Read Bond 01 - Casino Royale Online
Authors: Ian Fleming
Tags: #Suspense, #Mystery, #Adventure, #Thriller, #Classics
Bond 01 - Casino Royale (21 page)
He sat on the edge of his bed and gazed out of the window at the peaceful sea. Then he stared dully at the envelope. It was addressed simply in a large round hand ‘Pour Lui’.
The thought passed through Bond’s mind that she must have left orders to be called early, so that it would not be he who found her.
He turned the envelope over. Not long ago it was her warm tongue which had sealed the flap.
He gave a sudden shrug and opened it.
It was not long. After the first few words he read it quickly, the breath coming harshly through his nostrils.
Then he threw it down on the bed as if it had been a scorpion.
My darling James [the letter opened],
I love you with all my heart and while you read these words I hope you still love me because, now, with these words, this is the last moment that your love will last. So good-bye, my sweet love, while we still love each other. Good-bye, my darling.
I am an agent of the M.W.D. Yes, I am a double agent for the Russians. I was taken on a year after the war and I have worked for them ever since. I was in love with a Pole in the R.A.F. Until you, I still was. You can find out who he was. He had two D.S.O.s and after the war he was trained by M. and dropped back into Poland. They caught him and by torturing him they found out a lot and also about me. They came after me and told me he could live if I would work for them. He knew nothing of this, but he was allowed to write to me. The letter arrived on the fifteenth of each month. I found I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t bear the idea of a fifteenth coming round without his letter. It would mean that I had killed him. I tried to give them as little as possible. You must believe me about this. Then it came to you. I told them you had been given this job at Royale, what your cover was and so on. That was why they knew about you before you arrived and why they had time to put the microphones in. They suspected Le Chiffre, but they didn’t know what your assignment was except that it was something to do with him. That was all I told them.
Then I was told not to stand behind you in the Casino and to see that neither Mathis nor Leiter did. That was why the gunman was nearly able to shoot you. Then I had to stage that kidnapping. You may have wondered why I was so quiet in the night club. They didn’t hurt me because I was working for M.W.D.
But when I found out what had been done to you, even though it was Le Chiffre who did it and he turned out to be a traitor, I decided I couldn’t go on. By that time I had begun to fall in love with you. They wanted me to find out things from you while you were recovering, but I refused. I was controlled from Paris. I had to ring up an Invalides number twice a day. They threatened me, and finally they withdrew my control and I knew my lover in Poland would have to die. But they were afraid I would talk, I suppose, and I got a final warning that
SMERSH
would come for me if I didn’t obey them. I took no notice. I was in love with you. Then I saw the man with the black patch in the Splendide and I found he had been making inquiries about my movements. This was the day before we came down here. I hoped I could shake him off. I decided that we would have an affair and I would escape to South America from Le Havre. I hoped I would have a baby of yours and be able to start again somewhere. But they followed us. You can’t get away from them.
I knew it would be the end of our love if I told you. I realized that I could either wait to be killed by
SMERSH
, and perhaps get you killed too, or I could kill myself.
There it is, my darling love. You can’t stop me calling you that or saying that I love you. I am taking that with me and the memories of you.
I can’t tell you much to help you. The Paris number was Invalides 55200. I never met any of them in London. Everything was done through an accommodation address, a newsagents at 450 Charing Cross Place.
At our first dinner together you talked about that man in Yugoslavia who was found guilty of treason. He said: ‘I was carried away by the gale of the world.’ That’s my only excuse. That, and for love of the man whose life I tried to save.
It’s late now and I’m tired, and you’re just through two doors. But I’ve got to be brave. You might save my life, but I couldn’t bear the look in your dear eyes.
My love, my love.
Bond threw the letter down. Mechanically he brushed his fingers together. Suddenly he banged his temples with his fists and stood up. For a moment he looked out towards the quiet sea, then he cursed aloud, one harsh obscenity.
His eyes were wet and he dried them.
He pulled on a shirt and trousers and with a set cold face he walked down and shut himself in the telephone booth.
