Brokenclaw

were laid out on tables, both covered only with hospital gowns. While neither Bond nor Chi-Chi bore any facial resemblance to Peter Argentbright and Jenny Mo, there were some physical similarities. Argentbright and Bond were roughly the same height and build, while Jenny Mo, though a little taller than Chi-Chi, had the same delicate bone structure and their hair was almost identical.

They were taken back into one of the other hospital rooms and the two principals were handed over to the Scrivener, Brian Cogger, who began by taking their photographs, noting down identifying marks, hair and eye colour, complexion and all the other bits and pieces required for official documentation.

Leaving the Scrivener to get on with his work, they rejoined Ed Rushia and settled down to a lengthy briefing with Bill Tanner, the Grand Inquisitor, Franks, Bill Orr and M, plus two of their American counterparts. This took the bulk of their time, starting with a digest of all known facts concerning Peter Argentbright and Jenny Mo. The minutiae on Argentbright was comprehensive, for, as M put it, ‘He’s been on our books for some time now.’ The details regarding Jenny Mo were more sketchy. ‘When I talked to you first, we were under the impression that her papers consisted of good forgeries. I was wrong; the details have been run through the magic machines, and the passport, social security and other stuff appears to be genuine,’ Franks told them. ‘However, I’d best let Mr Grant, here – our adviser from Langley – make some comments.’

Grant was a soft-spoken young man with a thin moustache which gave him a wimpish look, but was not really meant to fool anybody. He was as sharp as a sliver of glass and wasted no time on any preamble.

‘There is the possibility, of course, that the young woman we have in the other room, might not be the real Jenny Mo. But if she is, she was born a US citizen and seems to have lived and worked in New York until a couple of years ago, then she turned up in the San Francisco area. There is evidence that she is a whizz with figures and dealt with various club and restaurant accounts which, in some cases, have traces of Brokenclaw Lee’s ownership. I have people checking on all of this, because if she is genuine it is quite possible that you’ll come up against people who knew her here, and none of us consider this an amusing prospect. Make no mistake about it, Lee is totally ruthless. If she is the real Jenny Mo, you’ll be blown in about ten seconds flat.’

‘Yes, that could make things a trifle risky,’ Bond understated. ‘Might I ask if we’re to carry any protection?’

‘Depends on what instructions you get.’ M was in his most uncompromising play-it-by-the-book mode. He turned to Grant, “How long will your teams take to whittle down the possibilities?’

‘On whether Jenny Mo is Jenny Mo? Difficult to say. Twenty-four hours probably.’

‘Then it could be too late.’ M looked towards his Chief of Staff. ‘You’re running this operation, Tanner. What’s our deadline on Captain Bond and Ms Chi-Ho?’

‘I want them apparently coming off JAL 06 at Kennedy tomorrow night, sir, which means eleven thirty Eastern time, eight thirty to us. It’s not safe to leave it any later than that.’

‘Do we maintain contact with Commander Rushia?’

‘We’re working on some kind of link, sir, but it could be tenuous. Q Branch’ve provided homers for James and Ms Chi-Ho, with a receiving unit for Commander Rushia. We have to work out details of direct contact between Rushia and us.’ He paused, his brow furrowed. ‘I’d really like some kind of doomsday link between James and/or Chi-Chi and Rushia as well.’

‘See that girl – what’s-her-name? The one the Armourer sent over.’

Bill Tanner suppressed a smile, knowing that M always put on his crusty act where Ann Reilly was concerned. In fact they all knew that he had a very tender spot for the girl. ‘I’ll see to it now, sir.’ He excused himself and hurried away to wheel and deal with Q’ute.

M nodded towards Franks, indicating he should continue with the briefing.

‘I want to keep this simple.’ Franks glanced at Bill Orr, who nodded. ‘As I’ve already told you, we think that we’ve got the full strength out of these two jokers, but nothing on this earth is certain.’

