"So we've got them boxed in?" he asked.
There was a slight shuffling of feet and the odd cough.
"Unhappily, our people lost them." Thickness did not even look distressed. "They were picked up again, in London." The Security Service officer seemed to imagine they were all involved in some game.
Wimsey cleared his throat. "My officers, together with members of the Security Service, moved in, but I fear the whole bunch got away again."
"Whereabouts in London?"
"A flat behind Harrods. It's owned by Tarn; nothing but the best for him."
"And have you ID'd the black girl yet?"
"What black girl?" Judy Jameson from Security asked sharply.
He made them rerun the tape and pointed out the girl following Goodwin and Connie Spicer.
"We didn't even make her. Who do you think she is?" from Thickness, who seemed to have lost his casual attitude toward the situation.
"The one called Beth who was at Hall's Manor."
"Ah. Better put her on the list, then."
"Talking of Hall's Manor, not everything's lost…" The Minister tried to sound cheerful. "We have one other piece of interesting information. As you know, Bond, we were running a check on the Manor."
Bond nodded. His gut reaction to all this was not good. Something was badly wrong.
The Minister continued. "It appears that the last remaining member of the Hall family finally relented. The whole estate – a thousand acres and the house – was sold off in January: bought by a firm that calls itself Bulwark Real Estate."
"Don't tell me." Bond leaned back in his chair. "Bulwark is a subsidiary of Tarn International."
"Got it in one." The Minister sounded very pleased.
"So you're all banking on Tarn going up to that ruin?"
"I think it's a natural assumption."
"You do, sir? The place is falling down. It's also right out in the open. You had no idea that Tarn owned a flat in Knightsbridge, so, for all we know, he could have a dozen bolt holes here in London."
"I think not." Jane Smith sounded smug. "One of Commissioner Wimsey's units came back to us – a little late, I admit – with the information that a car traced to Tarn had been spotted on the M11."
"What exactly do you mean by 'a little late'?"
"It was a borderline speeding case. They took the reg, then recognized it when my people sent out the details," Wimsey blustered. "Called in straightaway."
"So let me rephrase my former question. You all know Tarn is going up to that ruin?"
"Indeed." The Minister spoke in the kind of voice used by schoolmasters who will brook no argument. The Pontius Pilate voice, as Bond called it – "What I have written, I have written."
"Well, I presume you have people surrounding Hall's Manor at the moment?"
"No. We have one man. Security brought him in from the SAS. He's very good, and they got him in and hidden by late last night. If Tarn shows up there, we'll know within seconds."
The Minister smiled benevolently, as though he had already trapped Max Tarn single-handed.
"Why would a man like Tarn risk coming back into the country with half his entourage, sir?" Bond asked quietly, knowing there could be no clear answer. "He came in clean, no attempt at hiding his identity. Now, I believe that he's got something going which he reckons will be a boon to society, and he'll risk anything to see it through. I haven't a clue as to what it is. But I do know that politically he's slightly to the right of Adolf Hitler and Genghis Khan. People like that often truly think they're invincible. Only a fool or a zealot would walk into the country so brazenly. The question is, why did he come back?"
"Must be something important." The Minister coughed, then frowned when he realized that he had made an obvious statement.
"And you believe he's at Hall's Manor?"
"What else can I believe? The man can't run far."
"Can't he? I think he can probably run us all off our feet. To come into Heathrow as he did means that he knows the score: knows how we operate with suspects. He came in to lead us on some merry dance, sir. I'd put money on it."
"Nobody's asking you to put money on it."
"No, but I would. He's here either to get something or deal with unfinished business, and he wants us to know about it. You think you lost him by chance? No, sir. This man's obsessive. He's been arming renegade armies, selling death to terrorists, providing arms and means to countries and organizations who will use the weapons – and not in any good cause, either. He's a world-class political loose cannon, sir. He's also a man who rarely takes chances. I repeat, he wanted you to know he was here, so he'll also probably let you know when he's left."
"So you don't think he'll be heading for Hall's Manor?" It was a rhetorical question.
"He could well be going straight there, sir. But I don't think it wise to have only one man waiting for him…"
"That was a conscious decision, Captain Bond. One that wasn't made lightly. We agreed that one trained member of the SAS would be able to give us radio information very quickly and without being detected."
"And you've got a whole troop of SAS people sitting a few miles away so that they can go in and get him?"
"We have armed police and security officers on standby. They can be there in a matter of thirty minutes."
"If that's where he's heading."
"Every policeman in the country, every security officer, every airport and seaport is on the alert for him. He's in, and it's up to us to be sure that he doesn't get out."
"Again, sir, why here? Why take this risk?"
The Minister was about to speak when the telephone purred on the table. He answered and, sounding very irritated, told Bond that it was Flicka wishing to speak with him. "And I trust that it's business, Bond. Something concerning this case."
"I've no doubt that it's business." He took the instrument and spoke into it quietly. Everyone in the room realized mere was something wrong by the way his back stiffened, and his eyes traversed every face in the room. "Wait there. I'll be back soon, and thank you."
He replaced the handset and looked straight at the Minister as he repeated the address just passed on to him by Flicka. It was a flat situated in an area just behind Harrods in Knightsbridge. "Is that where you thought you had him cornered, with his people?"
"Yes. How do you know? Nobody else but The Committee and a select number of trustworthy police and security officers have that address."
"Because there was a telephone message on my private phone when I got back to my flat, sir. The caller ID gave the number of the place behind Harrods. Fräulein von Grüsse has been checking it out for me."
"A telephone call?"
"That's what I just said, sir. I think Tarn's intent on leaving a message at Hall's Manor for us. A very unpleasant message."
"Bond, you're not talking sense."
"I'm talking a lot of sense, sir, and I want The Committee's permission for me to go up to Hall's Manor with Fräulein von Grüsse immediately."
"I need to know why. Have to get in touch with our man on the ground there."
Quietly and quickly. Bond explained some of the facts of life – particularly those pertaining to Lady Tarn, and the control Sir Max had over Seville and San Juan in Puerto Rico. "I gather that, eventually, he's going to provide some spectacular event in Puerto Rico, and that's going to be sooner rather than later." He left out the fact that Max Tarn – and presumably many others – regarded himself as the Nazi Messiah. "My fear is that your SAS man could be in serious trouble."
"Why just you and Fräulein von Grüsse? Why not send police and SAS in now?"
"You want a pitched battle in which we might be seen to have acted a little prematurely? I need your authority to get up to Hall's Manor, and I need it now."
"I don't think I can…"
"You can, sir. If you don't then you get my resignation from the Two Zeros here and now. I'm privy to quite a lot of information about Tarn. I don't think you can really get him without my help. I'll wait outside until you've made up your minds." He rose and stalked out of the room.