"Where are we actually going with this?" asked the Minister.
"Bear with me, Minister."
Tanner came back into the room carrying the tape recorder they had used on the previous occasion.
"You see, ladies and gentlemen." Bond indicated that the machine should be put on the table. "Max Tarn could not have pulled off his various little dodges unless he had a very special kind of help. Help from inside this room."
"Oh." Wimsey sighed. "Who the hell do you think…?"
"I don't think, Claude. I know. I know because our mole – as they say in the spy novels – left his voice behind in Germany."
"What're you talking about, Bond? How much more of this -"
Tanner, who had inserted the tape, pressed the Play button.
"This is most urgent," said the Minister's voice on the tape. "An agent from the British Intelligence Service is on his way to Wasserburg. His mission is to run a check on Max and on the current Tarnenwerder situation…"
There was an audible gasp, even from the Director General of the Security Service, and the Minister tried to make for the door.
"No good, sir." A pistol had appeared, like some smart conjuring trick, in Tanner's hand. "There are people waiting for you there."
"This is… That's a fake… Someone's…" the Minister blustered, stood, sat down, and then stood again. His manner now was of defeat.
Tanner suggested that he surrender to the Security Service people outside, and as the door opened. Bond caught a glimpse of the two interrogators nicknamed Burke and Hare, loitering in the background.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Tanner addressed the DG of MI5. "I'm afraid I've probably overstepped my authority in bringing in a pair of your people."
"Not at all." She waved the apology away. "Well, I suppose I'm the senior member of The Committee for the present, so I'd better take the chair."
"Sorry again, ma'am. After James – er, Captain Bond – telephoned me from Munich almost in the middle of the night, I spoke at length with the Prime Minister. He's appointed a new chairman of MicroGlobe One. A friend of yours, I think. Lord Harvey of Danehill. He's a member of the Joint Intelligence Committee."
"Yes. A very fine man." The DG looked a shade put out.
"He'll take the chair very shortly. He didn't want to come in until this whole business had been dealt with. It is a touchy matter, so the Prime Minister's office has asked that nobody talks about it to anyone outside this room." He turned to Bond. "There wasn't much doubt, even without my hearing the tape. I checked as you asked. He's known Tarn for a long time. Same school. Same house at school also. They've been cronies for years."
"I think," the DG interrupted them, "this would be a good opportunity to take some coffee. We've all been up for quite a long time."
"Want to take a look-see before you face The Committee again?" Tanner asked. "He went to pieces as soon as they took him out."
Bond nodded, reaching for Flicka's hand, and Tanner led them to a small room within shouting distance of the reading room.
He knew this pair of interrogators rarely failed to extract whatever information was held by the target – the "subject," as they called all of their unhappy clients.
The Minister was in his shirtsleeves and seemed to have aged by at least ten years in just over ten minutes.
"Hallo, Minister," Bond greeted him brightly. "Treating you well, then?"
The Minister did not reply, so he looked at the interrogators, raising an eyebrow.
"Coughing like a man smoking seventy a day," Burke smiled.
"Singing arias like Pavarotti." Hare nodded.
"He's admitted complicity?"
"Friend of Max Tarn's for years, he says. He also says that he didn't realize the extent to which the man went. He just helped oil the wheels from time to time, but we know he did more than that."
"May I ask him a couple of things?"
"Be our guest." Hare turned back to the Minister. "You'll have no objection to this gentleman's questions?"
"Depends what he asks." The Minister had that look, deep in his eyes, that said he knew his career had ended and his only chance was to be completely candid.
"I can promise you," Bond began, "that if you come clean, I'll personally do my best to see that we keep all this out of the comic papers. Also, I don't expect anyone will want to shout about your activities from the rooftops. Be really cooperative and you'll not even see the inside of a courtroom."
"I've heard all that before." The Minister did not even look at him.
"I just want information about Tarn's associates. Did you know Lady Tarn's bodyguards? A pair of grotesques called Cuthbert and Archibald?"
"You mean the pair of cross-dressers? Cathy and Anna?"
"Oh, you did know them."
"Saw them around. His fixer, Maurice Goodwin, told me who they were."
"Well, who did they really work for – Lady Trish or Sir Max?"
"Max, of course. Everybody worked for Max in the long run. All you had to do was send someone really straight down to Sir Max and he'd come back bent as a corkscrew."
"Anything special about Duxford?"
"I think the original plan was for them to fly out of Duxford airfield, though that would have been a bit tricky."
"They managed to do it after Lady Trish's murder." Tanner was standing just behind Flicka. "On that dark night, a corporate jet landed at Duxford just after midnight. Claimed he had a fuel problem. They let him fill up and the pilot made a telephone call. About an hour later, as I understand it, a pair of Land-Rovers turned up and the occupants climbed out and boarded the aircraft. The jet took off, but the radio transmissions were, to say the least, on the sparse side. The general feeling is that money changed hands, but I doubt they'll prove anything."
"That was exactly how they were going to do it the first time." The Minister seemed to have gained a small amount of confidence since Bond's promises. "I think they had a genuine problem with the aircraft that time because, at the last minute, I was told to give them an extra twenty minutes if possible."
"And you were well recompensed for all this, Minister?"
"I took money, yes. I've already told these people that I took money." He made the word "people" sound like an obscenity.
"Max only used money?" Flicka asked.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning what I said. Did Max only use money to bribe people?"
The Minister gave a bitter laugh. "Max used anything available. Money always worked because he paid out beyond people's wildest dreams, but the man has no conscience. Would snuff out his mother if it would do any good, and he'd sleep soundly at night. He was equally at home with blackmail and providing other little favors – women, even boys."
"Anyone we know?"
"He pimped Cathy and Anna for friends. I know that for a fact. When you finally get to him, Bond, wish him well from me just before he dies. You'll certainly not take him alive, I'd put money on that. Without doubt, Max Tarn is the most evil man I have ever known. He's moved through the world like a plague, sowing germs of death disguised as arms and military equipment to anyone willing to pay. He sees nothing wrong in that. In fact he believes that, in the end, the world will accept him because he reckons to have some great plan that will do immeasurable good."
"Didn't I mention that to The Committee?" Bond thought he had told them. "You've no idea what this great boon to mankind actually is?"
"None. Except a code word. SeaFire, he called it. I've heard him laugh and say that when he reveals SeaFire, he will have no enemies in the world."
"Any idea where he's headed next?"