johngardner.rollofhonor-第22部分

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　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…covered　table　at　the　side。　　There　were　soups；　bread；　cheese　and　several　salad　dishes。
　All　very　simple；　with　only　mineral　water　to　drink。
　The　room；　however；　was　crowded　and　Bond　recognised　most　of　the　faces　from　Erewhon。　　Only　Tigerbalm　and　Happy　appeared　out　of　their　depth；　heavy　and　sly　among　the　sunburned；　soldierly　young　men。
　〃James；　great　to　see　you。〃　Simon　stood　at　his　elbow。
　〃Wondered　where　you'd　got　to。〃　Bond　studied　the　face　carefully。
　The　openness；　so　noticeable　at　Erewhon；　had　bee　artificial。　Simon's　pretence　told　Bond　far　more　about　the　situation　than　all　the　double…talk　in　the　world。　　Whatever　the　plot　set　in　motion　by　SPECTRE　through　these　people；　it　was　already　running。　　D　minus　two；　three；　four　or　five；　he　reckoned。
　Then　he　drastically　reduced　the　odds　as　he　spotted　Tamil　Rahani；　seated　on　one　side　of　St。　John…Finnes；　with　General　Zwingli　on　the　other。
　The　three　men　sat　apart　from　everyone　else　at　a　smaller　table；　and　were　being　served　with　food　by　a　pair　of　younger　soldiers。　　Like　the　others；　they　were　dressed　in　uniform　olive　slacks　and　drab　green　pullovers；　their　heads　bent　in　deep　conversation。
　For　a　second　Bond's　mind　drifted　off　to　M's　surveillance　team　in　the　village。　　Had　they　noted　the　ings　and　goings？　　Were　they　aware　of　the　dangerous　powers　gathered　together　in　this　place？
　〃I　said；　did　you　rest　well？〃　Simon　was　repeating。
　〃Rest？　　Oh；　rest；　yes。〃　Bond　managed　a　smile。　　〃I　had　no　alternative；　Simon。　　You　saw　to　that。〃
　〃e　on；　have　some　food。〃　He　began　piling　salads　and　cheese　on　to　a　plate　until　Bond　had　to　stop　him　with　a　gesture　of　his　hand。
　They　sat　together　at　the　end　of　one　of　the　longer　tables；　Simon　seeing　to　it　that　Bond　had　his　back　to　the　three　leaders。
　〃Security；　said　Simon　with　a　grin；　in　answer　to　Bond's　last　remark。　〃You　know　all　about　security；　James。　　Perchance　to　dream；　and　a　ride　on　the　magic　carpet。　　You　go　to　sleep　in　a　hot　dusty　climate；　and　wake　up　in　a　quiet　English　village。　　Would　that　all　travel　were　so　easy。〃
　〃I　prefer　to　know　where　I've　been；　and　where　I'm　going。　　I　like　to　be　aware。〃
　〃Sure。〃　He　took　a　mouthful　of　bread　and　cheese；　chewing　on　it；　sucking　the　juices　back　into　his　throat。
　Simon；　Bond　thought；　was　every　inch　a　trained　soldier。
　His　face　was　the　face　of　millions　of　men　who　marched　from　the　Battle　of　Kadesh　to　the　urban　horrors　of　the　present　day。
　〃Hallo；　the　Professor's　ing　your　way；James。　　Looks　as　if　he's　got　orders　for　you。
　St。　John…Finnes　leant　over　them。　　〃James；'　his　voice　had　a　quiet；　confiding　tone；　as　though　trying　to　calm　a　wayward　child；　〃can　you　spare　an　hour　or　two？〃　Bond　just　checked　himself　from　making　a　famous　remark；　nodded　and　rose；　winking　at　Simon　as　he　followed　the　Master　of　Endor；　as　he　now　thought　of　him；　from　the　room。　　He　could　feel　the　eyes　of　Rahani　and　Zwingli　on　his　back　as　they　left。
　There　was　a　young　man　guarding　the　stairs　down　to　the　laboratory。
　He　did　not　even　signify　that　he　had　seen　them；　almost　ostentatiously　looking　the　other　way。
　〃I　thought　I'd　give　you　a　chance　to　lose　the　American　Revolution　to　me；'　Jay　Autem　said　as　they　began　the　descent。　　〃It's　an　easy　enough　simulation　at　this　level；　so　we　can；　perhaps；　talk　about　your　plans　as　we　fight。　　Yes？〃
　〃Whatever　you　say。〃　Bond　appeared　nonmittal；　but　ran　his　plan　for　getting　the　EPOC　frequency　through　his　mind。
　Neither　Cindy　nor　Peter　was　in　the　main　laboratory；　and　there　had　been　a　radical　rearrangement。　　The　largest　area　was　now　filled　with　collapsible　wooden　chairs；　arranged　in　rows　like　a　school　assembly　hall。　　At　the　far　end；　facing　the　chairs；　were　a　large　television　projection　screen　and　Jay　Autem　Holy's　version　of　the　Terror　Twelve　on　a　movable　table。
　Bond　noticed　two　modern　typing　chairs　and　the　big；　chunky　joystick　controllers　near　by。　　A　training　session　had　obviously　been　going　on　earlier　that　day。　　The　Balloon　Game？　　Almost　certainly。
　They　passed　through　into　the　long　room　with　its　map　of　the　Eastern　seaboard　of　eighteenth…century　America；　Boston　with　Bunker's　Hill　and　Breed'