‘Good day to you both.’ He spoke in a flat, unaccented English. Bond moved quickly, placing himself between Ebbie and the newcomer. Swift held up a forestalling hand.
‘Our mutual Chief told me I would probably make contact with you here,’ he said softly. ‘If that happened, I was to say, “Nine people were killed in Cambridge and an oil fire started at Canvey Island.” Does that mean anything to you?’ He paused, the grey eyes holding Bond’s.
Unless they had M tied up in some safe house and pumped to the eyebrows with sodium pentathol, this was indeed Swift – a noted member of Service – and he had received orders directly from M. Bond always carried in his head an identification code from his Chief, agreed in ultimate security. Anyone repeating it to him must be genuine. The current code, unchanged for six months, had been given to Bond in M’s office without a word passing between them.
‘Then I am to reply that the sentence comes from Volume VI of Gilbert’s excellent biography of Winston Churchill.’ Bond held out his hand. ‘Page 573. Okay?’
Swift nodded. He had a firm grip. ‘We must speak alone.’ He clicked his fingers and Chang’s second daughter by his third wife appeared behind him.
‘Ebbie,’ said Bond with a warm smile. ‘Ebbie, I wonder if you would go with this girl, just for a few minutes, while we have some man’s talk.’
‘Why should I?’ she asked indignantly.
‘Why should you not, Ebbie?’ Swift’s eyes held a firm command. She resisted for a few seconds and then meekly followed the girl. Swift glanced back through the curtain. ‘Good, they have all gone out. We have ten minutes or so. I am here as M’s personal messenger boy.’
‘Demoted?’ Bond asked lightly.
‘No, only because I know all the participants. First, M apologises for having put you in such an intolerable position.’
‘That’s good of him. I am getting a little tired of playing the odd man out. I didn’t even know about Smolin.’
‘Yes, so he told me. M has asked me to find out how much you do know, and how much you have put together.’
‘To begin with, I trust nobody, not even you, Swift. But I’ll talk because it’s unlikely you could get that code from anyone but M. What I now know, or at least suspect, is that there was something terribly wrong about Cream Cake; so wrong that two agents were murdered and London realised it had to be taken care of. Presumably one or more of the survivors have been turned.’
‘Almost correct,’ said Swift. ‘At least one has always been a double. That became all too apparent after Smolin was left in place; and, yes, we have no idea which one. But there’s a good deal more to it than that.’
‘Go on.’
‘M is being leaned on so heavily that certain people in the Foreign Office are calling for his resignation. A lot of things have gone wrong for him and when the Cream Cake business resurfaced he saw yet another disaster heading his way. He put a plan up to the Foreign Service mandarins and they turned it down flat as too dangerous and non-productive. So he had to go it alone. He chose you because you are his most experienced operator. He underbriefed you, even withheld a large wedge of intelligence from you, because he believed you would eventually put two and two together.’
That sounded like M at bay. No wonder the old boy was so firm about the operation not having his blessing. He remembered Q’ute’s description of the situation, in Paris: ‘M’s been closeted in his office for three days now. He’s like a general under siege.’
As though reading his mind, Swift continued, ‘M is still under siege. In fact, I’m surprised that he even talked to me. We met under tremendous security precautions. But he won’t last if another double is found within his house, or even near to it. You follow?’
‘Does, say, Chernov – Blackfriar – know this?’
‘Possibly. What you haven’t figured out yet I am supposed to tell you. M’s pleased with what you’ve done so far. But now you need to know a couple of facts.’ Swift paused, letting the tension build. ‘First, the double within Cream Cake has to be eliminated, with no comebacks. Understand?’
Bond nodded. This was not an order M could have given directly. Under the recent Foreign Office ruling, assassination was not permitted. It had been the end of the old Double-O Section, though M maintained that he always thought of Bond as 007. Now he was being told to kill for the Service, and to save M’s neck. He felt quite calm about it, for Swift’s disclosure had given him a new impetus. M was a shrewd and tough old devil. He was also quite ruthless. His head was on the block and Bond had been chosen to save him. M knew that, of all his people, James Bond would fight shoulder to shoulder with him right up to the end.
‘So I’ve got to finger the double.’
‘Right’, said Swift with a quick nod, ‘and I can’t help you there, as I haven’t a clue either.’
It could be any of them, or all of them: Smolin, Heather, Ebbie, Baisley or Dietrich. Then another thought struck Bond. ‘Good lord!’ he said aloud.
‘What?’ Swift took a step towards him.
‘Nothing.’ He closed up like a clam, for suddenly he realised there was yet another contestant. He did not even allow himself to think of the ramifications if that were the case.
‘Sure it was nothing?’ Swift pressed.
‘Certain.’
‘Good, because there’s something else – someone else. To add weight to his position as Head of SIS, M requires a coup. The Cream Cake investigation provided the man and the means. He wants Blackfriar, and he wants him alive.’
‘We could have taken him in Ireland.’
‘And risked one hell of an incident on foreign soil? True, the Irish Special Branch are most co-operative, but I don’t think even they would have been that co-operative. No, we have to take him here, on what is still British territory. Here we have rights. That’s another reason M sent you into the field, James. As soon as he discovered Blackfriar had been tempted to leave Soviet territory to follow up on Cream Cake, he baited the trap with you.’
‘Because I’m on his department’s hit list?’
‘Exactly.’
That also made sense. M was never squeamish about putting men of Bond’s calibre in delicate situations.
‘And to help things on their way, I was told to instruct Jungle to head East. Chernov’s a determined devil, and he’s fallen for it.’
‘You mean I fell for it.’ Bond looked at him coldly.
‘I suppose you did. If you hadn’t got out, James, I would probably be dealing with this alone, because Chernov’s already here.’
‘On Cheung Chau Island?’
Swift gave him a quick, surprised look. ‘You’re very well informed. I thought that would be my little surprise.’
‘When did he get in?’
‘Last night. There have been a number of arrivals in the past twenty-four hours. Some came in via China. Altogether, Blackfriar’s got quite an army here. He has also taken prisoners. He even brought some – Smolin and Heather. By now I should think he has Jungle and his German girl under lock and key out on the island. It’s up to us to sort this out, James. I suggest we meet at around ten-thirty tonight in the lobby of the Mandarin? Okay?’
‘If you say so.’
‘I’ll organise a way to get us out to Cheung Chau. They call it Long Island or Dumb-bell Island here because it’s roughly shaped like a dumb-bell. The house is on the eastern side, on a promontory at the northern end of Tung Wan Bay. It’s very well situated and custom-built for the GRU. Chernov’s probably laughing his head off now he’s there – at least I presume he’s there.’
‘Ten-thirty, then,’ said Bond, glancing at his watch. ‘I have one or two surprises for Blackfriar.’
‘You’re also willing to give your life for M, aren’t you?’ Swift was not smiling.
‘Yes, damn him, and he knows it.’
‘I thought so.’ Swift gave a bleak smile, turned his head and called loudly through the bead curtain. At the
