‘And there’s nothing else?’
It was as though the Kommissar was holding something back, uncertain whether to speak. He did not look at Bond but towards the men on the balcony, taking their photographs and measurements.
‘Yes. Yes, there is one other thing. It was not in Osten’s notes, but they had it on the general file at headquarters.’
He hesitated again, and Bond had to prompt him. ‘What was on file?’
‘At 15.10 on the afternoon of the kidnapping – that is, around three hours before it took place – Austrian Airlines received a last-minute booking from the Klinik Mozart. The caller said they had two very sick ladies who had to be transported to Frankfurt. There is a flight at 19.05, OS 421, which arrives at Frankfurt at 20.15. That evening there were few passengers so the booking was accepted.’
‘And the ladies made the flight?’
‘They went first class. On stretchers. They were unconscious, and their faces were covered with bandages . . .’
A classic KGB ploy, thought Bond. They had been doing it for years. He recalled the famous Turkish incident, and there had been two at Heathrow.
‘They were accompanied,’ Kommissar Becker continued, ‘by two nurses and a doctor. The doctor was a young, tall, good-looking man with fair hair.’
Bond nodded. ‘And further enquiries showed that no such reservation had been made from the Klinik Mozart.’
‘Exactly.’ The Kommissar raised his eyebrows. ‘One of our men followed up the booking on his own initiative. Certainly Inspektor Osten did not instruct him to do it.’
‘And?’
‘They were met by a genuine ambulance team at Frankfurt. They transferred on to another flight, the Air France 749, arriving in Paris at 21.30. It left Frankfurt on schedule, at 20.25. The ambulance people just had time to complete the transfer. We know nothing about what happened at the Paris end, but the kidnap call was placed to Doktor Kirchtum at 21.45. So they admitted the abduction as soon as the victims were safely away.’
‘Paris,’ Bond repeated absently. ‘Why Paris?’
As though in answer to his question, the telephone began to ring. Becker himself picked it up and said nothing, but waited for an identification on the line. His eyes flicked towards Bond, betraying signs of alarm.
‘For you,’ he mouthed quietly, handing over the mouthpiece. ‘The Herr Doktor Kirchtum.’
Bond took the handset and identified himself. Kirchtum’s voice still held its resonance, but he was obviously a very frightened man. There was a distinct tremor in his tone, and there were pauses between his words, as though he was being prompted.
‘Herr Bond,’ he began, ‘Herr Bond, I have a gun . . . They have a gun . . . It is in my left ear, and they say they will pull the trigger if I don’t give you the correct message.’
‘Go on,’ Bond said calmly.
‘They know you are with the police. They know you have been ordered to go to Vienna. That is what I must first tell you.’
So, Bond thought, they had a wire on this telephone and had listened to his call to the Resident in Vienna.
Kirchtum continued very shakily. ‘You are not to tell the police of your movements.’
‘No. Okay. What am I to do?’
‘They say they have booked a room for you at the Goldener Hirsch . . .’
‘That’s impossible. You have to book months ahead . . .’
The quaver in Kirchtum’s voice became more pronounced. ‘I assure you, Herr Bond, for these people nothing is impossible. They understand you have two ladies with you. They say they have a room reserved for them also. It is not the fault of the ladies that they have been . . . have been . . . I’m sorry, I cannot read the writing . . . Ah, have been implicated. For the time being these ladies will stay at the Goldener Hirsch, you understand?’
‘I understand.’
‘You will stay there and await instructions. You will tell the police to keep away from you. You will on no account contact your people in London, not even through your man in Vienna. I am to ask if this is understood?’
‘It is understood.’
‘They say, good, because if it is not understood, Miss May and her friend will depart, and not peacefully.’
‘It is
There was a moment’s silence. ‘The gentlemen here wish to play a tape for you. Are you ready?’
‘Go ahead.’
There was a click at the other end of the line. Then Bond heard May’s voice, unsteady, but still the same old May.
‘Mr James, some foreign friends of yorn, seem to hae the idea that I can be afeard easy. Dinna worry aboot me, Mr Jam . . .’ There was a sudden slap as a hand went over her mouth, then Moneypenny’s voice, thick with fear, sounded as clear as if she were standing behind him. ‘James!’ she cried. ‘Oh, God, James . . . James . . .’
Suddenly an unearthly scream cut into his ear – loud and terrified, and obviously coming from May. It made Bond’s blood run cold. It was enough to place him in the power of those holding the two women captive, for it would take something truly terrifying to make tough old May scream like that. Bond was ready to obey them to the death.
He looked up. Becker was staring at him. ‘For pity’s sake, Kommissar, you didn’t hear any of that conversation.’
‘What conversation?’ Becker’s expression did not change.
9
VAMPIRE
Salzburg was crowded – a large number of American citizens were out to see Europe before they died, and an equally large number of Europeans were out to see Europe before it completely changed into Main Street Common Market. Many thought they were already too late, but Salzburg, with the ghost of Mozart, and its own particular charm, did better than most.
The hotel Goldener Hirsch holds up exceptionally well, especially as its charm, comfort and hospitality reaches a long arm back through eight hundred years.
They had to use one of the festival car parks and carry their luggage to the Goldener Hirsch, where it stands in the traffic-free centre of the old town, close to the crowded, colourful Getreidegasse with its exquisite carved window frames and gilded wrought iron shop signs.
‘How in the name of Blessed St Michael did you get reservations at the Goldener Hirsch?’ asked Nannie.
‘Influence,’ Bond said soberly. ‘Why St Michael?’
‘Michael the Archangel. Patron saint of bodyguards and minders.’
Bond thought grimly that he needed all the help the angels could provide. Heaven alone knew what instructions he would receive within the next twenty-four hours, or whether they would be in the form of a bullet or a knife.
Before they left the Bentley, Nannie cleared her throat.
‘James,’ she began primly, ‘you said something a while back that Sukie finds offensive, and doesn’t make me happy either.’
‘Oh?’
‘You said we’d only have to bear with you for another twenty-four hours or so.’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘No! No, it isn’t true.’
‘I was accidentally forced to involve you both in a potentially very dangerous situation. I had no option but to drag you into it. You’ve both been courageous, and a great help, but it couldn’t have been fun. What I’m telling you now is that you’ll both be out of it within twenty-four hours or so.’
