commitment was clear. I seem to recall that we spoke of this, at great length, over a year ago. I provide the plan, the – how do you say it these days? – the know-how. I also arrange the means. You are the go-between, the contact man. Now, we have more interesting things to talk about.'
3 THE OPPOSITION
BOND BECAME MORE alert when he reached the far side of M's door. He was prepared for his old chief to be seated in his usual concentrated position behind the large glass-topped desk; but he was not expecting to find two extra men in the room.
'Come in, Bond.' M addressed him with a small, economic, movement of the hand. 'Gentlemen,' he glanced towards his visitors, 'allow me to introduce Commander James Bond. I think he's the man to fit the bill.'
Bond warily acknowledged the other men. He knew well enough who they were, though it would not do to show it openly.
M allowed the pause to lie for just the right length of time, as though testing Bond's discretion, before completing the introductions. 'Commander, this is Sir Richard Duggan, Director-General of M.I.5; and Deputy Assistant Commissioner David Ross, head of the Special Branch of the Metropolitan Police.'
Bond reached out and, in turn, shook hands with the men, noting they both possessed firm dry handshakes. They also looked him straight in the eyes. These were two features Bond had long since come either to admire or guard against – depending on what side he suspected the owners of such attributes to be working.
It was certainly a puzzling situation. M.I.5, and its executive arm, the Special Branch, constituted what was known officially as the British Security Service – responsible for counter-espionage and anti-terrorist activities on British sovereign territory.
To Bond's service they were always jokingly known as 'The Opposition', and there had always been a keen rivalry between the two organisations: a rivalry which had sometimes led to grave misunderstandings; even open hostility.
It was certainly most unusual for the heads of 'The Opposition' to come calling on M, who saw them regularly anyway – at least once a week at the Joint Intelligence Committee meeting.
M motioned Bond into a leather chair and looked – a shade too benignly, Bond thought – first at his two visitors, then at Bond. 'Our friends from M.I.5 have a small problem, Commander,' he began, and Bond noted with caution that M was treating him with almost military correctness. 'It is an interesting situation, and I feel you might be able to help; especially as it has all the marks of moving out of M.1.5's jurisdiction, and into our own area.' He tapped his pipe into the copper ashtray on the desk. For the first time, Bond noticed his chief had a file lying directly in front of him. It was thick and marked with the red Most Secret: Classified tags. Two small circles, on the top right hand corner of the white binding, denoted that the file concerned both European and Middle East connections; while a small sticker bore the words, which Bond could easily read upside down, 'Not for Brotherhood', which meant it contained information not to be circulated to the American service, the C.I.A.
The fact of the file was enough to alert Bond. M would have had it photostated on a blow-up, direct from its stored microfilm, especially for this kind of meeting. It would be shredded once those instructed to read it had done so.
'I think,' M said, looking at the Director-General of M.I.5, 'it would be best if the two of you put Commander Bond in the picture. Then we can take it on from there.'
Sir Richard Duggan nodded, and leaned down to open his briefcase, removing a file and placing a matt ten- byeight photograph on the desk in front of Bond. 'Know the face?' he asked.
Bond nodded. 'Franco – to the Press, public, and most of us. Code Foxtrot to those in the field – ourselves, G.S.G. 9, Gigene, Squad R, Blue Light, C.ll and C.13.' Bond was referring to the German, French, Italian and American anti-terrorist squads, together with C.1l and C.13, of Scotland Yard, who often worked closely with Special Branch (C.11 staffs the Anti-Terrorist Squad, in conjunction with C.1).
The head of M.I.5 was not, however, going to let Bond get off so lightly. Did the Commander know anything else about Code Foxtrot – Franco?
Again Bond nodded. 'Of course. International terrorist. Wanted in most European countries and some in the Middle East. There is a request for him to be held in the United States; though, as far as we know, he has not operated from, or in, that country. His full name is Franco Oliveiro Quesocriado; born Madrid 1948 of mixed parentage – Spanish father and an English mother. I believe her name was something quite ordinary, like Jones, Smith or Evans…'
'Leonard actually,' said D.A.C. Ross quietly. 'Mary Leonard.'
