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get to his room unseen. Once there he took a quick very hot shower, cleaned
off the lacerations in his arm, which looked slightly red and swollen, and
made a more permanent bandage from a couple of handkerchiefs. He dressed in
blazer and slacks and then returned downstairs again.
The elderly waiter was nodding off behind the small reception desk.
"You work long hours, my friend." Bond shook him by the shoulder.
"Ach." The waiter slowly opened his eyes. "I don't sleep much these days. You
get older, you don't need so much sleep. What can I do for you?"
Bond asked if he knew a reliable taxi service, "I want to get to Munich as
quickly as possible."
"How quickly?"
"Now. Straightaway."
"My brother. He's stupid enough to go anywhere at any time. Wait." He dialed a
number and proceeded to have an agitated conversation with somebody he called
Wolfie. Putting a hand over the mouthpiece, he grinned. "He'll do it, but
you'll have to make it worth his while."
After a little haggling they settled on a price. Bond paid his hotel bill and
went back to finish his packing. Fifteen minutes later he carried the garment
bag and the briefcase, repacked with the weapons in the safe compartment,
downstairs and found the waiter's brother chatting in the small foyer.
The brother turned out to be older than the waiter, and wore thick-tensed
glasses, but he grabbed the bags and set off toward his car. Before following
him, Bond pushed a handful of notes into the waiter's hand and half whispered,
"You've never seen me, okay?"
"I never see anybody. That's how you get from being a teenager in Hitler's
Germany. It always pays never to see or hear anything."
Wolfie appeared to be under the impression that he was a Formula One driver,
but he still took well over an hour and a half to get to Munich Airport. There
were only four really frightening incidents during the drive, and Bond paid
up, hurrying into the almost deserted airport to find that he had a very long
wait, as there were no flights to London until a British Airways departure at
seven-thirty in the morning. There were seats on the flight, so he managed to
exchange his Lufthansa ticket, to the delight of the young woman at the BA
desk.
Speed was essential, he thought, once he arrived in London, so he did not
check in any luggage. His next step was to use a telephone carefully enough
not to give any prior warnings to the person whose voice he carried on the
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tape in his pocket.
Using a credit card, he called Bill Tanner at his home number and very quickly
laid the news on him, covering both Max Tarn's bid for a Fourth Reich in
Germany and the name of the person who had betrayed MicroGlobe One and the
entire country.
"You're certain?" Tanner was as shaken as Bond had been.
"One hundred percent proof positive, Bill. Here's what I want you to do." He
outlined the exact steps that needed to be taken in the morning. "I'll call
Flicka just before the flight departure," he ended. "You can both meet me; but
for heaven's sake have everything else fixed."
"It'll all be done." Tanner was about to close the line when Bond asked if
they still employed Burke and Hare.
"We certainly do."
"Better have them on hand as well."
Burke and Hare were nicknames for Bill Burkeshaw and Tony Hairman, the two
most experienced inquisitors who worked for the Intelligence Service. They
would certainly be needing them if things were to run to a smooth climax.
He found a seat in front of one of the airport television sets where you could
watch CNN in English. It was positioned so that he had an uninterrupted view
of the whole concourse, and he remained there until the British Airways flight
was called. Only then did he use the telephone again to call Fredericka von
Grüsse, who answered brightly.
He gave her the flight number and time of arrival at Heathrow, tersely telling
her to meet him, closing the line quickly.
The BA Airbus 360 landed at exactly eight-thirty local time  a two-hour trip
with a time difference of one hour between Munich and London.
Flicka embraced him as though he had been away for a month, not just a couple
of days. Bill Tanner stood to one side, then clasped his hand.
"Everything done?" Bond asked, and Tanner nodded without speaking.
"What the hell's going on?" Flicka looked confused.
"You'll see." He gave her a mischievous smile. "Hope you didn't do anything
rash, like bringing a rental car and driver out, because we're heading
straight for the Home Office in Bill's car."
She gave a resigned sigh. "Might as well talk to a brick wall."
Everyone except M was gathered in the reading room at the Home Office, and two
members of the Security Service loitered in the passageway outside the door.
"Ah, our wanderer returns." The Minister spoke with a little surprise.
"Tanner, you didn't tell us that Captain Bond was back."
"He wasn't, sir. Not when I spoke with you early this morning."
"With your permission, Minister, I'd like to tell you exactly what I've been
doing in Germany."
"Of course. Go ahead. Nobody's going to stop you."
So Bond gave what he later called his "recital," particularly stressing the
facts concerning Tarn's German citizenship and the scene he had witnessed on
the previous evening. When he came to the end, the Minister asked if he could
be excused for a moment. "I have someone coming over from the Foreign Office." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]