CHAPTER 3
NUMBER 007
Head of S (the section of the Secret Service concerned with the Soviet Union) was so keen on his plan for the destruction of Le Chiffre, and it was basically his own plan, that he took the memorandum himself and went up to the top floor of the gloomy building overlooking Regent’s Park and through the green baize door and along the corridor to the end room.
He walked belligerently up to M’s Chief of Staff, a young sapper who had earned his spurs as one of the secretariat to the Chiefs of Staff committee after having been wounded during a sabotage operation in 1944, and had kept his sense of humour in spite of both experiences.
‘Now look here, Bill. I want to sell something to the Chief. Is this a good moment?’
‘What do you think, Penny?’ The Chief of Staff turned to M’s private secretary who shared the room with him.
Miss Moneypenny would have been desirable but for eyes which were cool and direct and quizzical.
‘Should be all right. He won a bit of a victory at the FO this morning and he’s not got anyone for the next half an hour.’ She smiled encouragingly at Head of S whom she liked for himself and for the importance of his section.
‘Well, here’s the dope, Bill.’ He handed over the black folder with the red star which stood for Top Secret. ‘And for God’s sake look enthusiastic when you give it him. And tell him I’ll wait here and read a good code-book while he’s considering it. He may want some more details, and anyway I want to see you two don’t pester him with anything else until he’s finished.’
‘All right, sir.’ The Chief of Staff pressed a switch and leant towards the intercom on his desk.
‘Yes?’ asked a quiet, flat voice.
‘Head of S has an urgent docket for you, sir.’
There was a pause.
‘Bring it in,’ said a voice.
The Chief of Staff released the and stood up.
‘Thanks, Bill. I’ll be next door,’ said Head of S.
The Chief of Staff crossed his office and went through the double doors leading into M’s room. In a moment he came out and over the entrance a small blue light burned the warning that M was not to be disturbed.
Later, a triumphant Head of S said to his Number Two: ‘We nearly cooked ourselves with that last paragraph. He said it was subversion and blackmail. He got pretty sharp about it. Anyway, he approves. Says the idea’s crazy, but worth trying if the Treasury will play and he thinks they will. He’s going to tell them it’s a better gamble than the money we’re putting into deserting Russian colonels who turn double after a few months’ “asylum” here. And he’s longing to get at Le Chiffre, and anyway he’s got the right man and wants to try him out on the job.’
‘Who is it?’ asked Number Two.
‘One of the Double O’s—I guess 007. He’s tough and M thinks there may be trouble with those gunmen of Le Chiffre’s. He must be pretty good with the cards or he wouldn’t have sat in the Casino in Monte Carlo for two months before the war watching that Roumanian team work their stuff with the invisible ink and the dark glasses. He and the Deuxième bowled them out in the end and 007 turned in a million francs he had won at shemmy. Good money in those days.’
James Bond’s interview with M had been short.
‘What about it, Bond?’ asked M when Bond came back into his room after reading Head of S’s memorandum and after gazing for ten minutes out of the waiting-room window at the distant trees in the park.
Bond looked across the desk into the shrewd, clear eyes.
‘It’s very kind of you, sir, I’d like to do it. But I can’t promise to win. The odds at baccarat are the best after trente-et-quarante—evens except for the tinycagnotte—but I might get a bad run against me and get cleaned out. Play’s going to be pretty high—opening’ll go up to half a million, I should think.’
Bond was stopped by the cold eyes. M knew all this already, knew the odds at baccarat as well as Bond. That was his job—knowing the odds at everything, and knowing men, his own and the opposition’s. Bond wished he had kept quiet about his misgivings.
‘He can have a bad run too,’ said M. ‘You’ll have plenty of capital. Up to twenty-five million, the same as him. We’ll start you on ten and send you another ten when you’ve had a look round. You can make the extra five yourself.’ He smiled. ‘Go over a few days before the big game starts and get your hand in. Have a talk to Q about rooms and trains, and any equipment you want. The Paymaster will fix the funds. I’m going to ask the Deuxième to stand by. It’s their territory and as it is we shall be lucky if they don’t kick up rough. I’ll try and persuade them to send Mathis. You seemed to get on well with him in Monte Carlo on that other Casino job. And I’m going to tell Washington because of the NATO angle. CIA have got one or two good men at Fontainebleau with the joint intelligence chaps there. Anything else?’
Bond shook his head. ‘I’d certainly like to have Mathis, sir.’
‘Well, we’ll see. Try and bring it off. We’re going to look pretty foolish if you don’t. And watch out. This sounds an amusing job, but I don’t think it’s going to be. Le Chiffre is a good man. Well, best of luck.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Bond and went to the door.
‘Just a minute.’
Bond turned.
‘I think I’ll keep you covered, Bond. Two heads are better than one and you’ll need someone to run your communications. I’ll think it over. They’ll get in touch with you at Royale. You needn’t worry. It’ll be someone good.’
Bond would have preferred to work alone, but one didn’t argue with M. He left the room hoping that the man they sent would be loyal to him and neither stupid, nor, worse still, ambitious.