Win, Lose or Die (3 page)

“They will be Bond began.

“They will be in Invincible. Theywill have with them, like Gilbert and Sullivan’s Sir Joseph Porter, all their sisters and their cousins and their aunts. They will also be in danger. Almost certainly attempted abduction. At worst, murder. You will be there, in Invincible, to see it does not happen.”

“Can you explain about the danger, sir?” The trigger of magnetic interest had been squeezed deep in Bond’s mind.

M smiled like a man who has just hooked the biggest fish in the river. “Certainly, James. Bill and I will a tale unfold. It begins with that little problem in the Straits of Hormuz - the Japanese tanker, Son of Hitachi, or whatever it’s called . .

The Chief of Staff corrected the tanker’s name, and for his pains received a venomous glare from M, who barked, “You want to tell it, Tanner?”

“No, sir, you carry on, sir.”

“Good of you, Tanner. Thank you.” M’s mood was not only bellicose this morning, but sarcastic. He fixed Bond with the same, cold fish-eye look. “Ever heard of BAST?”

“Anagram for stab, sir?”

“No, 007, I mean BAST. B-A-S-T, and this is no laughing matter.”

The smile on Bond’s face disappeared quickly. M was being too serious and prickly for jokes. “No, sir. BAST is news to me.

What is it?”

With a wave of his hand and a vocal sound meant to signify deep displeasure, M motioned to his Chief of Staff to explain.

“James,” Tanner came over and. leaned against the desk, “this really is a very serious and alarming business. BAST is a group; an organisation. The name hasn’t been circulated as yet, simply because we didn’t have many leads or details at first. The name’s pretty puerile, that’s why nobody took it very seriously to begin with. But BAST appears to be an acronym for Brotherhood of Anarchy and Secret Terror.”

“Sounds like a poor man’s SPECTRE to me.” Bond’s brow wrinkled and there was concern in his eyes.

“At first we thought it might be a splinter group of the old SPECTRE, but it appears this is something new, and oddly unpleasant,” Tanner continued. “You recall the small bomb incidents in October of “87? All on one day; all coordinated?

There were fire bombs in a couple of London stores .

“The ones put down to animal rights activists?”

Tanner nodded, “But the others were not so easily explained.

One small plastique near the Vatican; another one which destroyed an American military transport - on the ground at Edwards Airforce Base: no casualties; one in Madrid; another, a car bomb, premature, shattering the French Minister of Defence’s car; and a large one in Moscow: near the Kremlin Gate, and not generally reported.”

“Yes, I saw the file.”

“Then you know the file said it was coordinated, but nobody had taken responsibility.”

Bond nodded.

“The file was lying by omission,” Tanner sounded grave now.

“There was a long letter, circulated to all the countries concerned.

In brief it said the incidents had been coordinated by the Brotherhood of Anarchy and Secret Terror, to be referred to as BAST.

Everyone did some back-tracking, because these kinds of groups do have a tendency to choose highfalutin names. The damage from those first incidents was small and there were no deaths, but those who advise on international terrorism told us to take them damned seriously, if only because BAST is a demonic name. BAST, it seems, is a word that comes from Ancient Egypt: sometimes known as Aim or Ayin. BAST is said to appear as a three-headed demon - head of a snake, head of a cat, head of a man - mounted on a viper. The demon BAST is connected with incendiarism, and we now have little doubt that the Brotherhood chose the name because of its demonic connotations.”

“Demons?” Bond raised his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Yes, demons.” M, who was far from being a superstitious man, appeared to be taking the entire thing very seriously. “A lot of research has been done on this. Now, we know that there are indeed three leaders - like the snake, man and cat - and a prime leader upon which they all ride and exist. The viper, if you like, comes by t’\e name of Bassam Baradj, a former ranking member of the PLO, a former friend of Arafat’s, and a wealthy man in his own right. Baradj is certainly paymaster and mastermind.”

Tanner nodded and said that other intelligence had pinpointed three associates of Baradj, all one-time members of Middle Eastern paramilitary political groups. “Abou Hamarik; All Al Adwan; and a young woman, Saphii Boudai - the man, the snake and the cat.

Apparently those are their key names: street names.

They’re all experienced in the arts of terrorism, they’re also disenchanted with all the old causes.

