James Bond - Win Lose Or Die Part 9

10.

Monarchs of the Sea

James Bond felt the slight tremor under his feet, and with it the old frisson returned. There was nothing in the world like being at sea in a capital ship: the ordered routine, the feeling of men working as a quiet, well-trained team, the regularity of events, even in a crisis. To Bond, all this returned in a warm shower of nostalgia. No, it was better, because of the very special feeling of serving in this ship.

HMS Invincible was a relatively recent addition to the Royal Navy's history. In some ways she had already become a legend: certainly the first kind of ship of her type - 19,500 tons of platform from which to launch practically any type of operation, including the nuclear option with the Green Parrot variable-yield weapons, capable of being carried by the Sea Harriers, to the Ikt versions, which could be dropped by Sea Kings as anti-submarine bombs. Invincible could also carry a Commando for armed a.s.sault, and, at this moment. 42 Commando, Royal Marines, was on board.

The ship's air group consisted of ten Sea Harriers, eleven anti-submarine warfare (ASW) Sea Kings, two anti-clcctronic-warfare (AEW) Sea Kings and one Lynx helicopter, configured for Exocet-type decoy duties. Invincible was a very full ship, though officially, and technically, it was not even cla.s.sed as an aircraft-carrier. Invincible was a Through Deck Cruiser (TDC).

Back in 1966. the then British government had cancelled a new building programme which would give the Royal Navy a number of conventional carriers for fixed-wing aircraft. In the following year a new programme went into action. What they required were light command cruisers with facilities for a number of helicopters. The whole political subject, mainly involving costing and pulling back on defence expenditure, was sensitive, but the success of the V.STOL Harrier aircraft changed things in a dramatic manner.

Plans were again changed, though the politicians still clung to the name TDC as opposed to aircraft-carrier. Three such ships were commissioned, and Ihe success and lessons learned during the Falklands War had made for even further alterations. The exercise. Operation Landsea '89, was to be the first chance for Invincible to show her paces following [he extensive refit, which included new armament, electronics, communications and the 12 Harrier ski-jump which had replaced the original 7" ramp.

The Through Deck' principle remained, for practically ail the ship's equipment was carried below decks, apart from the complexities in the long, almost conventional island which ran along the centre of the starboard side using over half of the main deck's 677 feet, bristling with tall antennae, radar dishes, and other domed detection devices. Most of the information required in the island was accessed from electronics buried deep below the flight-deck.

Invincible and her sister ships Ill.u.s.trious and Ark Royal, were powered by four mighty Rolls-Royce TM3B twin-shaft gas turbines, designed on a modular principle, making maintenance and repair an easier job. Invincible. Ill.u.s.trious and Ark Royal were quite simply the largest gas-turhine-powered ships in the world.

Once more he fell the slight tremor and rise under his feel. Bond sat down on his bunk, took out the Browning and began to clean it. Apart from the Royal Marine detachment on board, he was the only officer who carried a personal hand-gun: though he was most conscious that two armed marines stood only a few feet for'ard of his cabin, stationed there, on the port side, as a guard on the series of cabins that would be used by the visiting VIP bra.s.s, and already partially inhabited by the Wren detachment.

As he sat down, so there was the tell-tale click all sea-going members of the Royal Navy recognise as the Tannoy system about to broadcast either one of the many routine orders, or bugle calls, which tell off the time in a similar manner to the religious "hours' in a monastery.

But this was not a normal message. 'D'ye hear there! D'ye hear there! This is the Captain.' Throughout the ship. Bond knew that all ranks would stop everything but the most necessary duties to listen.

