“Who was the mastermind behind it all?”
“They’re still trying to find out. That’s the only glitch. The original boss is in prison. We don’t know who the interim chief was, but apparently he got away. None of the arrested members will talk. There was nothing more I could do for the FBI, so I came back. It’s their show now.”
“What happened with the woman from the clinic?”
Bond frowned. “She died.”
“Suicide?”
He nodded. “She didn’t give them a chance to interrogate her. Swallowed a tablet of concentrated potassium cyanide.”
M tapped the desk with her fingers. “Why would she do that? What did she know?”
“She was working for someone other than the Suppliers. She mentioned that her orders came from a ‘higher authority.’ I definitely got the impression that she had no loyalty to the Suppliers.”
“Was she connected to our Number Killer?”
“I believe so, yes. The Number Killer’s arsenal came from the Suppliers. I don’t have proof, but I’m sure of it.”
“And what about Alfred’s son?”
Bond shook his head. “The FBI tracked him after he left Austin. He took a flight to London and apparently spent a day here taking care of the arrangements for his father. Did you speak to him?”
“No. I tried to reach him but he was tied up with solicitors all day. The next thing I knew, he was out of the country.”
“That’s right. He flew to Athens. He had already arrived by the time we all learned where he was. It was too late for customs to stop him.”
“So he’s somewhere in Greece?”
“That’s what we presume. ReproCare was owned by BioLinks Limited, a large pharmaceutical firm in Athens. We’ll have to look into that.”
M got up and poured two glasses of bourbon. She handed one to Bond without asking if he wanted it.
“Now that he’s delivered his package of chemicals to whomever the Suppliers sold them to, don’t you think he’d come home?” she asked. “Surely he knows that the Suppliers are no more.”
“He’s either on the run, or he’s hiding somewhere.”
“Or he’s dead.”
“There is that possibility too.” Bond took a sip of the bourbon. “The men in that house in Austin did not treat him as an equal. My first thought was that he was being held captive. The Suppliers were after a file on Mr. Hutchinson’s computer. They didn’t find it. If we knew what the file contained, it would be a big help.”
“Do you remember that Alfred was going to show us something concerning the Cyprus case?”
“Yes. What was it?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. We’ve had a good look through his flat too. I wonder if Charles was connected to this information?”
“The FBI raided that mansion on the hill in Austin and it was completely empty. The occupants had made a hasty departure. Even the furniture was gone. Leiter found out who owns the house, though: a Greek fellow by the name of Konstantine Romanos.”
“I’ve heard of him,” M said. “He’s some kind of teacher/tycoon?”
She began to punch up his name on her computer.
“That’s right,” Bond said. “Independently wealthy, he’s a respected mathematician at Athens University. He’s also a writer and a philosopher. I don’t know a lot about him yet, I just looked him up on the computer myself.”
He tapped a file folder in his lap and opened it. “The man in this photo, though, is not the man I saw in the house.” Bond took out a black-and-white publicity shot of Konstantine Romanos. The man he had seen in the house was a bodybuilder with huge hands, dark hair, and a thick mustache. The man in the photo was in his fifties and was tall and thin. His curly hair was dark, but it had hints of gray. Strikingly handsome, he had the looks of a screen idol now in the autumn years of his career.
“There’s not a lot here. I’ve already put in a request to Station G and to the Greek Secret Service for more information on him. According to Records, Romanos is clean, but I found something interesting. He has one living family member, a second cousin, Vassilis, who was a champion bodybuilder in his hometown in Greece. There’s no photo of him, but the man in charge of the Romanos mansion the night I was there looked a bit like Romanos. It could have been his cousin.”
“Why would Romanos have a house in Texas?”
“One of Konstantine Romanos’s several accomplishments was serving as a guest professor for five years in the University of Texas philosophy department. This was around the same time that Alfred Hutchinson was also a guest professor at the college.”
It was a frightening coincidence. M said nothing, so Bond continued, “We know that Charles Hutchinson carried a supply of chemical weapons to Athens for the Suppliers. Where he’s gone from there is a mystery. We need to find him.”
She nodded. “I agree. You’re to go on to Athens. Find out what happened to Charles Hutchinson and see if you can meet this Romanos fellow. Observe him. I’ll make sure you get complete cooperation from the Greeks, and we’ll try to get more information on that pharmaceutical company.”
M stood up and slowly walked toward the window. It was raining again. “You know, Alfred might have been killed because he found out what his son was up to. He never spoke of Charles. The only time he did was to say that his son had been an ‘embarrassment’ to him.”
Bond didn’t want to say that he suspected Alfred Hutchinson of much more than simply not nurturing a positive father-son relationship. The coincidence of Hutchinson and Romanos being in the same Texas city for five years was too compelling. They had to have known each other. What if Hutchinson himself was involved with the Suppliers? He could have used the diplomatic bag as a means to deliver weapons to other countries.
“I’m concerned about the pattern in the attacks,” M said. “Our people are trying to determine what the significance of the Greek god statuettes might be. The numbers, I’m afraid, are just there to add up. There will be more, but when and where? You have to find out. The severity of the attacks is also escalating. That anthrax could have caused a terrible epidemic. Many people would have died. My own personal stake in this matter aside, this could turn into a predicament that might threaten national security.”
