Licence Renewed

him to appear completely relaxed in front of Murik, Mary-Jane Mashkin and Lavender Peacock. The old adage about the best form of defence being attack might not be either tactically or strategically sound on a battlefield, but here, round the Laird of Murcaldy's dinner table, Bond knew it was his only salvation. He drew the talk around to his favourite subject of golf, and took over the conversation, launching into a long and amusing account of a game he had recently played. It was, in fact, a highly embellished description of a round with Bill Tanner, and Bond felt it was perfectly within the interests of the Service to slander M's Chief-of-Staff outrageously. Even Murik appeared to be amused by the long tale, and Bond was so caught up in the telling that he had to pull himself from the half-fantasy when the ladies withdrew, coming down to earth as he faced Anton Murik alone over the table. Little passed between the two men except an explicit warning from the Laird, who obviously felt he had already told Bond too much about his plans. As they finally rose, he placed a hand on Bond's arm and said, 'Stay alert,' the note of command clear in his voice. 'We shall probably be leaving here in a day or two, and I shall want you on hand all the time before you go out and earn your money. You understand?' Bond thought of the old English word w?loga – one that breaks faith – and knew that, if Murik was going to break faith with desperate men like Franco's terrorists, there would be little likelihood, had Bond really been a contract mercenary, of any money coming his way. Franco's death would undoubtedly be followed quickly by Bond's own demise, whatever Murik said about his good intentions.

As he said goodnight to Murik and the ladies, Bond took heart from Lavender's quick, conspiratorial look, guessing that she would come to his room as soon as the castle was quiet. Back in the East Guest Room, Bond heard the tell-tale thud as the electronic lock went on after the door was closed. Murik was not a man to take chances: great care would be required once Lavender arrived. He now moved with speed, packing only the essential hardware and clothes into the larger case, then laying out other necessary items on the bed: the fake Dunhill, the pen alarm – which he would use to put M on alert once he was clear of the immediate vicinity of Murik Castle – and a small flat object that looked like a television remote control. This last he placed next to the car keys. When the moment came, speed would be essential. He wished now that there had been the opportunity to smuggle the Browning into the castle. He would have felt a small edge of confidence in being armed, for in the clear light of logic he should trust no person in this place, not even Lavender Peacock. But, as far as M was concerned, O07's job was complete-the basic information was to hand and ready to be reported. Maybe the Saab would have to run some kind of gauntlet, but if his luck held and Lavender really was the girl he thought, it would only be a matter of hours before M would have a special unit-maybe the SAS-smashing their way into the castle. Last of all, Bond laid out a pair of dark slacks and a black roll-neck sweater, together with the dullest-coloured pair of moccasins he possessed. Then, after placing the three steel ball-bearings, filched from Murik's control room, near the door, he showered, changed into the dark clothing, stretched out on the Sleepcentre, and lit a cigarette. Near his right hand lay the last piece of equipment, a wide strip of thick plastic, one of many odds and ends, screwdrivers, wires and such, provided by Q'ute. Time passed slowly, and Bond occupied himself by working on the remaining pieces of the Meltdown puzzle should he not get through, it would be best to have some operational diagram in his head.

Six nuclear power stations were to be taken over by small suicide squads. Murik had stressed that the squads were small, and would occupy the control rooms. This probably meant that Anton Murik himself, with his many contacts in the hierarchy of worldwide nuclear power, had been able to supply identification and passes for the terrorist groups.

From what little Bond knew of nuclear power stations, the control rooms were self-sufficient and could be sealed off from the outside world. With desperate and determined men inside, the situation would be tense and fraught with danger.

If Meltdown did happen, and even if troops and police were brought on to the six sites, it would take time to break into those vault-like rooms. Besides the authorities would be loath to precipitate matters, particularly if they knew the terrorists were prepared to die – and take a lot of people with them – by cutting off the cooling systems to the nuclear cores.

Logically, Anton Murik would be making demands at some very early point. From what the little man had said, the demands obviously concerned money or valuable convertible items alone. It would be a lot of money; and, if Murik was as shrewd as he seemed, the time limit had to be minimal. Whatever the governments of countries like Britain, the United States, France and Germany had said about never giving in to terrorist blackmail, Meltdown would present them with the gravest dilemma any country had yet faced.