'As you all know. the Captain - Rear-Admiral Sir John Walmsley - continued, 'the land, sea and air exercise called Operation Landsea '89, will commence at 23.59 hours. You will have already been briefed about this exercise by your Divisional Commanders, so you know it's not in the normal run of similar training such as Ocean Safari. I want to remind you that, as from 23.59. we will be operating under actual rules of war and rules of engagement, apart from using the big bangs, of course. This message is to be relayed to all other ships in what is to be known as Taskforce Kiev, and we will darken ship at exactly 23.59. You are also aware that this evening we will be receiving aboard three very senior officers and their staffs. There will be women among ihe staffs, and there is a detachment of Wrens aboard at this moment. I have no reason to repeat what your divisional officers will have already told you. though I will: fraternisation with the female officers and ratings aboard, apart from normal and obvious duties, is strictly forbidden. Anyone either attempting to, or actually fraternising can expect the harshest possible penalty. Apart from that . . .'there was a long pause: the Rear-Admiral had a quirky sense of humour, 'good luck to you all.'

Bond smiled to himself. The entire message had been blandly understated, for this certainly was a different type of exercise, if only for the strange mixture of who were Red Side, and who were Blue. To inject an even deeper than usual *fog of war' some units of the NATO powers remained in their real-life situations; while others were split in half - some Red and some Blue. For instance this very Taskforce consisted of ships of the Royal Navy, but were Red. other ships, particularly submarines of the Royal Navy, were Blue.

Bond had read his own sealed orders, after coming aboard, and had sat in on Walmsley's briefing to the Executive Staff.

The Exercise briefing was in three parts. Political situation; current strategic situation at the commencement of Landsea '89; objective of all parties involved, with an accent on their own powerful Taskforce Kiev.

The fictional scenario was shrewd and complex: shortly before Christmas there had been a major military attempt to take over Chairman Gorbachev's ruling power in the USSR. This action, spearheaded by high-ranking officers of the Russian Army, Navy and Air Force, coupled with some ambitious members of Ihe Polithuro - all disenchanted with Gorbachev's glasnost - had gone off ;it halt-c.o.c.k, bul was far from being a failure.

The bulk of the military power remained anti-Gorbachev and now threatened to take their own idealism out of Russia, and draw world attention to the changing events in the Soviet Union, by engaging the NATO powers in a series of tactical operations designed So show they could rattle sabres as loudly as anybody.

The USSR was, as Gorbachev had known from the first, heading towards a huge, possibly catastrophic, financial and economic crash. Gorbachev's way had been a more open system of government which would a.s.sist in his begging-bowl diplomacy. The military, and more hawkish members of the regime still held to the idea that one could bargain only from power. Glusnoxt was. to them, a watered down version of a great political ideology. The USSR had to show strength, and. they argued, the only way to get help from the cla.s.s-ridden, consumer-orientated West was to show strength and ability. They wanted to threaten the West - blackmail by force to get a.s.sistance.

That night, elements of Red Side- representing Soviet forces -would cross into the West, and start aggressive covert military operations against NATO bases, throughout Europe. These actions would be carefully limited and controlled. In reality, the troops would be members of the United Slates Tenth Special Forces Group (Airborne), and two troops of Delta Force-each troop consisting of four four-man squads. The choices had not been arbitrary, for the units bore a close resemblance to the Soviet Airborne Force, which does not come directly under the Red Army chain of command; and highly trained Spetsnaz - 'Forces at Designation' - who come directly under the GRU (the elitist Military Intelligence) and are also known as'diversionary troops'.

US Air Force facilities within the NATO boundaries could provide air back-up to Red Side if things got out of hand, though no USAF bases in the UK were to be used. The Royal Air Force, and remaining British and US Forces in Europe, would act as their real selves, as would United States Naval forces. They would be Blue Side - the goodies - while the British 2nd Parachute Rcgimenl; the Special Air Service; 42 Commando, together with Taskforce Kiev would be Red Side - the baddies.

At 23.59 hours - which is a Naval euphemism for midnight -Taskforce Kiev would be approximately fifteen miles off the Belgian coast, steaming west. The Force was made up of the flagship. Invincible; six Type 42 destroyers; and four Type 21 frigates.

They would, at (he start of the exercise, be aware that they had been shadowed since leaving their Russian bases - their main opponents being their own Royal Naval colleagues, the submariners. So. Taskforce Kiev would be hard-pressed to make their dash through the narrow F,nglish Channel, around the Bay of Biscay, heading for Gibraltar, where they were to land 42 Commando and. with their considerable presence, seal off the Mediterranean. All this was a calculated risk. Red Side did not believe the Western forces would precipitate matters by escalating the crisis.

