johngardner.rollofhonor-第27章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃They're　so　very　rarely　used。　　Yes；　as　I　remember　it；　you've　got　the　list　right　but　for　one　other　person。
　〃Who？〃
　〃The　officer　who　controls　the　ciphers　and　frequency　at　the　outset。　Normally　a　munications　security　officer　with　the　National　Security　Agency。
　〃Who　usually；　Mr。　Bond；　has　forgotten　the　details　within　five　minutes。　What　we　shall　need　from　you　is　the　precise　EPOC　frequency　on　a　particular　day；　which　means　we　need　it　twenty…four　hours　in　advance。
　All　other　details　are　taken　care　of。〃
　〃And　how　do　you　expect　me　to　give　you　the　EPOC　frequency？〃　Jay　Autem　Holy　gave　a　throaty　laugh。　〃You　have　done　service　as　Duty　Security　Officer　at　the　Foreign　Office。
　You　know　the　system　and　the　routine。　　Someone　with　your　background　and　your　expertise　should　have　no　difficulty　in　obtaining　what　we　require。　Just　put　your　mind　to　it。　　This　is　why　you　were　the　obvious　candidate；　Bond。　　Providing　you're　as　straight　as　we　believe　you　to　be。
　There　is　an　old　proverb：　when　you　want　something　from　the　lions；　send　a　lion；　not　a　man。
　〃I've　never　heard　that　before。〃
　〃No？　　You　are　the　lion　going　to　the　lions。　　You　are　trusted；　but　if　you　should　fail　us　。　　。　　。　　Well；　we　are　not　forgiving　people；　I'm　afraid。　Incidentally；　I'm　not　surprised　you　didn't　recognise　the　proverb。　　I　just　invented　it。〃　Jay　Autem　Holy　threw　back　his　head　in　a　guffaw　of　laughter。　　James　Bond　did　not　think　it　was　at　all　funny。
　〃You'll　get　the　frequency　for　us；　won't　you；　Bond？〃　The　query　came　out　through　a　series　of　deep　breaths；　as　he　gained　control　of　himself。
　〃Think　of　it　as　your　revenge。　　I　promise　you　it　will　be　used　for　good；　and　not　to　create　havoc　and　disaster。
　He　had　no　option。　　〃Yes；　I'll　do　it。　　It's　only　a　few　numbers　you　want；　after　all。〃
　〃That's　right。　　You're　in　the　numbers　racket　now。　　A　few　simple　digits；　Mr。　Bond。〃　He　paused；　the　vivid　green　eyes　boring　into　Bond's　skull。　〃Did　you　know　the　Soviets　use　almost　an　identical　method　when　the　General　Secretary　and　Chairman　of　the　Central　mittee　is　abroad？
　They　call　it　the　Panic　frequency　…　but　in　Russian　of　course。
　〃You　need　access　to　this　Panic　frequency　as　well？〃　Bond　asked；　his　nerves　on　edge。
　〃Oh；　we　already　have　it。　　You're　not　the　only　person　in　the　numbers　racket；　Mr。　Bond。　　Our　principals　in　this　operation　have　little　money　to　spare　but　they　certainly　have　contacts。　　Light　on　cash　but　heavy　on　information。
　They　do　not　trust　your　judgment　as　we　do　…　or　have　I　already　told　you　that？〃
　〃Ah；　your　principals；　yes。〃　Bond　turned　down　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　〃Even　though　my　part　in　all　this　is　vital　…　essential　…　I　am　not　allowed　to　know　。　　。　　。
　〃The　name　of　our　principals？　　I　should　have　thought　a　man　like　you　would　have　guessed　already。　　A　once　powerful　and　very　rich　organisation；　which　has　fallen　on　bad　times　…　mainly　because　they　lost　their　last　two　leaders　in　tragic　circumstances。　　Our　principals　are　a　group　who　call　themselves　SPECTRE。　　The　Special　Executive　for　Counterintelligence；　Terrorism；　Revenge　and　Extortion。　　I　rather　like　the　revenge　bit；　don't　you？〃
　
　BUNKER'S　HILL
　
　TIGERBALM　AND　HAPPY；　the　strong…arm　men　in　residence；　cheerfully　took　Bond　back　to　his　room　and　left　him；　keeping　up　their　good　humoured　banter　the　whole　time。
　Yet　something　was　different；　Bond　knew。　　In　his　present　bemused　state；　he　could　not　work　out　what　it　was。
　Stretching　out　on　the　bed；　he　looked　up　at　the　ceiling　and　put　his　mind　to　the　current　problem。　　It　all　seemed　so　unreal；　particularly　in　this　pleasant　room　with　its　white　gloss　paint　and　flowered　wallpaper。
　Yet　here　he　was；　with　the　knowledge　that　downstairs　a　scientist　had　already　run　simulations　for　criminal　activities　and　was　now　training　people　for　some　other；　more　dangerous　mission　using　microputer　games　techniques　and　his　own　particular　skills。
　It　was　even　more　difficult　to　believe；　as　Jay　Autem　Holy　had　suggested；　that；　packaged　to　SPECTRE'S　requirements；　the　plan　concerned　military　orders　transmitted　by　the　United　States　President。　　It　had　not　surprised　him　to　learn　that　SPECTRE；　as　principals　in　the　matter；　did　not　approve　of　Bond's　recruitment。　　After　all；　they　had　carried　on　a　death　feud　for　more　years　than　either　party　cared　to　remember。
