M more or less repeated Bond's question when, that evening, he looked up from the last page of the report that Bond had spent the afternoon dictating1 to Mary Goodnight. M's face was just outside the pool of yellow light cast by the green-shaded reading lamp on his desk, but Bond knew that the lined, sailor's face was reflecting, in varying degrees, scepticism, irritation2, and impatience3. The 'hell' told him so. M rarely swore and when he did it was nearly always at stupidity. M obviously regarded Bond's plan as stupid, and now, away from the dedicated4, minutely focused world of the Heralds5, Bond wasn't sure that M wasn't right.
'I'm to be an emissary from the College of Arms, sir. This Basilisk chap recommended that I should have some kind of a title, the sort of rather highfalutin one that would impress a man with this kind of bee in his bonnet6. And Blofeld's obviously got this bee or he wouldn't have revealed his existence, even to such a presumably secure and - er - sort of remote corner of the world as the College of Arms. I've put down there the arguments of this chap and they make a lot of sense to me. Snobbery's a real Achilles heel with people. Blofeld's obviously got the bug7 badly. I think we can get to him through it.'
'Well, I think it's all a pack of nonsense,' said M testily8. (Not many years before, M had been awarded the KCMG for his services, and Miss Moneypenny, his desirable secretary, had revealed in a moment of candour to Bond that M had not replied to a single one of the notes and letters of congratulation. After a while he had refused even to read them and had told Miss Moneypenny not to show him any more but to throw them in the wastepaper basket.) 'All right then, what's this ridiculous title to be? And what happens next?'
If Bond had been able to blush, he would have blushed. He said, 'Er - well, sir, it seems there's a chap called Sir Hilary Bray9. Friend of Sable10 Basilisk's. About my age and not unlike me to look at. His family came from some place in Normandy. Family tree as long as your arm. William the Conqueror11 and all that. And a coat of arms that looks like a mixture between a jigsaw12 puzzle and Piccadilly Circus at night. Well, Sable Basilisk says he can fix it with him. This man's got a good war record and sounds a reliable sort of chap. He lives in some remote glen in the Highlands, watching birds and climbing the hills with bare feet. Never sees a soul. No reason why anyone in Switzerland should have heard of him.' Bond's voice became defensive13, stubborn. 'Well, sir, the idea is that I should be him. Rather fancy cover, but I think it makes sense.'
'Sir Hilary Bray, eh?' M tried to conceal14 his scorn. 'And then what do you do? Run around the Alps waving this famous banner of his?'
Bond said patiently, obstinately15, refusing to be browbeaten16, 'First I'll get Passport Control to fix up a good passport. Then I mug up Bray's family tree until I'm word-perfect on the thing. Then I swot away at the rudiments17 of this heraldry business. Then, if Blofeld takes the bait, I go out to Switzerland with all the right books and suggest that I work out his de Bleuville pedigree with him."
'Then what?'
'Then I try and winkle him out of Switzerland, get him over the frontier to somewhere where we can do a kidnap job on him, rather like the Israelis did with Eichmann. But I haven't worked out all the details yet, sir. Had to get your approval and then Sable Basilisk has got to make up a damned attractive fly and throw it over these Zurich solicitors18.'
'Why not try putting pressure on the Zurich solicitors and winkle Blofeld's address out of them? Then we might think of doing some kind of a commando job.'
'You know the Swiss, sir. God knows what kind of a retainer these lawyers have from Blofeld. But it's bound to be millionaire size. We might eventually get the address, but they'd be bound to tip off Blofeld if only to lay their hands on their fees before he vamoosed. Money's the religion of Switzerland.'
'I don't need a lecture on the qualities of the Swiss, thank you, 007. At least they keep their trains clean and cope with the beatnik problem [two very rampant19 bees in M's bonnet!], but I daresay there's some truth in what you say. Oh, well.' M wearily pushed the file over to Bond. 'Take it away. It's a messy-looking bird's-nest of a plan. But I suppose it had better go ahead.' M shook his head sceptically. 'Sir Hilary Bray! Oh, well, tell the Chief of Staff I approve. But reluctantly. Tell him you can have the facilities. Keep me informed.' M reached for the Cabinet telephone. His voice was deeply disgruntled. 'Suppose I'll have to tell the PM we've got a line on the chap. The kind of tangle20 it is, I'll keep to myself. That's all, 007.'
'Thank you, sir. Goodnight.' As Bond went across to the door he heard M say into the green receiver, 'M speaking. I want the Prime Minister personally, please.' He might have been asking for the mortuary. Bond went out and softly closed the door behind him.