The final objective of both sides was to come to a successful cessation of hostilities, not allowing actions to escalate into anything more than a tactical show offeree and guerrilla warfare. For the first time, politicians of the NATO powers would be called upon to make true political decisions. The idea! ending would be the withdrawal of all Soviet units, and a move to the bargaining table, where Gorbachev's future - indeed the future of the Soviet Union - would he thrashed out.

The scenario was neat and interesting, apart from one facet. Bond, and some of the intelligence chiefs, already knew that playing games with real army, air force and naval units, in this realistic manner, made some form of terrorist intrusion a heady temptation. BAST were poised for some specific action against Invincible, and that was no surprise to (H)7 when he thought of who would eventually be aboard the ship, for this was the lightest secret of all. the final box of a Chinese puzzle of boxes. This last secret of Landsea '89 was coded Stewards' Meeting, and this was Bond's true reason for being in charge of security aboard Invincible. Already, his brushes with BAST had proved they were a ruthless and determined organisation. What n.o.body knew was their size, true efficiency in a critical situation, and the final aims of their possible a.s.sault on invincible.

Ba.s.sam Baradj, most recently in (he guise of the smooth Toby Lellenberg, station chief of Northanger. was the only person who could have [old Bond, or anyone else, the real truth about BAST: its strength, and. more particularly, its true aims.

Baradj was certainly all the things the many dossiers said about him - and they all said the same thing: immense wealth, former close friend of Arafat, ex-member of the PLO; no photographs; could not be tied into any known terrorist operation in the past twenty years. Indeed that was the sum total of the man, apart from the varied number of descriptions taken from a variety of sources.

True, he was, as they suspected, the Viper of BAST, on the back of which rode the Snake, the Man and the Cal. If it had been possible to ask any. or all, of these last three, each would have given slightly different answers the questions, what is BAST? what are its true aims?

Only the short, sleek man known as Ba.s.sam Baradj was in a posiiion to give the correct answers; though it was unlikely he would do so. for they were locked tighlly in his head.

In a couple of words,.the answers were Ba.s.sam Baradj and Ba.s.sam Baradj, He was BAST and he iaa its true aim. If you asked the further question, how did Baradj gain his truly immense wealth'.' it was plain (o see. but only if you had the eyes to see it.

It was not strictly true that there were no available photographs of Ba.s.sam Baradj. There were many. The New York Police Departmeni had several, as did the Los Angeles Police Department, and Seattle. Washington. New Orleans. Paris and Scotland Yard, London. Most were filed under F - for Fraud; and they carried varied names: Bennie Benjamin aka Ben Brostov, Vince Phillips and Conrad Decca: and those were only for starters in the files of the NYPD.

Over the past twenty years Baradj had gained quite a reputation, but under many different guises and modus ope and i.

Ba.s.sam Baradj had been born plain Robert Besavitsky, in the old h.e.l.l's Kitchen area of New York. His father. Roman Besavitsky. was of mongrel immigrant siock. part-Russian. part-Rumanian, with a strange dash of Scottish via his great-great grandfather on his mother's side. Eva Besavitsky, Robert's mother, was of a similar mixture: part Irish, part French, with a tincture of Arab - not that you would have guessed it from her maiden name, which was Evangeline Shottwood.

Robert Besavitsky was. therefore, the product of half a dozen other mongrels, and, as such, was born with two great talents: ambition and the ability to sense when ii was time to move on.

As a growing boy. Robert was well and truly streetwise by the age often. By the time he reached fourteen he knew exactly what one needed to survive in this world - money; for money was the direct route to power. If he could make money, the power would come later. Me made his first million by the age of twenly-one.

It started with the seemingly accidental find of an automatic pistol, shoved into a garbage can in a back alley off Mulberry Street in the Italian area. It was a Luger and had a full magazine, but for one bullet. Twenty-four hours after finding this weapon. Robert had carried out four quick stick-up jobs on Liquor Stores, which netted him six hundred dollars. The following day he sold the weapon for a further one hundred dollars. Then he set about spending wisely. He bought clothes: two good suits, four shirts, three ties, underwear and two pairs of shoes.

