After clearing his throat a couple of times, and fiddling with his cufflinks, Grant began tentatively.
`Her name is Laura March. Age thirty-five, been with our service for ten years. Worked five years with the Watcher Division, then moved on to Anti-terrorist Intelligence. Mainly analysis of raw information.
Very good record. Knew her stuff.
For a second he paused, as if treading on uncertain ground.
`And?' Bond gave him an encouraging smile.
`She's disappeared with the family jewels?' `She's dead.' It came out flat and uneasy.
Murdered, it would seem.' M filled the gap.
`In Switzerland,' His Chantry supplied. `She was on leave.' `Ah.' The truth was out, Bond thought. MIS's jurisdiction was effective only in the United KIngdom and its dependencies, a situation which often led to ill-feeling between the two organizations.
Grant sounded a shade petulant now. `That's why we need your help. She was staying in Interlaken Switzerland. . -` `I know where Interlaken is.' This time, Bond was neither encouraging nor smiling.
`Switzerland.
Little place with lots of lakes and mountains. Lots of banks and chocolates as well.' Grant frowned. `You're Interlaken?' `I know it's a tourist centre for the Bernese Oberland.' Bond wanted to demagnetize the highly charged atmosphere, maybe even force a smile from this somewhat pompous man. So he half sang, 'Gazing down on the Jungfrau, from our secret chalet for two.' Kiss Ale Kate and all that.
`The only way you can gaze down at the familiar with Jungfrau is from a helicopter or an aeroplane.
Grant looked puzzled.
`That's the whole point,' Bond snorted. `Cole Porter wrote that song as a satire on the stupidity of some operettas..
`Captain Bond,' M snapped. `We do not require a lesson in musical comedies. This is a serious business. Let Mr Grant give you the facts.
Bond, still a little irritated at having been called away from what was to have been a delightful weekend, and possibly two reckless nights with the nubile His Helpful, knew how far he could go with M, and his Chief's voice had now hit what he liked to think of as the Mutiny on the Bounty level. He closed his mouth and nodded politely to Grant.
`It's a beautiful part of the world,' Grant continued lamely.
`And it appears that she was particularly fond of it. She had been there for two days, and yesterday morning she took the chair lift up to First, a very good viewing point above Grindelwald. Last night, she was found dead, about half a mile from the chair lift staging-point.' `Dead as in natural causes, or the other kind?' `It would seem the other kind.`How?' Bond looked towards His Chantry who had gone pale, her eyes reflecting the anguish he had noted earlier.
`As you know, the Swiss authorities have a tendency to work by the book, Captain Bond. The police were called, treated the matter as a possible murder or suicide, did the usual things and then moved the body to Interlaken. They did an autopsy in the early hours of this morning, and the results are both puzzling and unpleasant.' `I'm used to unpleasant matters.' Bond had on grim business was slipped into his own sombre mode. If you cannot beat them, join them, he considered. `I've spent the past week looking at photographs, and reading autopsy reports on four terrorist assassinations, which might just impinge on matters of intelligence, so a fifth post mortem isn't going to make me queasy.' Grant nodded. `The only unusual mark they found on the body was an angry bruise on her neck, just below the right ear. The skin was broken and they recovered a tiny fragment of gelatin. Part of a capsule which had penetrated the skin.
`How?' `We don't know. The Swiss won't commit themselves.
`So what was the cause of death?' Grant frowned. `They're still doing tests.
Nothing confirmed as yet, except that whatever killed her almost certainly got into her via the capsule. I understand that they've now brought some specialist forensic doctor up from Berne.
`And this, having happened in Switzerland, brings you to the point of your visit to us?' `We've been refused permission by both the Foreign Office and Swiss security to operate on their turf. They know of His March's link with us, and they're fairly paranoid.
`Point is,' M cut in, as though annoyed at Grant for taking too long to explain the full situation.
`Point is that they will accept Scotland Yard, or one representative from us.' `And we're not happy about Mr Plod treading all over one of our own,' Grant added.
`So I'm the lucky winner?' Bond's spirits rose slightly. An all-expenses-paid weekend in Switzerland even __ relatively appealing.
`You fly out this afternoon.' M did not even look at him.
`They'll be holding the inquest on Monday, so you'll have plenty of time to go over the ground.
`Haven't we got anybody in Switzerland any more, sir?' `You know how it is, Bond. Cutbacks, reorganization. Yes, we have somebody in Geneva, at the embassy...
`Well, can't. . ?` `No, he can't. He's on leave. In the old days we would have had him covered, but those luxuries are gone. You go out, flying the flag, to Berne this afternoon. They'll meet you at the airport and ferry you to Interlaken.' `Who's they? The cops?' `No.
Swiss Intelligence. What used to be the old Defence Department Twenty-seven disbanded last January. They've reorganized like everybody else, and one of their people will meet your flight, take you around, show you the crime scene, fill you in and hold your hand at the inquest. Your job is simply to gather details and make sure the Swiss police have done a thorough job.. `They always do a thorough job,' Grant muttered. `They're Swiss, and the Swiss bring a new meaning to the word brusque.
`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