“They’ve embraced the idea of anarchy with one thought only.

They believe that Napoleon’s definition of anarchy is the one and only true definition - “Anarchy is the stepping stone to absolute power Bond felt a tingling chill down his spine. He had fought against fanatical shadows before.

“Y’see, James,” M appeared to have softened, “these people who sound so childish with their BAST signature, are far from childish.

Baradj can lay his hands on billions; he is also a shrewd and cunning strategist. The other leaders are trained soldiers in the terrorist wars. They can teach skills, and, through Baradj, they can buy and sell as many mercenaries as they need. Mad as it might seem, these people are pledged against practically all political and religious ideologies. They have their own ideal - to gain absolute power. What they do with that power once they’ve got it, heaven only knows. But that’s what they’re after, and, if recent activities are anything to go by, they’re going to be a nasty poisoned thorn in the sides of all nations and all types and conditions of government for some time to come.”

“And how do we know they’re after the little band of naval brass?”

Bond asked.

M explained. He spoke at length about the voice prints they had on three of the leading members of BAST; how they had also stumbled across the organisation’s call-sign or password, “Health depends on strength.”

“The problem is,” M went on, “that these people appear to be so flaky, as our American brothers-in-arms would say, that one is inclined not to take them seriously. We have to take them seriously. That strange and almost ridiculous attack on the Japanese tanker was their doing, and that was a rehearsal, carried out in cold blood. A supertanker,James, is not altogether unlike an aircraft-carrier. They wanted to see if they could take out a tanker, in order to test the feasibility of a similar assault on Invincible.”

“But how do we know that?” Bond pressed.

“We plucked two voices from the air.” M smiled for the first time since Bond had entered the room. “We got voice prints on Baradj and Abou Hamarik. It appears the latter organised the event - they coded it Operation WIN, incidentally - and Hamarik’s trying to plant, or compromise someone either already serving in Invincible, or on the staff of one of our visiting Admirals. The ones to whom you, 007, will act as Nanny.”

“Delighted, sir.” Bond’s lips curved into one of the cruellest smiles M had ever seen. Later the Chief was to say that, to use a Biblical expression, “Iron had entered into 007’s soul.” He was not far wrong.

Bond’s thoughts turned to Napoleon again and he remembered that he had also said, “A love of country, a spirit of enthusiasm, and a sense of honour, will operate upon young soldiers with advantage.” Not only young soldiers, James Bond considered, but Naval officers with a history of matters secret as well.

Many people in the intelligence world who knew Bond, were surprised a month later to read in the London Gazette BOND, James Commander RNVR. Relieved of current liaison duties at the Foreign Office. Promoted to the substantive rank of Captain RN and returned to active service forthwith.

Reflections in a Harrier

The Sea Harrier taxied to the foot of the so-called ski ramp - a wide metal hill, sweeping upwards at 120 - and the nose-wheel rolled into perfect alignment with the dark painted strip that was the centre line.

The legendary V/STOL (Vertical/Short Take-Off& Landing) pronounced “Veestol” - aircraft responded to the tiny throttle movement and climbed so that the entire fuselage became positioned into the upward configuration.

Bond went through the take-off checks for the last time: brakes on, flaps OUT, ASI (Air Speed Indicator) “bug” to lift-off speed.

The aircraft was alive, trembling to the idling of the Rolls-Royce (Bristol) Pegasus 104 turbofan which could generate an impressive 21,500 pounds of thrust.

On the Sea Harrier the thrust is channelled through two engine propulsion nozzles, set at port and starboard, capable of being rotated, from the aft horizontal position, through some 98.50. This is the Harrier’s great advantage over conventional fixed-wing aircraft, for the jet nozzles allow vertical lift plus horizontal flight, together with all the other variables in between, such as hover and backward flight.

Bond’s hand moved to the nozzle lever, and he glanced down to confirm that it was set to short take-off position at the 500 stop mark. He lifted his right hand into the clear thumbs-up position, which would be seen by the deck control handling officer in his “bubble” on the starboard side, and who Bond, strapped into the cockpit and angled towards a squally grey sky, could not see. At the same moment he heard the Commander (Air) give him the “Go” - “Bluebird cleared for take-off.”

