never see you again. We're still together. Sure, you've no reason to trust me on anything else, but you do believe me about this, don't you, James? That I want us to go on being together?'
'Yes.' Bond spoke as he felt. 'I believe you, Ariadne.'
They kissed, and for a moment left the world of enmity, violence and treachery in which they worked. Just then the taxi slowed and stopped. They moved apart. In the most everyday manner possible they got out and Bond paid off the driver.
It was a narrow street on the outskirts of the city towards the port of Piraeus, with a small bar in which a solitary old man dozed, a grocer's shop, a long building that might have been a school, a few houses of variegated shapes but all uniformly whitewashed. One was set a few yards back from the street behind rusty railings. Ariadne opened the gate, which squeaked painfully, and they crossed a tiny paved courtyard overgrown with vine and laurel. An underfed tabby cat rushed past them, squeezed through the railings and vanished. At the front door, Ariadne gave a complicated knock, reached out and gripped Bond's hand.
Bolts were thrown and the door opened. The man Ariadne had called Tzimas stood there. At the sight of them he gave a grunt of consternation, but a gun was in his hand within the time of a heartbeat. He motioned them in and shut the door, bolting it by feel while his eyes and gun remained on Bond. Ariadne led the way across a square tiled hall to an inner door. Bond followed her over the threshold.
There were two men sitting at the cheap barley-sugar-legged table. Both at once jumped up and began shouting questions at Ariadne. During the gesticulating three-cornered word-play that followed, Bond studied the men. One was in his thirties, dark, good-looking, a little overweight for his age: Greek. The other might have been anything between forty and sixty, grey, dried-up, close-cropped, speaking Greek with a heavy accent: Russian. No question about it. Well, that was one point checked off. Bond allowed himself to wonder whether M was in this house. Since the Quarterdeck affair he had, as far as possible, rigorously excluded M from his conscious thoughts, knowing that to speculate in that direction put him at the mercy of useless, senseless rage and hatred. So it did now for a moment: Bond gritted his teeth and concentrated on the present scene.
The Greek, biting his lip, hurried to an open roll-top desk littered with papers and began telephoning furiously. The Russian continued his dialogue with Ariadne for a time. He glanced at Bond more and more often, finally dismissed the girl with a flick of his hand and came over. He looked tired and frightened.
'Precaution, Mr Bond,' he said, his accent no less thick in English than in Greek. 'Take out your gun slowly and give it to me.'
Bond, with Tzimas at his side, did as he was told. The Russian gave the weapon a quick professional glance before reaching across and placing it on the desk.
'Now take a seat, Mr Bond. You like a drink?'
Bond, sitting beside Ariadne on a moth-eaten horsehair sofa, looked up in surprise. 'Very much. Thank you.'
The Russian signed to Tzimas. 'We have only ouzo, I'm sorry. It is known that you prefer whisky, but our budget wouldn't allow this. You call that cheese-paring?'
The thin mouth twitched upwards. You've got guts, thought Bond. You're scared half out of your mind and you're too proud to be seen yielding to it. He nodded and smiled back. Tzimas handed him a tooth-glass half-full of milky fluid. '_Fiye apo tho, malaka?__' said the man threateningly, glaring into Bond's face. Then he guffawed and slammed him on the back. '_Bravo! Ees iyian!__'
'Now, Mr Bond.' The Russian waved Tzimas away with a frown and leant back against the edge of the table. 'My name is Gordienko and my associate here is named Markos. We may have very little time, so I must request you to be intelligent and answer my questions. As you have gathered, it was arranged for you to be captured tonight and brought here. You are not captured but you come here just the same. Why?'
'What alternative had I? You must see that.'
'I do not. I don't. Now, please. What is the purpose of your visit to Greece?'
Bond stared. 'Good God, you brought me here!'
Gordienko stared back, then shrugged, 'Perhaps it was not intelligent of me to ask this now. Tonight all very confusing. But answer this. In your opinion, who has employed the men who have tried to capture you?'
'I don't know. Some powerful free-lance. Anyhow, it failed. Now let me ask you something. Where's your other prisoner? Is he here?'
'This is...' Gordienko looked defeated. 'I have no idea what you mean.'
'Now who's being unintelligent? Another one, then. What do you want with me? You've got me here at your mercy. Surely you can let me know that much.'
'I can,' said Gordienko briskly. 'Now, yes, I can. You're considered to be very important, Mr Bond. So important that the task to plan your capture is taken out of my hands and entrusted to - another official.'
(Ah! thought Bond; I might have guessed that Acropolis caper wasn't your style.)
'On capture you would be kept in custody here in this safe-house for approximately three days and then released. You would also be questioned as to your intentions in coming to Athens. These were my orders. Privately, I had much doubt as to the wisdom of the second item. It is known that you're very resistant to questioning.'
Bond suppressed a surge of excitement. He was nearly certain he saw the truth. Gordienko's obvious air of competence made it most unlikely that he would lie so pointlessly at such a moment. On this reasoning, he, Bond, had somehow strayed out of one conspiracy into another, and the men on the Acropolis had been the agents of the original one, the first, grand, terrifying conspiracy. And that meant that some agreement with this Russian was possible. But caution must be maintained; he was only nearly certain. In this kind of work there are no certainties until the job is over - if then.
He said in a level tone, 'I think I believe you. It rather looks as if we've been at cross-purposes, you and I. We're so used to there being two sides that we never remember there may be a third, hostile to both of us. I propose that, for the moment, we join forces.'
'Agreed.' Some of the tension left Gordienko's lined face. He signed again to Tzimas. 'Let us pool information. Some information, at least. My side is conducting an important, um, event in this region. I must assure you that it's not aimed against your side. It's designed to give strength to my side, naturally, but not so much at the expense of yours. _Efkharisto__.' Gordienko took the glass of ouzo from Tzimas and looked sidelong at it. 'I too