With hostages, aircraft, embassies and the like, governments could afford to gamble and sit it out-establish a dialogue and find a way to stall matters. Yet if this situation arose, the governments would be left with no option. The hostages would consist of large tracts of land; cities; seas; rivers; and millions of people-all caught in a deadly pollution that would be devastating, and could even alter the whole course of the world for decades to come.

It was, Bond decided, the ultimate in blackmail – worse even than the threat of a thermonuclear device hidden in the heart of some great city. For this very real threat meant- technically at least- that six nuclear cores would not only wreck six plants, throwing their radioactive filth over large areas, but also bore their way, gathering heat, through the earth itself – possibly producing radioactive expulsion at other locations on the way, and certainly at the final point of exit. Anton Murik was thorough. He would have worked out every move, down to the smallest detail, from the takeover by the terrorist squads, and the making of his demands, right down to the collection of the ransom, and the point where Bond would rid him of Franco-and he would rid himself of Bond. Yet there was still one factor for which Murik had not accounted: the circumstances Bond had considered earlier- the trigger-happy, death-wish uncertainty of any terrorist group under pressure. This thought – above anything else – strengthened Bond's commitment to get out and back to M as quickly as possible.

It was almost one in the morning before he heard the click of the electronic lock. Bond sprang like a cat from the bed, the strip of plastic in one hand, the other scooping up the trio of ball bearings. Gently he pulled back on the door, allowing Lavender to enter the room. Raising a hand, he signalled silence, then slipped one ball-bearing into each of the circular bolt housings, softly tapping all three, so that the bearings rolled gently to the far ends of the housings. If Bond's thinking was accurate the metal bearings would make contact at the bottom of the bolt housings. By rights the 'on' lights would be activated in the castle switchboard room. If luck was with them the flicker as Lavender unlocked the door would have gone unnoticed.

Bond then inserted the thick plastic strip over the bolt heads, to prevent them locking back into place. Only then did he partially close the door.

Lavender was still in the dress she had worn at dinner. In one hand she carried what looked like a pocket calculator, and, gingerly in the other, one of the duelling pistols, which Bond recognised as coming from the valuable set in the hall. 'Sorry I'm late,' she whispered. 'They've only just gone to bed. A lot's been happening. Caber came up to the house with some of the men. The Laird's been giving them instructions, Lord knows what about, but Caber's in a fury. I heard them talking in the hall. It's a good thing you're going, James. Caber is threatening to kill you; but I heard Anton say, 'Not yet, Caber, your turn will come.' Have you any idea what's going on?' 'A fair amount, Dilly: enough to call in help. Yes, it is serious, I'd be foolish not to tell you that much. While I'm away, I want you to keep to yourself as much as possible. If things get bad, try and hide somewhere – and would you please not point that thing in my direction?' He took the duelling pistol from her. She told him it was safe: the hammer was down. 'I just thought you should have some kind of protection – some weapon; and I know how to load these. Anton showed me years ago. There's a ball in it, and powder, and a percussion cap.' 'Just hope it doesn't blow up in my hand if I have to use it.' Bond looked with some misgivings at the piece. Lavender said it was fine. 'The Laird tests them regularly – about once a year. He told me once that he shouldn't, but he seems to enjoy it. That one's Monro's pistol, by the way. The man who won.' Bond nodded, trying to hurry her along by asking about the main doors, and the best way out. She told him there was a red button high up on the top right-hand side of the main door. 'You'll find a small switch just beneath it in the down position. Move it up, and the alarm system'll be disconnected. Then just press the button, and the main door locks will come off. They'll know in the switchboard room straight away, so you won't have much time. I've checked, and your car's still in the same place outside.'

'And that?' Bond pointed to the flat black object.

'The main gates,' she told him. They apparently had a permanent guard on the gates, which were also equipped with electronic locks. 'Both Anton and Mary-Jane carry these in their cars.' She demonstrated that the flat box had two controls, marked Open and Close. The rest was obvious. If you started to press the Open button at around fifty yards from the gates they would unlock and swing back of their own accord. 'That's about all the help I can give you. 'It's more than enough, Dilly, darling. Now I'm going to let you have about three minutes to get well