While on the buying spree, he also lifted a silver cigarette case and lighter, a pigskin briefcase and matching wallet. This left him with one hundred and fifty dollars. Fifty went into his pocket, the remaining hundred opened his first bank account. What followed would have been legend if the cops and the Feds had ever managed to interconnect him with all the fiddles, some of which were not just fiddles, but fully orchestrated capital crimes.

During the past two decades, Robert had been married twice, under different names. Both women were obscenely wealthy, and both apparently died accidentally within a year of the marriage. The first was a widow. Robert, under the name of William Deeds, had managed to ingratiate himself with a stockbroker called Fineslone. Jerry Finestone knew all the tricks of the stock market, and took a liking to young Bill Deeds, who proved to be an apt pupil. After six months poor old Jerry walked into an elevator that was not there, but thirty floors down. Later the coroner heard there had been a wiring fault which had allowed the doors to open. It just so happened that Robert, or Bill or whatever you chose to call him, was by way of being an electrical expert, hut who knew? Good old Jerry left three and a half million to his widow, Ruth, who, after an appropriate period of mourning married Bill Deeds. Sadly, she followed her first husband within the year: a nasty business which involved a Cadillac and an unmarked road which led lo a sheer drop. The contractors, who swore Ihis cul-de-cliff had been well marked, lost the case when Bill Deeds sued them for one and a quarter million.

Thus set up. Bill Deeds moved on - to Los Angeles, where he made the money work for him. and married a movie star. By this time his name had changed to Vince Phillips. The movie star was a big name and the headlines were even bigger when they found her accidentally eleclrocuted in her Malibu beach house. Another one and a half million pa.s.sed to Vince Phillips formerly Bill Deeds, in reality Robert Besavitsky Two out of two was enough of that game. Robert altered his name yearly from then on. and was involved in several dozen stock-market frauds - hence the name changes - before he turned his hand to buing and selling. He would sell anything as long as he could buy cheap and sell at a profit, and he certainly never asked questions about the things he purchased. That was how he became a good friend to Ya.s.ser Arafat, and even a member of the PLO.

It was at the time when the PLO needed a regular supply of arms and. as it turned out, Bennie Benjamin tka(truly known as) Robert Besavitsky had made a good friend of an unscrupulous Quartermaster with an Infantry regiment. This was how Rennie got hold of hundreds of a.s.sault rifles and automatic pistols, together with thousands of rounds of ammunition and four large drums of Composition C-4 disguised as drilling mud. Ninety per cent of C-4 is RDX. the most powerful plastique explosive in the world, the rest was a binding material. It is known by various names these days, including its Czechoslovak clone. Semtex. All the arms and explosives ended up with the FLO during the time when thai organisation was branded as a terrorist army.

It was ihen that Besavilsky saw there could be a possible future in terrorism. He spent time with the PLO and learned a few tips, then went back to buying and selling - world-wide, under dozens of aliases, dealing in anything from stolen paintings lo rare collectors' motor cars. For many years he stayed well ahead of the law. But he was no fool. He liked a luxurious lifestyle and knew that it was possible the time might eventually come when they could catch up with him. Just as he knew that one really major killing could set him up for life and allow him to retire in exceptional luxury, and never have to look over his shoulder again.

This was in 1985: the year he decided to make international , terrorism work in his favour. It was also the year when his name changed to Ba.s.sam Baradj, and it was as Baradj that he went out into the streets and hiding-holes of Europe and the Middle East in search of converts. He had links with a number of disenchanted terrorists and. in turn, they had other links.

