Man From Barbarossa

‘What the hell happened?’ Bond asked, now sitting on the edge of the bed once the doctor had left. ‘And why the hell did he put me out?’

Tanner took a deep breath. ‘Someone used common sense for a change. When things started to roll, they sent the doc and one of the private ambulances in that direction – the doc was on duty. He was briefed to make sure that, if either you or Pete were injured, you were to be taken out of it for a while. As it turned out, the initiative was correct. A lot of cops and civilians were about. You just might have said something we didn’t want broadcast.’

Bond thought for a minute. ‘Okay. So what actually happened before I went down?’

‘Hope you can fill in some of the blanks, James. M’s waiting for me to talk with you. How much did you see?’

He told his story, leaving nothing out. When he got to the Scarsdale Villas incident, he shook his head as though blaming himself for what had happened. ‘I recognised the Volks from the plates. It wasn’t difficult because I’ve been bringing myself up to scratch on most things. It was on a list of secondary vehicles tied to embassy staffs and I’d seen it only a couple of days ago. It belonged to Krysim – Oleg Ivanovich, if I remember correctly. Second Secretary Soviet Embassy. Moscow Centre’s third man in London. It was him. After all he’s been here for three years and I’ve come across him a number of times.’

‘You’re certain he was there?’

‘Absolutely. Positive. Saw him quite clearly going into the house with the Adore woman. I was going straight back to the van to radio in. I know a car tried to swat me, but . . .’

‘You did some little tricks,’ Tanner supplied. ‘Proper stunt-man games. Could’ve broken your neck . . .’

‘Better than being smashed to bits against that wall. Who was it? Rampart?’

‘The same. Major Henri Rampart. He was out to shut you up. Made a mess of the Rover he was driving . . .’

‘There was shooting,’ Bond recalled.

‘There was indeed. Causing us no end of a panic. Pete Natkowitz was behind Henri. We didn’t even know he was carrying. He put three rounds into the rear tyres of the Rover.’

‘So you got them all?’

Tanner shrugged, a rather hopeless gesture. ‘Not one. Henri slewed the car away from the wall and took off on the rims of his rear wheels. Made it into Lexham Gardens which is what? Couple of blocks south? Quite a long way, and nobody on his tail, though there were plenty of witnesses. The local law are still questioning people, and we’ve got the Branch to do some PR – gangland violence, that kind of thing. In fact, M was still working on them a few minutes ago when I checked. The law have Natkowitz in the local nick.’ He paused, his eyes making a God- imploring movement which suggested they had been through an all-time cock-up of Olympic standards. ‘But, with luck, we’ll have him out quickly. Also, with luck, the morning papers’ll carry a story about rival criminals shooting it out in Kensington. No terrorist connections, no questions.’ He wrinkled his nose, then again added, ‘With luck.’

‘That’ll please the local residents of snooty W8.’ Bond frowned. ‘You didn’t get anybody?’

Bill Tanner gave another sigh. His eyes lost contact with Bond’s and he shook his head.

‘You lost them? You lost the adorable Adore and the Russian as well?’

‘I’m afraid so. We had people there, with the law, pretty fast. Birds had all flown by the look of things. They’d also cleared out their hotel rooms. Bills paid, all that kind of thing.’

Bond cursed. Then, ‘Make any sense of it, Bill?’

‘None at all; and we have the problem of what to do about the Soviet Embassy. A senior French lady spook and a notable member of their counterterrorist unit slide into the country waving false flags, then set up a meet with the Russians’ number three legal. What do we make of it? Even with the prevailing goodwill, O.I. Krysim will swear he sold the VW weeks ago and his suffering brothers’ll say he was at home all night playing billiards. I should imagine M’ll have something to say to his opposite number in Paris, but . . .’

‘Maybe I can give him a cause.’ Bond got to his feet and took a couple of exploratory steps, like a man testing the water on a sea shore, but it seemed the giddiness and nausea had gone altogether. His jacket was slung over the back of a chair and he reached inside for the stat of Mlle Adore’s official, and impertinent, card. Explaining the story about a French test of British security, he handed the paper to Tanner.

