Brokenclaw

machine slid sideways and Bond caught a good view of the large house and grounds, mentally memorising its position in relation to the PCH which they could see clearly some five miles away. The house was well protected, almost ringed by rocky outcrops and with the high rise of jagged rock sweeping up behind it.

They banked and began to track the coastline towards Monterey and San Francisco itself. The sun was high and warm with no sign of cloud or mist obscuring that most pleasing view of San Francisco Bay as they came in across Golden Gate Park and the Presidio, with the long unmistakable outline of the Golden Gate Bridge to their left and the great landmarks of the city standing out like some giant diorama – Telegraph Hill with Coit Tower sprouting from the summit, the tall, needle-like TransAmerica Pyramid, the Embarcadero with the piers reaching like oblong fingers clutching towards Oakland.

Leaning back in his seat, Bond had to fight down the desire to pull the ASP and force Ding and the pilot to take them out towards Treasure Island and the moored carrier, but that would have served no purpose. They were over the water now and could clearly see Fisherman’s Wharf, crowded with tourists and eating places. He even caught a glimpse of Ghirardelli Square, one of the main points of reference that he was now about to use.

They descended over the sea, coming down on to another white H, and Bond saw that there was a little Bell helicopter waiting to take on joy-riding passengers. Then, with a start of surprise, he saw, pulled up near their landing place, the long stretch limo in which they had travelled from Salinas. Frozen Stalk Pu leaned against the hood, smoking as he watched them land.

Once the helicopter had settled on its pad, the pilot indicated he would stay with the machine until they were ready to leave. ‘How long this all going to take?’ the pilot asked Ding in a slow effort at pidgin English.

‘How long?’ Ding flexed his hard muscles. ‘You ask how long Mr Abelard, Ai?’

‘It depends. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen to thirty minutes.’ Bond made it as casual as possible. Then Ding nudged him.

‘In car,’ the large hoodlum ordered.

‘You do know the instructions?’ Bond asked quietly.

‘ ’Course I know. We no come into bank. Just wait. That what the Brokenclaw one tell me.’

They had arrived at the limo and Frozen Stalk was holding the passenger door open in an exaggerated manner. ‘I take wherever you wan’ go, sir.’ He gave a toothy grin as he spoke.

Bond reasoned that these two were on their real home turf now and were out to show him who could give the orders. He took one pace back from the car.

‘Okay, I want to be certain neither of you even try to get into the bank with me. If you do try, then I fear your master is going to be extremely angry. There might even be broken heads. It’s essential you don’t show yourselves, so I think I’ll walk and you can follow me in the car.’

Ding and Pu looked at each other, and then at Bond.

‘Suggest you get in car.’ Ding pushed hard against Bond who had to turn his body slightly to avoid the Chinese coming in contact with his back and therefore feeling the hard lump of the pistol.

‘I warn you, if you make any mistake, it will not go well for you. Particularly if I do not return with the money.’

Ding nodded his understanding. ‘We watch, that is all. Now, where you wish go?’

‘You drop me off at Beach and Hyde, near the Cannery. And, even if the cops try to move you on, you stay parked on Beach. Got it?’

‘Not going to financial district?’ Pu chimed in.

‘No, there’s a small bank very close to Beach on Hyde. If you stay at the corner on Beach, you’ll see me go in and you’ll be ready when I come out.’ Bond wondered if his instructions would allow him to come out at all. ‘This is a small private bank. Understand?’

Ding shrugged then spoke rapidly to Pu. Bond climbed into the car and they drove slowly up to Beach Street, pulling in exactly where he directed them.

‘How long?’ Ding asked.

‘Fifteen minutes at the most,’ Bond lied.

‘If you not out fifteen minutes, then we come.’

‘You come, and you’re dead,’ Bond spat, climbing from the car, slamming the door on a fuming Ding and marching off up Hyde Street, crossing the road and heading for the small branch of the Sino-Republican Bank which had only set up for business during the past forty-eight hours and where three of Grant’s men waited for him.

The office was obviously closed for a complete interior overhaul and refurbishing. He pressed the security buzzer.

A tinny voice said, ‘Who goes?’

‘Custodian.’

The lock buzzer sounded and Bond pushed the door open.

The front area was quite bare, but one of the CIA men stood in a doorway at the back leading to a very ordinary-looking utilitarian office.

‘The phone’s over there.’ The welcoming party remained very low-key, the one man staying by the door while the other two sat watching silently as Bond came in and went straight to the phone.

Before picking up the instrument he told them the bank draft was to be made out to Black & Black, Inc. One of them nodded and began to work while the other started tapping at the keys of a computer. ‘And much good will it do the noble house of Black & Black,’ the computer operator muttered. ‘I’ve got it here. Hong Kong based, subsidiary of Trivex which is in turn owned by Cummings Technology and I can’t figure out who owns them.’

As the computer man spoke, Bond tapped in the number that would get him directly to M. The distant end purred twice, then M was on the line, ‘Curve One.’

‘Custodian, sir.’

‘Yes, where?’

‘At the bank. Checklist’s still with our friend. You want directions?’

‘No. We know where you are.’

‘Where?’ Bond was near to that operational point where he questioned the facts and trusted nobody, not even his old chief.

‘The house is five miles or so off the PCH, hemmed in by rock, a massive bunker running under the ground from the house, both north and south.’

‘How? How do you know that?’

‘Rushia picked up your homers from a chopper.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘We’re getting together an assault team. One moment . . .’ M was obviously being spoken to by some other person. Bond assumed it was either Grant, Franks or Tanner. Then M said, ‘Can you give us details of numbers inside?’

‘I have only seen a few people close to Lee, sir. But there are forty or so technicians in the Jericho laboratory, as they call it. Jericho’s on, sir. There’s nothing vague about it. They have it all set up.’

‘Good luck to them.’ M seemed hardly ruffled. ‘There seems to be quite a gaggle of people in the northern wing.’ M paused once more for someone else to ask him a question. Bond thought he detected Grant’s voice. ‘We believe they’re holding the kidnapped personnel there. No idea of firepower?’

‘None, sir.’

‘We also need to know the strength of the exits – the one close to the trees and the other one at the far end, the northern end.’

‘The first thing is, do not, repeat not, attempt to enter the house itself. You’ve obviously pinpointed the exits from the underground sections.’

‘We did a low fly recce. Pictures here, infra-red, the full business. Now what about those exits?’

‘I’ve only been out through the southern one, sir.’ Bond told him exactly what to expect and where the tunnels went, including the Jericho laboratory. ‘If the other entrance is the same, a pair of well-organised charges should take them out; I have no idea of firepower, but the copse is a camouflaged helicopter hangar. They’re waiting to take me back as soon as I get the draft.’

M was silent for a second, and Bond caught the sound of someone else talking. ‘There’s another thing,’ the