Brokenclaw

proof of his one-man criminal activities.’

‘Sounds like a job you’d put me on to, sir.’ Bond smiled as he said it, and the smile was met by a freezing look.

‘Oh, you are on it, 007. You and Ed Rushia here, both. You see, as well as being a mobster of immense skill and cunning, we are now one hundred per cent certain that he’s taken on another line of work. We’re certain that he’s an agent of CELD, and probably the CCI as well.’

Bond looked at his chief with renewed interest. Up until now, the man Lee had seemed to be simply into organised crime. But CELD was the Central External Liaison Department, while CCI stood for Central Control of Intelligence. They were Red China’s answer to the CIA, the SIS, NSA and any other Intelligence outfit you could think of.

‘How much do you know about those happy intriguers in CELD and the CCI, Bond? Precious little I should imagine.’

‘As much as anyone else in the trade, sir. They’re both as ruthless as KGB was at the height of the cold war, to targets both at home and abroad. I’ve seen the need-to-know files. I’m aware that, in the current climate, especially since the Tienan-men Square massacre, every Western agency has been put on a red alert regarding Chinese Intelligence.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. Since the Republic of China began to encourage visitors and tourists, there have been successful and unsuccessful attempts to recruit agents from the West. They desperately need Caucasians to work in Europe and the United States.’

‘Mmm,’ M growled. ‘Tien-an-Men Square,’ he divided the words correctly. ‘The Gate of Heavenly Peace. Some peace. And what have you made of CELD’s attempted conversions?’

‘I know that some Chinese nationals have infiltrated our territories, that there are some Intelligence officers working out of consulates and embassies. I also read the long file from our own China Desk on their methods of recruitment and subversion. For a people noted for their cunning and deception, the Chinese methods seemed a shade old-fashioned, the kind of stuff the Russians used in the fifties and sixties. Sexual burns, hidden cameras, drug-induced disorientation, financial rewards.’

Rushia made a rumbling noise in his throat. ‘You don’t consider that those old ways still work, James?’

‘They’re less reliable, except in the case of certain subjects.’

‘Surprise you if I said the FBI and Navy Intelligence know of at least six successful recruitments of Caucasians in the last twelve months?’

‘Tell me about it.’ Bond was unconvinced.

‘Tell you? Hell, no. We can show you a pair of them – well, one is Caucasian. Here. Now. Aboard this floating airbase.’

M held up his hand. ‘I should tell you, 007, that the US Navy have kindly given us the run of certain parts of this ship. There is only a skeleton crew aboard. We have several cabins, as well as the area which our American cousins call the Brig, and the ship’s Hospital. What the Royal Navy would call the Cells and the Sick Bay.’

Until that moment, Bond had assumed they were the only Intelligence people on board, and that this cabin was a kind of safe house, organised for one meeting. ‘Who’s here, sir? Apart from us, I mean.’

‘You’ll see shortly. People known to you. But let’s not run before we can walk. There are other things you must be briefed about if you’re going to stand any chance against this particular evil.’

‘You’re suggesting that Brokenclaw Lee is behind the disappearance of these Lords and Lords Day specialists?’

‘I would have thought it was obvious by now,’ M said tartly. ‘Yes. Our service was only brought in when Intelligence on this side of the ocean made the connection.’ He looked pointedly towards Ed Rushia, silently ordering him to continue.

The American took a deep breath, ‘Gee, James, what can I tell you? When the first coupla guys went AWOL nobody bothered. People go AWOL all the time, but when two more disappeared everybody got jumpy, particularly as they were interconnected. Then number five went off into the wide blue yonder and all hell broke loose. I’m just fillin’ in the blanks for you, mind, ’cos I wasn’t around at the beginning, though we had some mighty smart hombres working on it. Guys that look in their rear-view mirrors and do all those things that just make me plain nervous.’