The Chief of Staff grunted and shook his head. ‘Never seen anything like this before, and I’ll bet my pension that’s rubbish, but we can try. How y’feeling, James?’

‘I’ll live. Shoulder’s bruised. That’s my own stupid fault, but there wasn’t much of an option.’ He blinked and moved his head around. ‘Don’t think there’s any concussion. Bit annoyed at the doc putting me out. I’d have kept quiet, and you should all have known that.’ Then, as though the thought had just come into his head, ‘I suppose the Old Man’s pretty furious. He wanted us to be up up and away tomorrow.’

Tanner nodded. ‘You might still be off tomorrow night. He considers it important. Even sent you some private reading. I’m to sit here until you’ve done with this.’ He had reached into his briefcase on the floor beside him and pulled out a slim buff-coloured file. ‘You read, James, and I then destroy. M’s playing whatever this is very close to his chest.’

Bond opened the folder. It was headed General Yevgeny Andreavich Yuskovich: Profile. Below the heading was a photograph of a man who looked more like a stereotype scientist than a Red Army general. A slim, almost ascetic, certainly scholarly, face. Clear eyes looked into the camera from behind heavy-rimmed spectacles. Below the picture was a physical description.

Bond frowned, then remembered how M had cautioned him. General Yuskovich was a direct first cousin to Josif Vorontsov through the latter’s mother. The lineage was detailed on the next page where a small note had been added, dated that day, January 2nd, 1991.

To all subscribers, reference Operation Fallen Timbers. Given the initial claims that the Chushi Pravosudia (Scales of Justice) have snatched Josif Vorontsov and are insisting the Soviet government accept him as a war criminal, the knowledge of Vorontsov’s blood relationship with General Yuskovich must be taken into account. Bearing in mind that Yuskovich is a very powerful military leader, who has shown himself to be highly critical of the current leadership and its aims and objects, we cannot rule out attempts by this officer to undermine any positive action taken by the Kremlin. It should be noted that he has retained his place within the military hierarchy because of his undoubted expertise in his field: namely, nuclear ordnance and delivery systems.

The note was written in M’s familiar hand and the green ink he invariably used. Bond turned the page to read the brief, but succinct details of Yuskovich’s career, which was impressive.

Born in 1924, Yuskovich had joined the Red Army in 1942 where he passed the short junior commander’s course and went straight to the front as an artillery battery commander. Following the Great Patriotic War, as the Soviets refer to World War II, he attended the famed Frunze Military Academy, graduating in 1950. From there his career had been meteoric. First, as a major, he commanded a rocket battery becoming Chief of Staff only a decade later, when the Soviets had begun to make significant strides in delivery systems and rocketry in general.

From 1963 to 1965, Yuskovich attended the General Staff Academy, graduating with the coveted Gold Medal and obtaining the rank of major general serving in Turkestan, at the Ministry of Defence, and, later, as Commander- in-Chief, Southern Theatre Forces. He became C-in-C Rocket Forces in 1985 and had remained in that command ever since.

His military writings included learned papers on strategic matters, ranging from titles such as ‘The Mighty Guard over the achievements of Socialism’ to his most recent paper, published in the autumn of 1989, ‘In Constant Combat Readiness.’

There were further notes which made it clear that, while he had clashed with the Kremlin leadership on many occasions, he remained the most experienced officer on rocketry, missiles, nuclear weapons and a whole range of delivery systems.

An unidentified Kremlin-watcher had added a note to the effect that the general was probably the most powerful hardline officer within the Central Committee of the Communist Party to which he had been elected as late as 1986. Yuskovich, in spite of his obvious anti-perestroika and glasnost views, had retained his position within the CC CPSU because he was simply the best military mind on his chosen subject. The man, the author maintained, still posed a real threat to the current leadership and the section ended on a sombre note. ‘Yuskovich is an officer to be watched with great caution.