Baradj had always had an unhealthy interest in demonology. Now he used it to his own purpose and founded BAST, dragging into his net the three very experienced people who would act as his staff - Saphii Boudai, Ali Al Adwan, and Abou Hamarik. Bait for them was twofold. First, a blow of huge dimensions against the corrupt Superpowers, plus the United Kingdom. Second, a very large financial gain which would, of course, a.s.sist the cause of true freedom everywhere. The Brotherhood of Anarchy and Secret Terrorism had a nice ring to it. but Baradj saw it as one of those meaningless t.i.tles that would draw a certain type of person. His three lieutenants trawled the terrorist backwaters and, by the end of 1986, they had over four hundred men and women on iheir books.

The Viper - Baradj - gave them the first orders. No member of BAST was to take part in any terrorist operation until he had cleared it. He okayed several small bombings, just to get a AST's name on the map. But as far as the overall plan went, there would be one, and only one, operation he would fund. This would take time to mature, but the returns would be enormous: billions, maybe trillions, of dollars.

Ba.s.sam Baradj, cheapskate, big-time fraud merchant, buyer and seller extraordinary, spent the next years gaining information with which he could prepare the plan he was about to play out on the international stage. When it was over. BAST could fall apart for all he cared; for Baradj intended to take the proceeds, run, change his name, paper and possibly his face, with a little help from a plastic surgeon. Now he was nearly at the most sensitive point in his operation, for he alone - outside of the tiny circle of Navy and intelligence officers - knew the secret of what they called Stewards' Meeting. Apart from the dupe Petty Officer whom his men had enlisted, Baradj had at leas! two agents aboard Invincible. One had provided the essential clue to Stewards' Meeting, the other had people who would obey during ihe plot thai lay ahead. Once the clock began to run on his operation. Baradj considered the entire business would take only forty-eight hours, maybe sixty al the outside, for the Superpowers would cave in very quickly. After that. Baradj would cease to exist, and BAST would be penniless.

When he had abandoned Northanger. Baradj had gone to Rome for a couple of days. From Rome he flew into London. Gatwiek as a transfer pa.s.senger to Gibraltar. There. Abou Hamarik. 'The Man', waited for him al that British home from home. The Rock Hotel. For once the men did not exchange the BAST pa.s.sword, 'Health depends on strength' - a pa.s.sword taken very seriously by all BAST members except Baradj who thought it to be gobbledegook. and did not, therefore, realise thai it was one of the tiny dues thai had leaked to Intelligence and Security services world-wide, who also took it seriously: to the point of a.n.a.lysing variations on its possible meaning.

But. this time, for no other reason than laxity, the words were not exchanged, therefore none of the listening-post computers picked it up. The advent of a pair of high-ranking members of BAST went undetected in Gibraltar. Tf they had exchanged this profoundly nonsensical form of greeting things might well have been different.

James Bond saw Clover Pennington for the first time since their meeting over Christmas, in the wardroom of Invincible. Certain sea-going regulations had been altered to allow the Wrens and their officer to do their job with ease, and First Officer Pennington was, as the bearded Sir John Walmsley put it, 'A delightful adornment to our ship's company.' Not one officer in the wardroom missed the slightly lascivious look in the Captain's eyes as he gallantly kissed Clover's hand and lingered over releasing it. Eventually. Clover escaped from the senior officers and came over to Bond. who was nursing a gla.s.s of Badoit, having forsworn alcohol until the operation had been successfully concluded. She looked fit, relaxed and very fetching in the trousers and short jacket Wren officers wore, for the sake of modesty, when on harbour or shipboard duty, and aircraft maintenance.

'You all right, sir?' Clover smiled al him, her dark eyes wide and stirring with pleasure, leaving no doubt that she was happy to see him.

"Fine, Clover. Ready for the fray'.''

'! hope it's not going to be a fray. I just want it all over and done with. I gather that I defer to you in all security matters.'

'Thiit's what the rules say. They also say it to the Americans and the Russians, though I really can't see either of them deferring to anyone. The Old Man tells me he's going to make it plain to the whole lot. They might well obey for the first part, but. when we come to Stewards' Meeting. I don't see them budging from their respective charges and telling me anything.' The cipher. Stewards' Meeting, was. as far as invincible was concerned, known only to Sir John Walmsley. Clover Pennington. James Bond, the three visiting Admirals and their bodyguards, to whom the information was essential. Even when they got to thai particular phase the present circle of knowledge would not be considerably widened. The entire ship's company mieht see things, and guess others, but would never be formally told.