'Sorry,' Bond smiled at him, and the policeman returned the smile. He had the look of a modern copper, Bond thought. Almost certainly one of the university intake – quiet, with a watchfulness buried deep in his eyes, and the sense of a coiled spring held back by the retaining pin of both caution and calmness. A very tough and sharp baby if roused, was Bond's instant assessment.
He turned back to Sir Richard Duggan, asking if they wanted him to continue.
'Naturally.' Richard Duggan was a very different breed, and Bond already knew his pedigree – that was, after all, part of his job. Duggan was old school Home Office. Eton and Oxford, then a career in politics, which lasted only a short time before the Home Office snapped him up. Tall, slim and good-looking, with thick light-coloured hair, which his enemies claimed was tinted, Duggan looked the part-young and rich, authoritative and in control. The youthfulness, Bond also knew, was an illusion, and the luck of a good facial bone structure.
As the head of M.I.5 drawled, 'Naturally,' Bond's eyes momentarily met those of M, and caught the tiny stir of humour. Sir Richard Duggan was not one of M's favourite people.
Bond shrugged. 'Franco,' he continued, 'first came to our attention in connection with a hijacking of two British passenger jets-the airline was B.O.A.C. at the time -in the late 1960s. He appears to have no direct political affiliations, and has operated as a planner who sometimes takes part in terrorist actions, with groups like the former Baader-Meinhof gang, and is still connected with the so-called Red Army Faction. He has links with the P.L.O., I.R.A., and a whole network of terrorist groups.' Bond took out his gunmetal cigarette case, glancing at M for permission to smoke, and receiving a curt nod.
'He would, I think, be best described as an anticapitalist.' Bond lit his cigarette and gave a small quick smile. 'The paradox has always been that, for an anticapitalist, he appears to be exceptionally well-off. There is evidence that he has personally paid for, and provided, arms for a number of terrorist acts. He has certainly committed murder, in connection with two political kidnap-pings – not to mention those who have died in bomb attacks inspired directly by him. A very dangerous and most wanted man, Sir Richard.'
Both Duggan and Ross nodded in harmony, Ross muttering something about Bond knowing his man. Duggan voiced his opinion in a louder voice, saying Bond might well have to know his man even better. He then delved into his briefcase again, bringing out five more matt photographs, which he placed in a row on M's desk, in front of Bond. Each photograph carried a small sticker attached to the bottom right-hand corner. Each sticker bore a date.
Bond immediately noted the dates, before looking at the photographs. The most recent was today's. The other four were marked April 4th and 23rd; May 12th and 25th. The pictures were obviously blow-ups from a videotape recording, and he studied each one with great care. The man portrayed was dressed differently in each photograph; and, indeed, looked different-plump, in jeans and denim jacket, with long hair and a moustache; clean-shaven, but with shoulder-length blond hair and dark glasses, wearing a rumpled roll-neck sweater and slacks; grey-haired and gaunt in loud check, hung around with cameras, and clutching an American passport as though he expected it to be torn from his hand at any moment; clean-shaven again, but with dark hair, fashionably cut, clad elegantly in slacks and an expensive, fur-collared wind-cheater.
Today's photograph showed him with close-cropped hair, neat beard and spectacles. He wore a business suit. The disguises were all excellent, yet Bond had no hesitation. 'Franco,' he said aloud, like an order.
'Of course.' Duggan sounded a little patronising, going on to point out that all the photographs had been taken at Heathrow.
'Five times in the past three months, and he hasn't been picked up?' Bond's brow creased.
Deputy Assistant Commissioner David Ross inhaled, and took over the explanation. At a meeting earlier in the year, it had been decided that certain major 'most wanted' terrorists like Franco should be kept under close surveil