Bond waited for her to go on.
“The Cyprus situation is a tinderbox waiting to explode. Greece and Turkey are both members of NATO. If they were to go to war against each other, all of Europe would suffer. The government of Turkey has been unstable for some time now. The fundamentalist Muslims would welcome an opportunity to take control away from the seculars. If they did, it wouldn’t be long before they formed dangerous alliances with countries like Iran or Iraq. A war with Greece would put quite a strain on a country that already has twenty percent unemployed. The fundamentalists could take advantage of the situation.”
M handed the file folder back to Bond. “I’ll have Chief of Staff contact the Greek Secret Service and let them know you’re coming in the morning. One of their people will meet you at the airport. I want to know what happened to Charles Hutchinson. Follow his trail. If it happens to cross one made by Konstantine Romanos, you’ll know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve always had a knack for uncovering the mountain after first finding the molehill. I’m counting on you to do it again. That’s all, 007.”
Bond stood up to leave, then hesitated.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“No, I know.” She paused a moment, then said, “You want to say that you suspect Alfred had something to do with all of this. The thought has crossed my mind as well. I’m trying not to let my personal feelings cloud my reasoning, but I refuse to believe it until I see some strong evidence.”
“Of course,” Bond said.
She looked at him intensely. After a moment, her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry about the other night, James. People that work for you should never have
to see you in such an exposed condition. I feel so … humiliated.”
“Don’t give it another thought, ma’am,” Bond said. “We all go through traumas in our lives. Just take comfort in knowing you were among friends.”
She raised her eyes and said, “Thank you. I also want to thank you for how you’re handling all of this. Tanner almost called 004 that night, but I asked him to call you. I knew that you would … understand.”
Bond didn’t know what to say, so he nodded reassuringly and left the room.
He would always remember that moment in the months to come. From then on, the level of mutual respect they had for each other was significantly strengthened.
Bond looked into his office and found a message to call Felix Leiter. When he got through to him, Leiter said, “James! Glad you reached me!”
“What is it, Felix?”
“Listen, you know that metal briefcase you spotted in Bastrop?”
“Yes?”
“It had some kind of weird shit in it, my friend. It was opened in quarantined conditions, but everyone who was exposed to it is dead. I’m telling you this bug is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. It produces symptoms similar to ricin poisoning, but it’s a germ—it’s contagious! The stuff has been sealed off and sent to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.”
“Christ. What exactly was inside the case?”
“Sperm samples. There were tiny vials of liquid hidden in the sperm. One of them was broken. We think the bug was in the vial. And that’s not all.”
“What?”
“Apparently there’s a strange epidemic happening in L.A. and over in Tokyo too. Mysterious diseases, killing off people right and left.”
“I remember your FBI man mentioning it.”
“I’m just now learning what details there are, but this has been going on for days. Anyway, they’re in a panic there. They’ve sealed off buildings to keep the sick people in, and health officials are working like mad to figure out what’s going on. We’re just now hearing about it because the authorities in the respective cities wanted to keep it quiet at first. I’m wondering if the germ you found is identical to the bugs in L.A. and Japan.”
“My God, Felix, I think Charles Hutchinson may have delivered a lot of those cases recently. Not just Los Angeles or Tokyo!”
“That’s what I’m thinking too, James. And all of ReproCare’s records are destroyed. The FBI is suddenly very worried. We need to track down those cases and quarantine them. They’ve already begun to check every medical clinic in the cities you saw on the computer at ReproCare. Damn, New York and London. Do you realize how long that’s going to take?”
“I understand. I’ll alert M immediately and we can help out over here.”
“That’s my man. Thanks. Don’t panic yet. There’s no proof that the bug you found is the same one as in L.A. and Tokyo.”
“Fax me any other information as you get it, all right?”
They wished each other luck and said goodbye.
Bond hung up the phone and went back up to see M.
Little did he know that a sixty-two-year-old woman had already contracted the first London case of Williams’s disease after receiving a blood transfusion at a hospital in Twickenham.
Alfred Hutchinson had kept an office near Buckingham Palace in Castle Lane. James Bond got out of the taxi, stepped over a large puddle of dirty rainwater to the pavement, and entered the building. He gave his name to the security man and was told to come on up.
Manville Duncan was holding the door open and waiting for Bond when he stepped off the elevator.
“Mr. Bond, this is a surprise,” he said. “I just got back from the Middle East. I’m off to France tomorrow.”
“I’ll just take a minute of your time,” Bond said. They shook hands and Bond noted once again that Duncan’s handshake was clammy.
“Come in, come in.”
The office was elegantly decorated in a grand Edwardian style. Bond felt he had entered the library of a stately mansion.
“This is where Alfred worked,” Duncan said. “I’ve barely had time to move things in from my old office. I find that it’s easier just to stay where I was!” He led Bond to an outer office where Bond spotted a portrait of Manville Duncan’s wife on a desk. Papers and file folders were scattered about, indicating that the temporary ambassador was a bit disorganized.