'We know who the minders are. Jame . . . sir?' He nodded, glaneing around as officers drifted in to dinner. 'Our people're easy, just a pair of heavies from the Branch -both ex-Navy and done up as Flag Officers; the Yanks've got their Secret Service bodyguards. Four of them. As for the Russians, almost certainly K.GB. four in all. including a woman who's described as a Naval Attache.' 'Any names?'

'Yes. All unmemorable, apart from the Russian lady who's called Nikola Ratnikov. a name to conjure with . . .'

'I've already marked her card, sir.' Clover gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. 'Whatever she's like. I'll think of her as "NikkiThe Rat".'

Bond allowed her one of his neon-sign smiles: on and off. 'Let's eat.' he said 'I've a feeling it's going to be a long hard night.'

One of the Sea Kings hovered off the port bow. This was normal operational practice during Hying operations. One helicopter was always airborne to act as a search-and-rescue machine should an aircraft end up m the drink, From Flight Operations, high on the superstructure known to all as the island, Bond could see the helicopter's warning lights blinking as it drifted forward keeping in station with the ship.

'Here they come.' The Commander in charge of Flight Ops snapped his night gla.s.ses up and swept the sky behind the stern. 'Our man's leading them in,'

You could see them with the naked eye - not their shapes, hut the warning lights of three helis stacked from around five hundred feet, at a good thousand-yard intervals, up to about a thousand feet.

'Rulers of their own nay-vee-s,' Bond parodied the Gilbert and Sullivan song from IIMS Pinafore.

A young officer chuckled, and, as the first chopper, another Sea King, came in and put down, taxiing forward at the instructions from the deck-handling officer, the Commander joined in. singing, 'For they are monarchs of the sea.'

The second machine touched the deck, it was a big Mil Mi-14 in the Soviet Naval livery of white and grey (NATO designation Haze) making a din they could hear up on the bridge above Flight Operations. Bond repeated his line. 'Rulers of their own Nay-vec-s." adding. 'I think that one really has brought along all of his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts.'

As the rotors slowed to idle, so the final craft did a rather fancy rolling-landing, touching down right on the stern threshold. This looked like an update of the Bell model 212. and carried US markings, but no designation and no Wavy Sivery. n.o.body in Flight Operations had seen anything like it. 'I want those choppers off my deck fast,' the Commander barked at the young officer acting as communications link with the deck-handling officer. Then he turned back to Bond. 'We've got two Sea Harriers out there, fully juiced and carrying operational equipment: real bangs. Sidewinders. 50mm cannon, the works. Don't know what's behind it. but the Captain gave the orders. Round the clock readiness, with a four-minute ability lo switch them for unarmed I larriers. b.l.o.o.d.y dangerous if you ask me.'

The three helicopters were discharging their pa.s.sengers with speed, each machine being met by a senior officer, a bosun, and several ratings: the senior officer to salute, the bosun to pipe the admiral aboard, and ihe ratings to secure any luggage. Admiral of the Fleet Sir Geoffrey Gould; Admiral Edwin Gudeon. United States Navy; and Admiral Sergei Yevgenne-vich Pauker, Commander-in-Chief of the Soviet Navy, together with their staffs and bodyguards were aboard invincible.

Half an hour later. Bond was ushered into the Captain's day cabin. The three admirals were standing in the centre of the cabin, each nursing a drink, and Rcar-Admiral Sir John Walmsley greeted Bond with a smile, turning to the a.s.sorted bra.s.s from the Royal Navy. United States Navy and the Soviet Navy. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Captain Bond who is in charge of your security arrangements while you're aboard invincible. Bond, this is Admiral of the Fleet. Sir Geoffrey Gould.' Bond stood to attention in front of the smooth-looking, impeccable officer. 'Captain Bond.' Gould had a voice which matched his looks: he was one of those people who always look neat and freshly barbered. 'I'm sure we'll all be safe in your care. 1 have two Flag Officers who have had experience in these matters . . .'

