lance if they appeared to arrive alone in the country. 'Big fish, little fish,' he grinned, as though it explained every thing. 'When the surveillance teams at Heathrow spotted him in April – the first time – there was, naturally, a full- scale alert.'
'Naturally,' Bond did a fair imitation of Sir Richard Duggan's condescending drawl. M busied himself loading his pipe, gently kneading the tobacco into the bowl, and keeping his eyes well down.
Ross looked a little shamefaced. 'Afraid we lost him the first time. Not ready for him. Lost him in London.'
Something stirred in Bond's memory. There had been an increase in police activity early in April, and he recalled signals coming in with instructions about being more than normally alert: watching for packages and letters, stepping up embassy security – the usual stuff on a Terrorist Red, as the police and security services called it.
Ross was still talking. 'We checked all his possible contacts, and waited. He wasn't detected leaving the country.'
'But, of course, he did,' Duggan chimed in.
Ross nodded. 'As you can all see, he was back again, entering through Heathrow, later in the month. That time we established he moved straight out of London, almost certainly heading north.'
'You lost him again,' Bond stated. Ross gave a sharp affirmative before saying they had better luck during the first May visit.
'Followed him as far as Glasgow. Then he slipped the leash. But on the last trip we kept him in our sights all the way. He ended up in a village called Murcaldy, inland from Applecross, at the foot of the north-west Highlands.'
'And we're sure who it was he visited there,' Duggan smiled. 'Just as we're certain he's gone to the same place this time. I have two officers breathing down his neck. He came in from Dublin this morning – and we were tipped off from there. He went straight to King's Cross and took the first train to Edinburgh – rings the changes, you know. He'll have reached his destination by now. We expect further reports any time.'
A silence fell over the four men, broken only by the scraping of M's match as he lit his pipe. Bond was the first to speak. 'And he's visiting…?' allowing the question to hang in the air like M's pipe smoke.
Duggan cleared his throat. 'Most of the land, including the village of Murcaldy, is owned by one family -th e Muriks. For at least three centuries, possibly longer, the Lairds of Murcaldy have been Muriks. It's almost a feudal set-up. Murik Castle, which dates back to the sixteenth century, has had many modernisations over the years; and there is the Murik estate-farms; hunting and fishing rights. The present Laird is also a celebrity in other fields -Dr Anton Murik, director of many companies, and a nuclear physicist of both renown and eccentricity.'
'Recently resigned, under some sort of cloud, from the International Atomic Energy Research Commission,' added Ross. 'And, as you'll see, there's grave doubt regarding his claim to be the Laird of Murcaldy.'
Bond chuckled, 'Well, Anton isn't exactly a well-known Scottish name. But where do I come in?' He already had a fair idea, but it would not do to jump the gun.
Duggan's face did not change: the granite good looks appeared flawed at close quarters. There was none of the usual smoothness about him as he spoke again. 'Franco has now almost certainly made four visits to Dr Murik. This will be his fifth. An international terrorist and a nuclear physicist of some eminence: put those together and you have a rather alarming situation. On each occasion, Franco has left the country again: probably – and we can only guess – via a Scottish port or airport. We're banking on the possibility that his business with Murik will take some time to conclude; but our hands are tied from the moment he leaves Britain. Our visit today is to ask the help of your service in tracing his movements outside this country.'
This time it was Bond's turn to nod, 'And you want me to dash off up to Scotland, make contact, and follow him out?'
Duggan deferred to M. 'Only if that is- ah- convenient. But I really don't think there's much time left on this trip. Anton Murik owns a string of race horses, which he has under training in England. Two are running at Ascot this coming week-one in the Gold Cup. It's his one passion, apart from nuclear physics. Franco will either be gone by the middle of the week, or up at the Castle awaiting Murik's return from Ascot.'
Bond stretched out his long legs and thought that if there really was a sinister connection between Franco and Murik, the timing indicated this would not be Franco's last visit. But you could never tell.
Duggan was on his feet. 'I've passed on all information to M.' He indicated the file – which Bond had taken to be one of M's dossiers – on the desk, as he gathered up the photographs and swept them into his briefcase. 'Also how to contact my people in the field, and all that. We have come to you for assistance, in the interests of the country. It is time to work in harness, and I must now leave the final decision here with you.'
M puffed on his pipe. 'I'll brief Commander Bond about everything,' he said pleasantly. 'Be in touch with you later this evening, Duggan. We'll do all we can -i n
The two officers took leave of M and Bond quite cordially, and, as soon as the door closed behind them, M spoke- 'What do you think, 007?'
James Bond's heart leaped, and he felt a new urgency coursing through his veins. It was a long time since M had addressed him as 007, and it signified that he could well be off into the real unknown again. He could almost smell the possibilities.
'Well, what
Bond lit another cigarette and looked up at the ceiling before he spoke. 'I should imagine you'll want me on the way to Scotland tonight.' M's eyes betrayed nothing as Bond continued. 'Not a healthy mix – an international terrorist and a renowned nuclear physicist. Been one of the nightmares for some time, hasn't it, sir? That some group would get hold of not only the materials but the means to construct a really lethal nuclear device? We suspect some of them have the materials – look at that fellow Achmed Yastaff I took out for you. At least four of the ships he arranged to go missing were carrying materials…'
M snorted, 'Don't be a fool, 007. Easiest thing in the world to construct a crude device. Yes, they've almost certainly got the materials – and don't ask me who I mean by 'they'. You've got to think logically on this one. If any of the existing terrorist organisations wanted to use some crude bomb to blackmail a government, they could do so. But for a man like Franco to be consorting with an old devil such as the Laird of Murcaldy – well, that's a very different matter, and it could mean one of two things.'
'Yes…?' Bond leant forward.
'First,' M ticked off the index finger of his left hand with that of his right, the pipe jammed into the corner of his mouth, held tightly between his teeth as he spoke. 'First, it could mean that Franco is setting up a very sophisticated operation, and is soliciting Anton Murik's specialist help and knowledge. Second'-the fingers moved-'it could be the other way around: that Dr Anton Murik is seeking Franco's aid on a little adventure of his own. Either of those possibilities is going to take more than five short visits from Franco.'
'And Anton Murik is capable of either of these things?' Bond's brow furrowed. He could read absolutely nothing in M's weatherbeaten face, and that was always a danger signal. There was far more to all this than the information brought to them by 'The Opposition'.
'Not only capable of it, but also a most likely candidate.' M opened a drawer in his desk and dropped another file on top of the one provided by M.I.5. 'We've had our eye on Dr Anton Murik, Laird of Murcaldy, for some time now.' He tapped the two files. 'What Ross told you is a slight understatement – the business about Murik resigning from the International Atomic Energy Commission under some sort of cloud.
M took the pipe from his mouth, looking Bond straight in the eyes. 'Even his title – Laird of Murcaldy – is more than highly suspect, as Ross mentioned. No, I don't intend to send you scooting off to Scotland, 007. It's my job to see that you're properly briefed, and given good support and cover. The hell with 'The Opposition' and their surveillance team. I want to get you as close to Murik as possible. On the inside; and before we get to that, there's a great deal you should know about the so-called Laird of Murcaldy.'
4 DOSSIER ON A LAIRD
IT WAS OBVIOUSLY going to be a long evening, and Bond thought he should not surprise May, his able and devoted housekeeper, by returning suddenly and late to the flat off the King's Road.