“Sit down, please—oh, just move those books out of the way. Now, what can I do for you?” Duncan sat behind the desk and faced Bond.
“On the night of Sir Miles’s party, Mr. Hutchinson told us that he had some information about the Cyprus case. He was planning to turn it over to M and me the next day. Do you have any idea what that was?”
“M mentioned that to me. I’m afraid I haven’t a clue.”
“There was a file on his computer in Austin. Something important. He might have had a copy here. Any thoughts as to what it might have contained?”
Duncan thought a minute and shook his head. “No, and MI5 went though his hard drive here. I can’t imagine what it was.”
“What do you know about Charles Hutchinson?”
“I know he’s a bad lot. He’s done a few things which were never made public, thank God.”
“Oh?”
“Shortly after his father became Ambassador to the World, Charles was arrested in Germany for being drunk and disorderly. A few months later, he was almost brought up on rape charges in the Philippines. His father got the charges dismissed. I don’t know if it was true or not, but Charles got away with it.”
“How often did they see each other?”
“More frequently than Alfred let on. He took frequent trips to Texas, because he loved it there. I’m sure he saw his son when he was in Austin.”
“M says that Hutchinson was disappointed with Charles.”
“You wouldn’t know it. The boy often accompanied Alfred on diplomatic trips. Charles went along for free under a diplomatic umbrella. He got to see the world. He got to perpetuate his playboy image and get himself into trouble without really getting into trouble. Diplomatic immunity has its advantages.”
“Do you know anything about the clinic in Austin where Charles worked?”
“No. Alfred rarely spoke about what Charles was doing in Austin. I do know that he wasn’t happy that Charles had dropped out of university. He thought the boy wasn’t measuring up to his potential. But as far as his occupation or activities, I don’t think Alfred really cared. If you ask me, I think Alfred knew that Charles was up to something illegal.”
“How do you know?”
“I can’t really put my finger on it. It was the way he often spoke about his son. It was as if he were protecting him from something. That reminds me—I just remembered that he had an argument on the phone with Charles about a week before he died. I couldn’t make it out, but I did hear Alfred tell Charles that something was ‘too dangerous.’ When I walked into the office, he was just ringing off. His last words to his son were, ‘I have no other choice.’ ”
“What do you think that meant?”
“I’m afraid to speculate, but do you really want to know what I think?”
“Yes.”
“I think Alfred himself was up to something,” Duncan said gravely. “I think his fingers were in places they shouldn’t have been. He was using his position to achieve something. He had some kind of ambition, a goal. I can’t explain it, because I don’t know what it was. It’s just that I always got the impression that Alfred had a hidden agenda. While he was working for England, he was also working for himself. He had some kind of grand scheme.”
“Something criminal?”
Duncan shrugged. “It’s just speculation. The fact that his son has a dark cloud over him makes me more suspicious.”
“Did Hutchinson ever talk about Cyprus?”
“Only within the context of work. He was very concerned about the situation there. He felt that Cyprus was one of his priorities.”
“Do
you think he favored any particular side?”
“If he did, he didn’t mention it. I think he was fairly neutral on the subject. He always said that both sides were wrong and that they knew it. Neither side wants to admit they’re wrong, so it’s a contest of stubbornness. Alfred hoped to be a part of the peace process there. Maybe he wanted a Nobel Prize.”
“Ever hear of a man named Konstantine Romanos?”
Duncan frowned, then shook his head. “Who’s that?”
“A philosopher and mathematician. He’s a teacher in Athens who once had a guest stint in Texas at the same time as Hutchinson. You don’t recall our late ambassador mentioning him?”
“No.”
Bond was grasping at straws. It looked as if Manville Duncan didn’t know anything. Even his speculations were dubious. Still, Bond’s instincts told him that Duncan was right about one thing: Alfred Hutchinson did have a hidden agenda. He was up to something that didn’t fall under his duties as an ambassador. Bond didn’t know what it was either, but he was determined to find out.
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan,” Bond said, standing. “That’s all I need for now. Have a good trip tomorrow. When will you be back?”
Duncan sorted through some papers and found his diary. “I’m in France for two days.”
“If you think of anything, please get in touch with us. A message can be sent to me.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m trying to find Charles Hutchinson.”
“I see. Any clue to where he might be?”
Bond didn’t want to say. “He’s in Europe somewhere. Probably hiding.”
Duncan nodded. “Probably. Well, good luck.”
As Bond left the office and walked out into the rain, he couldn’t help feeling that the ghost of Alfred Hutchinson was laughing.
THIRTEEN
THE GREEK AGENT
SERGEANT MAJOR PANOS SAMBRAKOS OF THE GREEK MILITARY POLICE WAS usually up at the crack of dawn, ready for his routine monthly inspection of the camouflaged military storehouses on the island of Chios. This time, though, the sun was setting over the horizon, casting a hazy orange glow over the Aegean. He looked over at the coast of Turkey, plainly visible to the east, and still found it amazing that they could be so close to their enemies and shots were never fired.
The Facts Of Death Page 14