was built. And in that time von Gloda had made contact with two ordnance depots near by. ‘One was closed down last year. I got the vehicles from them.
‘Themselves and a lot of hardware – rocketry you haven’t used yet, I gather.’ Bond slipped the fact in, receiving a cutting stare in return.
‘Soon,’ said von Gloda, nodding. ‘The second year will see us using the heavy weapons – and more.’
Silence. Was von Gloda expecting congratulation? Possibly.
‘You seem to have pulled off a coup of some magnitude,’ Bond said. He meant it to sound like a comic book bubble, but von Gloda took him seriously.
‘Yes. Yes, I think so: to go out and buy from Russian NCOs, who have no sense of their own ideology – let alone that of the NSAA. Dolts. Cretins.’
Silence once more.
‘Then the world catches up with them?’ Bond suggested.
‘The world? Yes. The authorities catch up with them, and they come running to me for cover. Yes, I really think I can boast of our successes so far. One thousand men and women here, in this bunker. Five thousand men out in the field – throughout the world. An army growing daily; attacks on main government centres all over Europe, and the United States, all planned down to the last detail; and the armaments ready for shipment. After the next assault, our diplomacy. If that does not work, then more action, and more diplomacy. In the end we shall have the largest army, and the largest following, in the Western world.’
‘The world fit for heroes?’ Bond coughed. ‘No, sir. You’re undermanned and outgunned.’
‘Outgunned? I doubt it, Mr Bond. Already during this winter we’ve shipped very large quantities of munitions out of here – BTRs, Snowcats, piled high. Straight across Finland, over rough country. Now they’re waiting for onward shipment as machine tools and farming implements. My methods of getting supplies to my troops are highly sophisticated.’
‘We knew you were bringing them out through Finland.’
Von Gloda actually laughed. ‘Partly because I wanted you to know. There are other things, however, you should not know. Once this consignment is on its way, I am ready to move my forces nearer to the European bases. We have bunkers already prepared. That, as you may realise, is one of the problems which concerns you.’ Bond frowned, not understanding, but von Gloda was now caught up in the story of how he had dealt with the people at Blue Hare.
A healthy trade with the NCOs at Blue Hare was established and worked well for some time. Then, suddenly, their CO – ‘a man of little imagination’ – came, in a panic, to the Ice Palace. A spot inspection had been called, and two Red Army Colonels were spinning around like Catherine wheels, accusing anyone and everyone – including the Warrant Officer CO Von Gloda suggested that the Warrant Officer stand on his dignity and ask the Colonels for an investigation by the KGB.
‘I knew they’d go for it. If there’s one thing I like about the Russians it is their ability to pass the buck. The Warrant Officer, and his men at Blue Hare, were caught. The Colonels were aghast at the amount of materiel missing. They were all trapped in a kind of crossfire. Everyone wanted to drop the problem into someone else’s lap. Who better than the KGB, I suggested?’
Count von Gloda, Bond admitted, had shown ideal common sense. An incident like this would be shunned by the Armed Forces (Third) Directorate. The disappearance of vast quantities of weapons and ammunition, in the wastes of the Arctic, would not appeal to the Third Directorate. Whatever else he was, the new-styled Fuhrer understood strategy, and the Russian mind. After the GRU, the job would end up with Department V, and the thinking behind such a move was obvious. If Department V moved in, there would be no trace of anything when they were finished – no missing arms and nobody to question. A clean sweep: probably a terrible accident at an ammunition depot, such as an explosion claiming the lives of all personnel.
‘I told the idiot Warrant Officer to alert whoever came from the KGB. Tell him to talk to me. First some GRU people came to Blue Hare. They only stayed for a couple of days. Then Kolya came. We had a few drinks. He put no questions. I asked him what he needed most, in all the world, to enhance his career. We did the deal here, in this office. Blue Hare will cease to exist in a week or so. Nobody will make waves. No money changes hands. Kolya wanted one thing only. You, Mr James Bond. You, on a plate. I simply acted as puppet master, and told him how to get you; deliver you to me; give me a few hours with you. After that, Department V – with whom you have so often dealt as SMERSH – has you. For life. Or death, of course.’
‘And you go on to form the Fourth Reich?’ James Bond said.’ And the world lives happily ever after?’
‘Something like that. But I have delayed matters. My people are waiting now, to talk with you . . .’
Bond raised a hand. ‘I have no right to ask, but did you set up the joint operation too? CIA, KGB, Mossad and my people?’
Von Gloda nodded. ‘I told Kolya how to do it, and how to substitute people. I did not bargain for Mossad sending my own errant daughter after me.’
‘Rivke.’ Bond remembered the night at the hotel.
‘Yes, that’s what she calls herself nowadays, or so I understand. Rivke. Behave yourself, Mr Bond, and I may be tenderhearted and allow you to see her before you leave for Moscow.’
She was alive, then; here in the Ice Palace. Bond willed himself to show no emotion. Instead he shrugged. ‘You said people wanted to talk to me?’
Von Gloda returned to his desk. ‘Doubtless the authorities in Moscow want you badly, but my own intelligence people also wish to speak to you about certain matters.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really, Mr Bond. We know your Service has one of our men – a soldier who failed in his duty.’
Bond shrugged, his face blank with feigned incomprehension.
My troops are loyal, and know the Cause comes before anything else. That is why we have been successful so far. No prisoners. All members of the NSAA take an oath, pledging death before dishonour. In all operations last year, none of my men was taken prisoner – except . . .’ He let it hang in the air. ‘Well, would you like to tell me, James Bond?’
‘Nothing to tell.’ Bland and flat.
‘I think there is. The operation against three British civil servants, just as they left the Soviet Embassy. Think hard, Bond.’
Bond had been way ahead of him. He remembered M’s briefing, and the grave look on his chief’s face when he referred to the interrogation of the one NSAA man they had in custody at the Headquarters building – the one who tried to shoot himself. What was it M had said? ‘His aim was off.’ No details, though.
‘It is my guess,’ von Gloda’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, ‘
Bond managed to draw a laugh from the back of his dry throat. ‘I’m sorry, von Gloda . . .’
‘
‘A Finnish officer who defected to the Nazis? A Finnish-German who has delusions of grandeur? I cannot call you Fuhrer.’ Bond spoke quietly, not expecting the tirade that was to come.
I have renounced nationality. I am not Finnish, nor am I German! Wasn’t it Goebbels who proclaimed Hitler’s feelings? The German people had no right to survive because they had been found wanting; they could not live up to the ideals of the great Nazi movement. They would be wiped out so that a new Party could eventually rise and carry on the work . . .’
‘But they weren’t wiped out.’
‘It makes no difference. My allegiance is to the Party, and to Europe. To the world. Now is the dawn of the Fourth Reich. Even this small piece of information is necessary to me; and you will give it to me.’
‘I have no knowledge of any NSAA prisoner. No information about an interrogation.’
The man who stood erect before Bond suddenly appeared to be convulsed with rage. His eyes blazed. ‘You