"Gentlemen, Captain Bond is to meet your personal staff, as soon as I've introduced him to you,' Walmsiey broke in quickly. 'I must stress that while you are guests aboard my flagship, your people will take their orders directly from Captain Bond. This is essential to your well-being, and the safety of those who will, eventually, be part of Stewards' Meeting.

'Sure, if that's the way you want to play it. But I've got four guys with me,' Admiral Gudeon's voice was the unpleasant growl of a cantankerous man who always liked his own way, and was never wrong. 'I guess they'll be able to look after me without you doin' much to help them.' Bond did not know if the Admiral meant to be rude, or whether it was merely a long-cultivated manner. 'Bond? . . . Bond . . .'.'" the American continued. '1 knew a Bond, way back at Annapolis. You got any American relatives?'

'I think not. sir. Many friends, but no relatives - not as far as I know, anyway.' Rear-Admiral Walmsley moved a foot, kicking Bond's ankle sharply. But Gudeon seemed oblivious to the tongue-in-cheek answer.

'And,' Walmsley quickly pushed Bond along the line, 'our mosl senior officer here. Admiral Sergei Pauker, Commander-in-Chief of the Soviel Navy.'

"An honour, sir.' Bond looked the man straight in the eyes. Pauker had the rosy cheeks of a Mr Pickwick, but there the likeness ended. The eyes were grey and cold, showing no emotion. Dead eyes, overhung by frosty eyebrows. He had a small mouth, but it did form itself into a surprisingly friendly smile. The main feature of the face, ruddy cheeks apart, was a huge aquiline nose.

'Bond.' he p.r.o.nounced it 'Bound'. 'I think somewhere I have heard the name before. Have you, perhaps, served in your emba.s.sy in Moscow?' He spoke excellent English.

'Not exactly in the emba.s.sy, sir.' Bond gave an almost imperceptible smile.

'But you are known there. I think. In Moscow, I mean.'

'It wouldn't surprise me. sir.'

*Good. Good.' The humour disappeared from his face and the eyes g!a.ed over.

There was no offer of a drink, and Rear-Admiral Walmsley ushered Bond out of the room, like a farmer getting an errant sheep into a van. 'The security people are in Briefing One,' he whispered.

Briefing One was the primary Air-Group Briefing-Room on the port side, amidships and two decks below the officers' quarters. It had been cleared for an hour, so that the security teams could get together, and Bond entered it quickly, going straight into his prepared routine. 'My name's Bond. James Bond. Captain. Royal Navy,' he began, then stopped abruptly. The one woman among the ten large men. was enough to stop anyone or anything. She also spoke before anyone else. 'Captain Bond. I am First Naval Attache to Admiral Pauker. My name is Nikola Ratnikov. My friends call me Nikki. I hope you are to be my friend.'

You could feel the unsettling tension spark through the room, and it was obvious that Nikola Ratnikov had been showing the cold-shoulder to the rest of her colleagues, which must have been irritating to say the least. Comrade Attache Ratnikov would have given a tweak to the loins of even a devout monk, and it would not matter whether the monk was Roman Catholic, Protestant, Buddhist, or Russian Orthodox. She had that indefinable quality about her manner, features and body which made all heteros.e.xual men turn to look twice, and. possibly a third time, if they had the energy left.

Nikki Ratnikov wore a well-tailored Soviet Naval Woman Officer's uniform, which is not flattering to all. There again, Nikki could have made sackcloth and ashes look like Dior. When she moved towards him. hand extended, even Bond felt his knees tremble slightly. She had short, ash-blonde hair, cut in what used to be called a pageboy style, but, from where he stood, it looked like a tempting golden helmet, framing a face of cla.s.sic beauty. It was not the kind of face that Bond usually went for. He preferred slightly blemished good looks, but Nikki's eyes held his for almost a minute, and it was longer before he let go of her hand.

