Nobody Lives for Ever

organisations. Rent-a-Thug, he thought, as he turned to Kirchtum.

‘How did they manage it?’ he asked blandly, seemingly drained by the knowledge that Quinn had sold out.

‘Manage?’ Kirchtum appeared to be at a loss.

‘Look – ’ Bond almost shouted before realising that Kirchturn’s English was not always perfect, and could have deserted him in his present state. He walked over and laid an arm on the man’s shoulder, speaking quietly and sympathetically. ‘Look, Herr Doktor, I need information from you very quickly, especially if we are ever to see the two ladies alive again.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Kirchtum covered his face with his big, thick hands. ‘It is my fault that Miss May and her friend . . . Never should I have allowed Miss May to go out.’ He was near to tears.

‘No. No, not your fault. How were you to know? Just calm yourself and answer my questions as carefully as you can. How did these men manage to get in and hold you here?’

Kirchtum let his fingers slide down his face. His eyes were full of desolation. ‘Those . . . those two . . .’ He gestured at the bodies. ‘They came as repair men for the Antenne – what you call it? The pole? For the television . . .’

‘The television aerial.’

‘Ja, the television aerial. The duty nurse let them in, and on to the roof. She thought it good, okay. Only when she was coming to me did I smell a mouse.’

‘They asked to see you?’

‘In here. My office, they ask. Only later I find they had been putting up Antenne for their radio equipment. They lock the door. They threaten me with guns and torture. Tell me to put the next doctor in charge of the clinic. To say I would be occupied in my study on business matters for a day or two. They laughed when I had to say “tied up”. They had pistols. Guns. What could I do?’

‘You do not argue with loaded guns,’ Bond agreed, ‘as you can see.’ He nodded to the corpses. Then he turned to the grunting, straining Steve Qumn. ‘And when did this piece of scum arrive?’

‘The same night, later. Through the windows, like you.’

‘Which night was that?’

‘The day after the ladies disappeared. The two in the afternoon, the other at night. By that time they had me in this chair. All the time they had me here, except when I had to perform functions . . .’ Bond looked surprised, and Kirchturn said he meant natural functions. ‘Finally I refused to give you messages on the telephone. Until then they had only threatened me. But after that . . .’

Bond had already seen the bowl of water and the large crocodile clips wired up to a socket in the wall. He nodded, knowing only too well what Kirchtum must have suffered.

‘And the radio?’ he asked.

‘Ah, yes. They used it quite often. Twice, three times a day.’

‘Did you hear anything?’ Bond looked at the radio. There were two sets of earphones jacked into the receiver.

‘Most of it. They wear the earphones sometimes, but there are speakers there, see.’

Indeed, there were two small circular speakers set into the centre of the system. ‘Tell me what you heard.’

‘What to tell? They spoke. Another man spoke from far away . . .’

‘Who spoke first? Did the other man call them?’

Kirchtum thought for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. The voice would come with a lot of crackling.’

Bond, standing beside the sophisticated high frequency transmitter, saw that the dials were glowing and heard a faint hum from the speakers. He noted the dial settings. They had been talking to someone a long way off – anything from six hundred to six thousand kilometres away.

‘Can you remember if the messages came at any specific times?’

Kirchtum’s brow creased, and then he nodded. ‘Ja. Yes, I think so. In the mornings. Early. Six o’clock. Then at midday . . .’

‘Six in the evening and again at midnight?’

‘Something like that, yes. But not quite.’

‘Just before the hour, or just after, yes?’

‘That is right.’

‘Anything else?’

The doctor paused, thought again, and then nodded. ‘Ja. I know they have to send a message when news comes that you are leaving Salzburg. They have a man watching . . .’

‘The hotel?’

‘No. I heard the talk. He is watching the road. He is to telephone when you drive away and they have to make a signal with the radio. They must use special words . . .’

‘Can you remember them?’

‘Something like the package is posted to Paris.’

That sounded par for the course, Bond thought. Cloak and dagger. The Russians, like the Nazis before them, read too many bad espionage novels.

‘Were there any other special words?’

‘Yes, they used others. The man at the other end calls himself Hawk’s Wing – I thought it strange.’

‘And here?’

‘Here they call themselves Macabre.’

‘So, when the radio comes on, the other end says something like, “Macabre this is Hawk’s Wing . . .”’

‘Over.’

‘Over, yes. And, “Come in Hawk’s Wing.”’

‘This is just how they say it, yes.’

‘Why haven’t any of your staff come to this office, or alerted the police? There must have been noise. I have used a gun.’

Kirchtum shrugged. ‘The noise of your gun might have been heard from the windows, but the windows only. My office is soundproofed because sometimes there are disturbing noises from the clinic. This is why they opened the windows here. They opened them a few times a day for the circulation of air. It can get most heavy in here with the soundproofing. Even the windows are soundproofed with the double glaze.’

Bond nodded and glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven forty-five. Hawk’s Wing would be making his call at any time, and he had already figured that Quinn’s man would be stationed somewhere near the E11 autobahn. In fact he probably had all exit roads watched. Nice and professional. Far better than just one man at the hotel.

But he was now playing for time. Quinn had stopped twisting on the floor, and Bond was already beginning to work out a scheme that would take care of him. The man had been in the game a long time, and his experience and training would make him hard to crack, even under ideal interrogation conditions; violence would be counter- productive. There was, he knew, only one way to get at Stephen Quinn.

He went over and knelt beside the trussed figure. ‘Quinn,’ he said softly, and saw the hate in the sidelong, painful glance. ‘We need your co-operation.’

Quinn grunted through the makeshift gag. It was clear that in no way would Quinn co-operate.

‘I know the telephone is insecure, but I’m calling Vienna for a relay to London. I want you to listen very carefully.’

He went over to the desk, lifted the receiver and dialled 0222-43-16-08, the Tourist Board offices in Vienna, where he knew there would be an answering machine at this time of night. He held the receiver away from his ear so that Quinn would at least hear a muffled answer. When it came, Bond put the receiver very close to his ear, simultaneously pressing the rest button.

‘Predator,’ he said softly. Then, after a pause, ‘Yes. Priority for London to copy and action soonest. Rome’s gone off the rails.’ He paused again, as though listening. ‘Yes, working for Centre. I have him, but we need more. I want a snatch team at Flat 28, 48 Via Barberini – it’s next to the JAL offices. Lift Tabitha Quinn and hold for orders. Tell them to alert Hereford and call in one of the psychos if M doesn’t want dirty hands.’

Behind him, he heard Quinn grunting, getting agitated. A threat to his wife was the only thing that would have any effect.