Bond sensed some hostility from the likes of Thickness, Ms. Smith, and Ms. Jameson, not to mention Commissioner Wimsey, but the other members seemed pleased enough to see him again. The Minister appeared neutral, though as ever he remained stiff and a shade cold.
Both Bond and Flicka made statements, which resulted in a general clamoring regarding the whereabouts of Tarn and his cohorts. There was little doubt that this final act of brutality had put fire under the bulk of the Committee members, and it was Wimsey who provided the possible clues.
Once more, right under everyone's noses, it seemed that the entire gang had flown out of Stanstead.
"I was under the impression that all ports and airports were under a red alert for the man." The Minister was more than chilly toward Wimsey, who countered that this time they had almost certainly left, in disguise, under new – probably forged – passports. Two of the men, presumably Tarn and Goodwin, had boarded a flight bound for Berlin, while the two women and several other men had almost certainly left as members of a tour group heading for Corfu. This last had only just emerged, and the tour company – WellRun Tours Ltd. – had been questioned.
"This particular company," Wimsey reported with a trace of sheepishness, "has admitted they were five places short of the full complement on their reasonably priced nine-day trip around the Greek islands. Late yesterday afternoon, they apparently jumped with joy when they received an inquiry about availability on any tour leaving Stanstead last night. It was a night flight, and the man who telephoned them had given a valid credit-card number for all five free places. They've been in touch with their guide in Corfu. Only one of the last-minute bookings reported to her at Corfu airport. A man – undoubtedly Spicer – told her they had been forced to return home immediately because of a family crisis. As yet we have not been able to check out what other flights they boarded, though two are thought to have gone on to Athens." He paused as if for applause. "My private theory is that they're heading to a prearranged meeting place in Europe."
Bond interrupted. As yet he had not mentioned the charred paper discovered at Hall's Manor. "I can tell you exactly where they are, for the next four nights at any rate."
This remark got everyone's attention very quickly, so he took them through the entire story.
"Then we get the German authorities to pick up the lot of them in Munich," the Minister snapped.
"I doubt if that would work, Minister," Bond told him quietly.
"Why in heaven not?"
"Well, Minister, to be fully truthful you'd probably get them arrested, though Germany isn't exactly cooperating with us at all levels at the moment. Arrested, they're of no further use to us. Arrest Tarn and those close to him and you charge him with murder, the others with being accomplices -"
"Then we can slap the other serious charges on them when your department's fully sorted out the papers and provided hard evidence. Nothing more simple."
"Maybe, Minister, but there're still loose ends to be tied up. I would like The Committee to grant me one more request."
"We've already given you one hell of a lot of leeway, Bond," Wimsey began.
"With respect, Commissioner, I think that if you grant my new request, it'll save a lot of time in the long run."
"Get on with it, then, Captain Bond. What're you suggesting? That we allow you to go charging to Munich and dash in with guns blazing?"
Bond paused, looking around the long table, taking in the reactions of every member of The Committee, capturing each person's eyes briefly with his own almost accusatory stare. "Please correct me if I'm wrong," he began, his eyes still roving around the various members and noting that, while M and the Director General of the Security Service were absent, it was the latter organization that was represented by three people. His own old service had only Bill Tanner as its delegate, and he was wearing the Secretary's hat as well as being M's deputy.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," he repeated. "My understanding of the rules and regulations of MicroGlobe One, the watchdog committee over my department, state that the Minister and one other member can recommend a course of action being taken over short-range activities. If the Minister rubber-stamps some action, he is not required to give an entire quorum of The Committee the details of that action.
"But must do so after four days of the recommendation," the Minister barked.
"After four days, yes," Bond agreed. "Therefore, I would like a meeting, in camera, with the Minister and the representative from the Intelligence Service – now." He knew that he was well within his rights, and as he left the room with Tanner and the Minister, he tried to avoid the pleading eyes of Flicka von Grüsse, who had more than a glimmer of an idea regarding what he was going to ask.
They went straight to the Minister's office, a bare, uncluttered room, one floor above The Committee's reading room.
"Well, what is it you want to request in such secrecy, Captain Bond?" The Minister showed signs of frustration and not a little irritation before they were seated.
"Simple, sir. I want four days' leave, with nobody asking awkward questions as to where I am or what I'm doing."
"And where will you be?"
"I'll be in Germany. Bavaria. Looking over the old Tarn estate, Tarnenwerder, and probably talking with Maximilian Tarn's lawyers in Wasserburg."
"You know The Committee wouldn't sanction that, Bond. You know they wouldn't even discuss it. So why should I recommend it to them?"
"Because somebody close to this Committee – probably a member – has a link to Tarn that goes back a very long way."
"That's outrageous!" The Minister's complexion went from shock white to purple anger. "Can you support these unconscionable accusations?"
"I think I can. Tell me, what time did Sir Max and his crew arrive at Heathrow the day they came back in?"
"On the Dublin flight that gets in at around five."
"And when were you alerted?"
The Minister's jaw dropped. "Not until seven. After we lost them the first time. Or I should say after the police and Security Service lost them."
"Who else knew about the place behind Harrods?"
"Nobody. The Committee and a few officers in the field – and then only after the Security Service discovered that he owned the place."
"Yet Tarn and his group were long gone before anyone moved in to take them. I must say that Max Tarn is either a psychic or he's very well informed."
"This seems ludicrous." The Minister sounded like a man who did not really believe what he was hearing.
"I don't see how he can be operating without help from the inside. I mean the blatant arrival at Heathrow and the way he was lost. Doesn't happen like that, Minister, and you know it. There are other things as well. The only way it makes sense is if somebody is feeding them information."
"Can you point a finger?"
"Not really. If I were asked to bet on it I'd say one of the Security Service people – Thickness, Smith, or Jameson. They'd be our most obvious targets."
"So you really believe that someone on The Committee has been taking backhanders from Tarn? Passing him information?"
"I think it's a matter of common sense. From the beginning Tarn's been tipped off. Just tell me whose idea it was for Fräulein von Grüsse and I to lay some news on him in Cambridge? You must know as well as I do that there was absolutely no way that Tarn could've planned that phony car accident without previous knowledge. He's been playing us for fools right down the line. He even knew exactly when I was to pick up Dolmech. He had a getaway planned for last night. He's not psychic. It has to be someone in that reading room. Tarn's too well informed. Think about it, sir."
"Oh, my God." The Minister had gone white again. "You may well be right. I really have no other option but to recommend that you take a look around Germany. They won't learn anything from me. Go to it, Bond, and good luck."