and revolving slowly. At various points on its surface, different coloured lights were flashing. Around the globe was a circular console manned by six technicians operating a galaxy of computers, print-out machines and transmission units. Behind the globe was a long bank of closed-circuit television screens watched by a team of monitors. Bond smiled ruefully. No wonder they had been seen. There must be no part of the vessel that Stromberg could not keep under the minutest observation. The man left nothing to chance.

‘Good day, Mr Sterling - or perhaps we can dispense with pseudonyms - Commander Bond and Major Amasova.’ Stromberg rose from a revolving armchair set in front of the globe so that it provided a view of everything that was happening in the control room. He glided towards them with his strange ghostly walk, looking at first glance like a venerable mandarin in a black tunic. ‘You have arrived just in time. I am about to instigate Operation Armageddon.’ Before Bond could speak, he turned aside and addressed a bearded man wearing the uniform of a merchant navy captain who was standing attentively in the entrance to the control room. ‘Proceed with launching, Captain.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The man turned on his heel and retired into the control room. Seconds later, his voice came over the PA system. ‘Attention all personnel. Stromberg Crews One and Two - embark your submarines. Repeat - Crews One and Two - embark your submarines.’

As Bond watched in amazement, the catwalks above the Ranger and Potemkin began to fill with men and the whole structure drummed with the sound of moving feet. Down they filed like two columns of ants making for the submarines.

Bond looked at Anya. Her expression mirrored his puzzlement. Armageddon? The supreme conflict between nations. The end of the world ?

A PA speaker crackled into life. ‘Both crews aboard, Captain. Missile onload completed.’ The hatch covers slid into place. The decks were smooth. The .water glistened like the surface of a swimming-pool.

Bond turned to Stromberg, who was looking down without expression. ‘What does it mean, Stromberg?’

Stromberg placed the tips of his fingers together in a gesture akin to prayer. He spoke softly. ‘The two submarines, generously donated by your respective governments, will shortly be putting to sea. They have been given their targets and by twelve noon they will have reached their firing positions. Shortly after twelve noon, New York and Moscow will cease to exist.’ He spoke in a precise, measured tone that was chilling. ‘I don’t have to tell either of you what that means. Reprisals for what both great powers will take as a premeditated sneak attack will be immediate. Nuclear war on an unprecedented scale will break out. The world as we know it will be obliterated.’

There was silence save for the lapping of water against the dockside. The Captain’s voice came over the PA system. ‘Open bow doors.’ Bond gripped the rail before turning to face Stromberg. ‘All right. How much do you want?’

Stromberg’s bland face was devoid of artifice. ‘Want, Commander Bond? What can you possibly give me?’

‘Personally, very little.’ Bond tried to control his temper. ‘But those I represent - those Major Amasova represents. They can give you a great deal. Name your figure.’

Stromberg shook his head as if not quite certain that he understood. ‘I think you arc talking about money. I am not interested in money. I have all I need.’

‘Then what do you want?’ Anya’s tone was urgent. ‘Power? A world government under your control?’

Again there was silence broken by the Captain’s voice over the PA system. ‘Stromberg One - proceed to sea. Stromberg Two - follow in line astern.’

Bond watched in horror as HMS Ranger began to nose forward. ‘Yes, Stromberg! Name your terms. What do you want to call back those submarines?’

Stromberg turned slowly like a man in a trance and Bond found himself staring into eyes that were two long corridors leading nowhere. He realized then that Stromberg was completely and utterly mad. ‘You do not understand, Commander Bond. I want to destroy the world.’

Exit Sigmund Stromberg

‘Create a new world?' Anya’s voice was incredulous.

‘Beneath the sea. Your friend’ - Stromberg checked and pinched his small wet mouth into the semblance of a smile - ‘your colleague, Commander Bond, knows what I am talking about.'

‘I have no conception of what you’re talking about!’ Bond’s voice blazed with anger. ‘If you want to start a colony on the ocean bed, start it! Why butcher countless millions of innocent people in the process?’

They are not innocent!’ Now it was Stromberg's turn to rage.

‘Do you ever look at the world you live in? Do you ever read a newspaper? Do you ever watch a television set? Corruption, betrayal, dishonesty, hate! These are the most prevalent human emotions. Society is hellbent on destruction. I am merely accelerating the process. I act not from malice but from necessity.’

‘But how will the oceans fare in a nuclear war? The contamination will be immeasurably more severe.’

The two departing submarines were now framed in the gaping bows of the Lepadus . It was like a painting. A painting of the end of the world.

‘I disagree!' Stromberg's thin whine sang with mad menace. ‘Better to end all at one stroke than continue with what we have now. I have made plans for all contingencies.*

‘You are mad,’ said Bond.

'I am not interested in your opinion.* Stromberg's tone was withering. ‘I will accept the judgment of posterity.*

*1 can give it to you now,’ said Bond. ‘Sigmund Stromberg was the richest lunatic in history.*

For a moment it seemed that there had been a subsidence of Stromberg’s features. The mouth was sucked into itself and the eyes blazed with strange, ghastly fire. Then the spasm passed and the fluttering hands were still. ‘You seek to goad me, Commander Bond. But I am a scientist and a realist. I am above petty emotions. I more than any man alive have proved that I do not need to sink to the level of vulgar abuse!'