‘We took both of them very deep indeed,’ Orr added. ‘I believe we have the truth. Mr Franks is not so sure.’

‘I’d say around ninety-eight/ninety-nine per cent,’ Franks commented. ‘The set-up appears to be that Argentbright is to call a San Francisco number on arrival at JFK and use a simple ID sequence. We can give you all that stuff; there appear to be several identification exchanges and I just hope we’ve got them right, and in the correct order of use. The deal is that when Lee’s people are satisfied it’s really Argentbright and confirmed that Jenny Mo’s with him, they’ll give you instructions, and they could be anything from hopping a flight back here to . . .’

Bond coughed. ‘I’m not clear how we’re supposed to get on to a flight that goes direct from Tokyo to JFK. Particularly as it seems we’re required there tomorrow night . . .’

‘If you’ll just allow me to continue.’ Franks was never happy about being interrupted while he held the floor, and Bond noticed that his mood changes were accompanied by the odd movement of rubbing his chin against his shoulder. It was just one fast, odd tic, but Bond recalled that he had read something about that particular twitch and it was not good. The thought flickered through his mind, but Franks had continued to speak. ‘If you’ll let me finish, I will explain, and what I don’t tell you, the Chief of Staff will, once he returns.’

The briefing broke up at two in the morning, when Bond was taken to a cabin and told to get some sleep. His head reeled from the input received from Franks and Orr, which moved from details of the real Peter Argentbright’s life to the various options he would have once the operation, now dubbed Curve, began to run.

Chi-Chi had been taken away to another part of the carrier, and Bond reflected that he would need some time with the girl before the starting gun which was scheduled for two o’clock that afternoon, some twelve hours from now. Facts paced around his mind, but almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

He dreamed that he was at sea, in a violent thunderstorm which eventually brought him to consciousness again and to the sounds that were thunder in his dream. The carrier appeared to be making way, and the noise that had penetrated his unconscious was that of jet aircraft coming aboard. It was dawn, and a glance at his Rolex showed it was a little after five in the morning.

A few moments later there was a knock at the door and one of the Lion Tamers, who had served the cold dinner in M’s cabin the night before, came in with a breezy smile and a breakfast tray.

‘M’s compliments, sir. He’d be obliged if you would report to his cabin at six o’clock sharp. I’ll be around to escort you. Lovely day out there.’

‘Are we at sea?’ Bond asked, sitting up.

‘Not what you’d call sea, sir. We’ve just moved out of the bay a little. They’re taking aircraft on board.’

‘I thought the ship only had a skeleton crew?’

‘Fleshed it out a mite while you were sleeping, sir. See you soon.’

Breakfasted, showered, shaved and dressed, Bond was taken up to M’s cabin – the one they had used the night before – arriving at exactly two minutes past six. Chi-Chi, Bill Tanner, the Scrivener and M were already gathered.

‘So glad you could join us.’ M looked sarcastically at his watch, being a martinet concerning time.

‘Delayed by the crowds, sir,’ Bond threw back. ‘Like Piccadilly Circus this morning. I thought we had the run of the ship.’

‘Only this area,’ M said sharply. ‘We have taken aboard the minimum personnel to carry out phase one of Curve. In other words, enough officers and enlisted men to take us fifty miles out to sea, plus three F-14s and one helicopter to ensure your trip to New York. You leave at two this afternoon. On the dot, Bond, otherwise the whole business’ll be compromised.’

First they went through the paperwork with the Scrivener who had provided passports identical to those carried by Argentbright and Mo, plus all the other bits and pieces – credit cards, which they had to sign, an International driving licence for Bond and a Californian one in Jenny Mo’s name for Chi-Chi, together with her social security and Blue Cross/Blue Shield cards. Cogger was a painstaking craftsman and there was a whole bagful of pocket litter ranging from cinema stubs and restaurant bills from Hong Kong to Amex receipts from hotels. If the real Jenny Mo was truly out of the picture, they would, Bond thought, be home and dry.