Bond opened the throttle to 55 percent RPM, released the brakes, then slammed the throttle hard into fully-open. The Pegasus engine roared behind him, and he could feel himself pushed back against the padded metal seat as though a pair of giant hands were pressing his chest and face.

The Sea Harrier rocketed from the ramp, and as it did so, Bond flipped the gear into the “up” position, hardly noticing the whine and thump as the wheels came up into their housings, for in the first fifteen seconds or so of the ramp take-off the Harrier was not actually flying, but was shot, ballistically, into a high, fast trajectory.

Only when the ASI “bug” flashed and beeped did Bond set the nozzles to horizontal flight, and click flaps to IN. The head-up-display (HUD) showed that he was climbing at an angle of almost 600 at a speed in excess of 640 knots.

If the take-off had been from a carrier, or similar ship, the sea would lie directly below, but this, Bond’s first real take-off from the ski-ramp, was from the Royal Naval Air Station, Yeovilton in Somerset, among some of the West Country’s most beautiful landscapes. Not that he had any view of the ground now, for his Harrier had shot above the mile-high cloudbase and was still climbing as he set course for the bombing range in the Irish Sea, not far from the Isle of Man.

Though this was his first real ski-run take-off’ Bond had already done it a couple of dozen times on the simulator. He was now into the third week of his Harrier conversion course, and eight months into his return to active duty with the Royal Navy.

His promotion to Captain was a quantum leap, as it is for any Naval officer. Not that the new rank had made much difference over the past months. On all the courses Bond had taken, rank was well-nigh forgotten, and a Captain under instruction rated at about the same level as a Sub-Lieutenant.

Since starting the courses, he had studied the new advanced strategies of naval warfare which seemed to alter at alarming speed; another course on communications; a third on ciphers and an important fourth concerning advanced weaponry, including hands-on experience with the latest 3-D radar, Sea Darts and SAM missiles, together with new electronic weapons control systems operating the American Phalanx and Goalkeeper CIWS - Close In Weapon Systems: “sea-whizz” as they are known which have now become standard following the horrifying lessons learned during the Falklands Campaign.

Bond had always kept up his flying hours and instrument ratings, on jets and helicopters, in order to remain qualified as a naval pilot, but he had now reached the final and most testing course - conversion to the Sea Harrier.

After some twenty hours in Yeovilton in the flight simulator, he had flown Harriers in normal configuration of rolling take-offs and landings. The ski-jump take-off marked the beginning of the air combat and tactical weapons course. The whole thing appealed mightily to Bond, who revelled in learning and honing new skills. In any case, the Sea Harrier was a wonderful machine to fly: exciting and very different.

He now checked the HUD which showed him on course and cruising at around 900 knots along the military airway. Glancing down at the HDD the Head-Down-Display - he could see the visual map, the magic eye which gives the modern pilot a ground map view even through the thickest and most murky cloud. He was crossing the coast, just above Southport on the north-west seaboard, right on a heading for the bombing range. Now he would require total concentration as he lowered the Harrier’s nose towards the perceptible cloudscape below, the horizontal bars on the HUD sliding upwards to show he had the aircraft in a ten degree dive. Down the left hand side of the HUD he watched the speed begin to increase and blipped his airbrakes open for a second to control the dive. The altitude figures streamed down the left hand edge of the HUD showing a steady decrease in height - 30,000 … 25

… 20 … 15… By now he was in cloud, still going fast, his eyes flicking between airspeed, altitude, and the HDD, while his fret on the rudder bars made slight corrections.

He broke cloud at 3,000 feet and clicked on the air-to-ground sights, thumbing down on the button which would arm the pair of 100-pound clusterbombs which hung, one under each wing.

Below, the sea slashed by as he held an altitude of around 500 feet. Far ahead he glimpsed the first anchored marker flashing to lead him onto the bombing range where a series of similar markers were set in a diamond shape, which was the target.

It came up very fast and the HUD flashed the IN RANGE signal almost before it had registered from Bond’s eyes to his brain.

Instinctively he triggered the bombs and pulled up into a 300 climb, pushing the throttle fully open and pulling a hard 5G turn left, then right, so that his body felt like lead for a second before he turned, at speed, but more gently, to see the clusterbombs explode from their small parachutes directly across the diamond of buoys.