　But　that　was　neither　here　nor　there　at　this　moment。
　Jay　Autem　Holy　had　disclosed　the　reason　for　Bond　being　on　the　payroll。　Now　it　was　up　to　him　to　be　convincing。
　M　had　been　clear　about　the　way　this　kind　of　situation　should　be　handled。　〃If　they　take　you　in　…　if　any　organisation　takes　you　in　then　you　will　have　to　split　yourself　in　two；'　he　had　counselled。
　First；　Bond　should　not　think　of　any　recruitment　as　either　serious　or　long…term；　second；　he　had　to　believe　it　was　serious。　　The　ultimate　paradox。
　〃If　they　want　you　for　a　specialist　job；　you　must　at　all　costs　treat　it　as　a　reality。　　Work　it　out；　as　they　would　expect　of　you；　like　a　professional。〃　So　now；　lying　on　the　bed；　with　part　of　his　mind　treating　the　situation　with　grave　suspicion；　James　Bond　began　to　tackle　the　problem　of　how　to　get　hold　of　the　EPOC　frequency　for　these　people。
　There　was　one　small　ray　of　hope。　　To　secure　that　set　of　numbers　he　would　have　to　get　in　touch　with　the　outside　world。　　It　would　mean　munication　with　the　Service　and　it　was　probable　that　contact　would　eventually　be　physical　…　which　meant　escape。　　What　he　now　had　to　do　was　plot　a　plausible　method　of　making　the　right　contact　to　get　hold　of　the　special　frequency。　　At　the　same　time；　he　must　devise　a　way　to　do　this　with　full　knowledge　and　cooperation　from　his　own　Service。
　It　took　half　an　hour　for　him　to　concoct　two　possible　methods；　though　both　presupposed　he　would　be　allowed　to　work　alone。　　The　first　plan　needed　Cindy　Chalmer's　undercover　assistance；　and　a　method　of　getting　to　his　Bentley。　　If　this　were　not　possible；　then　the　second　plan　would　have　to　suffice；　though　it　contained　a　number　of　imponderables；　some　of　which　could　e　unbuttoned　with　worrying　ease。
　He　was　still　working　out　this　reserve　plan　when　he　realised　what　was　different。　　Once　Tigerbalm　and　Happy　left；　there　had　been　no　click　of　key　in　lock。
　Sliding　quietly　off　the　bed；　he　went　over　to　the　door　and　tried　the　handle。　　It　opened　without　resistance。　　Was　it　an　error　or　a　message　from　the　Master　of　Endor　telling　him　he　was　free　to　go　wherever　he　liked？　　If　the　latter；　then　Bond　would　have　put　money　on　it　being　a　very　limited　rein。　　Why　not　put　it　to　the　test？　　There　were　plenty　of　reasons　for　trying。　　He　had　no　idea　what　had　been　going　on　in　the　world　lately。
　The　corridor　took　him　out　to　a　landing；　the　landing　to　the　main　staircase；　which　brought　him　into　the　hall。
　There；　all　possibility　of　real　freedom　ended。　　Seated　near　the　door；　dressed　in　jeans　and　a　rollneck；　was　a　young　man　he　recognised　from　Erewhon。　　Another　graduate　from　that　alma　mater　lounged　near　the　door　to　the　laboratory　stairs。
　Giving　each　guard　a　friendly　nod　of　recognition；　which　was　returned　with　only　a　hint　of　suspicion　in　their　eyes；　he　strolled　through　to　the　main　drawing　room　where　he　had　last　sat　with　Freddie；　Peter；　Cindy　and　their　hosts　before　dinner　on　the　night　which　now　seemed　a　hundred　years　ago。
　The　room　was　empty。　　He　looked　around；　in　the　hope　of　spotting　some　newspapers。　　None　…　not　even　the　television　guides。　　There　was　a　television　set；　however；　and　he　strode　quickly　to　it。　　The　set　was　dead。　Plugged　in；　switched　on　at　the　mains；　but　dead　as　a　stone。　　The　same　applied　to　the　radio　tuner　on　the　stereo　system。
　Nothing　was　ing　into　Endor　through　normal　channels。　　Bond　was　sure　that　any　other　television　or　radio　would　also　be　inoperable；　and　that　meant　he　and　possibly　others；　had　to　be　separated　from　world　events。
　Cut　off。　　In　isolation。
　He　stayed　downstairs　for　five　minutes　or　so　then　returned　to　his　room。
　About　an　hour　later　Tigerbalm　came　to　tell　him　they　were　going　to　have　a　meal　shortly。　　〃The　chief　says　you　can　join　us。〃　He　showed　no　feelings　towards　Bond；　either　friendly　or　hostile。　　Somewhere　along　the　road　Tigerbalm's　bouncy　bonhomie　had　been　removed。
　The　dining　room　was　bare　of　its　good　furniture。　　In　place　of　the　Jacobean　table；　a　series　of　functional；　military　trestle　tables　had　been　set　up；　while　the　food　was　collected　from　a　cloth