While he was getting through to London, he calmly reviewed the facts of Vesper’s letter. They all fitted. The little shadows and question marks of the past four weeks, which his instinct had noted but his mind rejected, all stood out now like signposts.
He saw her now only as a spy. Their love and his grief were relegated to the boxroom of his mind. Later, perhaps they would be dragged out, dispassionately examined, and then bitterly thrust back with other sentimental baggage he would rather forget. Now he could only think of her treachery to the Service and to her country and of the damage it had done. His professional mind was completely absorbed with the consequences – the covers which must have been blown over the years, the codes which the enemy must have broken, the secrets which must have leaked from the centre of the very section devoted to penetrating the Soviet Union.
It was ghastly. God knew how the mess would be cleared up.
He ground his teeth. Suddenly Mathis’s words came back to him: ‘There are plenty of really black targets around,’ and, earlier, ‘What about
SMERSH
? I don’t like the idea of these chaps running around France killing anyone they feel has been a traitor to their precious political system.’
Bond grinned bitterly to himself.
How soon Mathis had been proved right and how soon his own little sophistries had been exploded in his face!
While he, Bond, had been playing Red Indians through the years (yes, Le Chiffre’s description was perfectly accurate), the real enemy had been working quietly, coldly, without heroics, right there at his elbow.
He suddenly had a vision of Vesper walking down a corridor with documents in her hand. On a tray. They just got it on a tray while the cool secret agent with a Double O number was gallivanting round the world – playing Red Indians.
His finger nails dug into the palms of his hands and his body sweated with shame.
Well, it was not too late. Here was a target for him, right to hand. He would take on
SMERSH
and hunt it down. Without
SMERSH
, without this cold weapon of death and revenge, the M.W.D. would be just another bunch of civil servant spies, no better and no worse than any of the western services.
SMERSH
was the spur. Be faithful, spy well, or you die. Inevitably and without any question, you will be hunted down and killed.
It was the same with the whole Russian machine. Fear was the impulse. For them it was always safer to advance than to retreat. Advance against the enemy and the bullet might miss you. Retreat, evade, betray, and the bullet would never miss.
But now he would attack the arm that held the whip and the gun. The business of espionage could be left to the white-collar boys. They could spy, and catch the spies. He would go after the threat behind the spies, the threat that made them spy.
The telephone rang and Bond snatched up the receiver.
He was on to ‘the Link’, the outside liaison officer who was the only man in London he might telephone from abroad. Then only in dire necessity.
He spoke quietly into the receiver.
‘This is 007 speaking. This is an open line. It’s an emergency. Can you hear me? Pass this on at once. 3030 was a double, working for Redland.
‘Yes, dammit, I said “was”. The bitch is dead now.’
Courtesy of the Cecil Beaton Studio Archive at Sotheby’s
I
AN
F
LEMING
was born in London on May 28, 1908. He was educated at Eton College and later spent a formative period studying languages in Europe. His first job was with Reuters News Agency where a Moscow posting gave him firsthand experience with what would become his literary
bête noire
—the Soviet Union. During World War II he served as Assistant to the Director of Naval Intelligence and played a key role in Allied espionage operations.
After the war he worked as foreign manager of the
Sunday Times
, a job that allowed him to spend two months each year in Jamaica. Here, in 1952, at his home “Goldeneye,” he wrote a book called
Casino Royale
—and James Bond was born. The first print run sold out within a month. For the next twelve years Fleming produced a novel a year featuring Special Agent 007, the most famous spy of the century. His travels, interests, and wartime experience lent authority to everything he wrote. Raymond Chandler described him as “the most forceful and driving writer of thrillers in England.” Sales soared when President Kennedy named the fifth title,
From Russia With Love,
one of his favorite books. The Bond novels have sold more than one hundred million copies worldwide, boosted by the hugely successful film franchise that began in 1962 with the release of
Dr No
.
He married Anne Rothermere in 1952. His story about a magical car, written in 1961 for their only son, Caspar, went on to become the well-loved novel and film
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
.
Fleming died of heart failure on August 12, 1964, at the age of fifty-six.