'Hallo, Captain Bond, we've met before.' It was one of the Special Branch men. all done up in a Lieutenant's uniform, complete with the gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of a Flag Officer. 'Brinkley.' he added.

'Yes, of course. Yes. I remember you. Ted Brinkley. right?'

'On the b.u.t.ton, sir.' The Special Branch man looked for al! the world like a Special Branch man in fancy dress, as did his partner. Martin - 'My friends call me 'Moggy" -Camm.

He did the rounds of the other security men. Few had resorted to the bad disguises of the Branch men, and they looked like a very heavy team. The Americans introduced themselves as Joe. Stan, Edgar and Bruce. Bruce was a very tall black officer with an exceptionally bone-crushing handshake, and looked as though he could probably stop a tank with his chest. .loe and Stan seemed to be made-to-measure, off the peg, standard issue 'bullet catchers'. Edgar - 'Call me Ed' - was in a different mould: lean, mean, tense with obvious staying power and taut muscles, he had the battered good looks of one who had seen plenty of action in his time. Bond had him down as the brains of the outfit.

The other three Russians were simply Ivan. Yevgeny and Gennady. Three nice boys. The kind of nice boys you saw popping in and out of KGB facilities, looking after more senior officers. Bond had once seen a trio like this coming out of a building after six men had died - none of them through natural causes.

He tried to engage all of them in polite conversation, unveiling a plan that had been set up on an easel, showing exactly where they were to be stationed, in relation to their charges. Outside, three Petty Officers stood by with cards giving details of the several decks, and their geographic relationship to those parts of Invincible tagged for the visiting VTPs and the bodyguards. Bond explained this to them, went through the emergency drills, making certain the Russian-speakers understood, then wished them a good night's rest, and began to hand them over to the POs.

A light hand rested on his sleeve. '1 think, me you lake to my quarters. Captain Bond?' Nikki stood beside him, close enough for him to catch the him of Bal de Versailles she wore.

'You. I think, get special treatment. Comrade Attache -Nikki.'

She gave him a glittering smile and he noticed her perfect teeth and the inviting mquth. 'Yes, you're quite near my quarters as it happens. I have to hand you over to one of the lady officers we have on board, but it's a nice little walk up to my cabin.' He turned.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, sir.' Clover Pennington stood by the door, her face looking like the wrath of G.o.d. have instructions to escort the Comrade Attache lo her quarters. Show her the ropes, sir.'

'Which ropes?' Nikkfs voice sounded as though she was genuinely puzzled.

'An English saying. Means she's going to show you the way around the ship. This is First Officer Pennington, Nikki. She'll see that you're well looked after.'

'Oh. but Captain Bond, I was thinking you could look after me.'

'Not in a million years,' muttered Clover so thai Bond could hear.

'Best go with her. Nikki. Protocol, really. Perhaps we can talk later on.'

'I also would like that. In your cabin, maybe, yes?' Reluctantly, she allowed Clover to guide her towards the companionway. Nikki looked back and smiled invitingly. First Officer Pennington kepi her eyes to Ihe front.

Bond had just turned in for the night when they darkened ship, righi on 23.59 hours. Ten minutes later, he realised few people were going to get much sleep while the exercise was running, for the klaxon began to blare while the orders came blasting out of the Tannoy system. 'All hands to action stations. Close up, all watches.'

Shortly after ihis, the Captain calmly announced that the whole force had been spread into their approved battle formation, a huge, rough diamond shape, as they were entering Ihe English Channel at full speed. 'Our escorts report a wolf-pack of submarines trying to get inside the screen.' Walmsley's voice was calm, dispa.s.sionate, and Bond imagined it would be just the same if this were the real thing. 'One of our escorts on the starboard side has been challenged by a submarine, and ordered to stop. I'm putting four helicopters into the air on submarine search. If the subs fire on our force, or become more belligerent, our helicopters will go into search-and-destroy mode.'

Bond stretched back on the small bunk, fully dressed. It was almost one-thirty in the morning. He could give it five more minutes before he would need to check out his charges, and make certain all was well.

Thirty seconds later, he was on his feet, springing to the cabin door, answering the pounding on it.