Rushia waved a large hand in the general direction of the desk at which M was sitting. ‘The files of the fearless five, the guys who went missing, are there for your inspection, and you’ll see for yourself that all five who became the victims in Trojan Horse were very smart cookies. Trojan Horse is the crypto for the investigation into the missing experts, and you’d better believe they were experts. Between them they could pass on most of the working secrets of Lords and Lords Day. The first thing we did was to check and double-check the backgrounds of each member of the quintet. We particularly looked for weaknesses which could possibly be used as levers for what you consider to be outdated techniques. Just in case these people were turned in the old-fashioned sense. Then we spent a long time looking into their habits. Came up with some names and numbers, as they say. Three of the guys were buddies and spent a lot of time at The Broken Dragon – that’s a kinda Chinese eating place-cum-cat house. They were there on the night they went AWOL. Each one of them was last seen at The Broken Dragon. Guess who owns that joint? And guess who was there on at least two of the occasions when guys disappeared?’

Bond simply nodded. Brokenclaw Lee was the obvious connection.

‘So,’ Rushia held up his left hand and counted off the fingers, ‘Lieutenant Lindsay Robertson, Lieutenant Daniel Harvey and Senior Technician Billy Bob Heron all frequented The Broken Dragon with dangerous monotony. We can put Robertson and Harvey there within two hours of them going AWOL, and there is good evidence that ole Brokenfoot Lee was also there. He showed himself, as if on purpose, both times. More, we can put ole Billy Bob at the same place on the night he did the disappearing act.’

‘And the other two?’ Bond had a feeling that this was all too easy.

‘Frankie McGregor, petty officer first class, and James Joseph Jepson III, lieutenant?’

‘If that’s who they were – are – do we know if they’re . . . ?’

‘Alive? Oh, it’s are, okay. Those people’re still alive and breathing. Those last two particular gentlemen, Jepson and McGregor, were heavily into that most dangerously addictive of beasts, gambling. They spent far too much time, mostly independently, at an illegal gaming house known as the Coc-Chai. Both there on the separate nights they went AWOL. Evidence was highly stacked on the pair of them taking it on the lam, as they used to say in the gangster movies, because they were in hock to the Coc-Chai, their messmates, their families and, in Jepson’s case, one of Lee’s moneylenders.’

‘And Mr Lee is the driving force behind the Coc-Chai?’

Rushia nodded. ‘Sure is. One hundred fifty per cent.’

‘So, we have a tenuous link between Brokenclaw and the missing experts.’

M’s hand slapped palm down on the desk top, landing with a thump which imparted irritation with more immediacy than words. The action was so sudden and unexpected that both Bond and Rushia turned sharply towards him.

‘Tenuous then. But not now,’ M snapped. ‘Commander Rushia, I think we should have some food brought in and then invite the sixth missing Lords technician to dine with us. I’m sure she’ll make Captain Bond here sit up, take notice, and also begin to take the whole of this business seriously.’

‘If you say so, Admiral. Aye aye, sir.’ Rushia hauled himself out of his chair and strode over to the desk. He was a man, Bond considered, who could never merely walk. Rushia strode, great loping steps full of purpose. He was reminded of horny-handed men following long gone horse-drawn ploughs.

‘It’ll be dinner for four, in the C-in-C’s day cabin,’ Rushia spoke into a red telephone. ‘And would you be good enough to ask Lieutenant-Commander Man Song Hing to step up here. Good.’ He replaced the handset. ‘Wanda’ll be right up, sir.’ Then turning to Bond, his craggy face broke into a smile which made him look a good deal younger than his years. ‘Wanda’s quite a gal. She’ll stir your juices for sure, Cap’n Bond.’

‘Captain Bond’s juices have been stirred far too often in the past for my liking,’ M said wearily.

‘I realise there’s a great deal of briefing to be done, sir.’ Bond sounded more than a shade acid. ‘But one thing’s been really bugging me, to use the local parlance.’

‘Well?’