* * *
So, as November blustered21 its way into December, James Bond went unwillingly22 back to school, swotting up heraldry at his desk instead of top-secret reports, picking up scraps23 of medieval French and English, steeping himself in fusty lore24 and myth, picking the brains of Sable Basilisk and occasionally learning interesting facts, such as that the founders25 of Gamages came from the de Gamaches in Normandy and that Walt Disney was remotely descended26 from the d'Isignys of the same part of France. But these were nuggets in a wasteland of archaisms, and when, one day, Mary Goodnight, in reply to some sally of his, addressed him as 'Sir Hilary' he nearly bit her head off.
Meanwhile the highly delicate correspondence between Sable Basilisk and the Gebrьder Moosbrugger proceeded haltingly and at a snail's pace. They, or rather Blofeld behind them, posed countless27 irritating but, Sable Basilisk admitted, erudite queries28 each one of which had to be countered with this or that degree of heraldic obfuscation29. Then there were minute questions about this emissary, Sir Hilary Bray. Photographs were asked for, and, suitably doctored, were provided. His whole career since his schooldays had to be detailed30 and was sent down from Scotland with a highly amused covering note from the real man. To test the market, more funds were asked for by Sable Basilisk and, with encouraging promptitude, were forthcoming in the shape of a further thousand pounds. When the cheque arrived on December 15th Sable Basilisk telephoned Bond delightedly. 'We've got him,' he said. 'He's hooked!' And, sure enough, the next day came a letter from Zurich to say that their client agreed to a meeting with Sir Hilary. Would Sir Hilary please arrive at Zurich Central Airport by Swissair flight Number 105, due at Zurich at 1300 hours on December 21st. On Bond's prompting, Sable Basilisk wrote back that the date was not convenient to Sir Hilary owing to a prior engagement with the Canadian High Commissioner31 regarding a detail in the Arms of the Hudson's Bay Company. Sir Hilary could, however, manage the 22nd. By return came a cable agreeing and, to Bond, confirming that the fish had not only swallowed the hook but the line and sinker as well.
The last few days were spent in a flurry of meetings, with the Chief of Staff presiding, at Headquarters. The main decisions were that Bond should go to the meeting with Blofeld absolutely 'clean'. He would carry no weapons, no secret gear of any kind, and he would not be watched or followed by the Service in any way. He would communicate only with Sable Basilisk, getting across such information as he could by using heraldic double talk (Sable Basilisk had been cleared by MI5 immediately after Bond's first meeting with him), and Sable Basilisk, who vaguely32 thought that Bond was employed by the Ministry33 of Defence, would be given a cut-out at the Ministry who would be his go-between with the Service. This was all assuming that Bond managed to stay close to Blofeld for at least a matter of days. And that was to be his basic stratagem34. It was essential to find out as much as possible about Blofeld, his activities and his associates, in order to proceed with planning the next step, his abduction from Switzerland. Physical action might not be necessary. Bond might be able to trick the man into a visit to Germany, as a result of a report which Sable Basilisk had prepared of certain Blofeld family documents at the Augsburg Zentral Archiv, which would need Blofeld's personal identification. Security precautions would include keeping Station Z completely in the dark about Bond's mission to Switzerland and a closure of the 'Bedlam35' file at Headquarters which would be announced in the routine 'Orders of the Day'. Instead, a new code-word for the operation, known only to an essential handful of senior officers, would be issued. It would be 'CORONA36'.
Finally, the personal dangers to Bond himself were discussed. There was total respect for Blofeld at Headquarters. Nobody questioned his abilities or his ruthlessness. If Bond's true identity somehow became known to Blofeld, Bond would of course instantly be liquidated37. A more dangerous and likely event would be that, once Blofeld had probed Bond's heraldic gen to its rather shallow bottom and it had been proved that he was or was not the Comte de Bleuville, Sir Hilary Bray, his usefulness expended38, might 'meet with an accident'. Bond would just have to face up to these hazards and watch out particularly for the latter. He, and Sable Basilisk behind him, would have to keep some tricks up their sleeves, tricks that would somehow make Sir Hilary Bray's continued existence important to Blofeld. In conclusion, the Chief of Staff said he considered the whole operation 'a lot of bezants' and that 'Bezants' would have been a better code-word than 'Corona'. However, he wished Bond the best of luck and said, cold-heartedly, that he would instruct the Technical Section to proceed forthwith with the devising of a consignment39 of explosive snowballs for Bond's protection.
It was on this cheery note that Bond, on the evening of December 21st, returned to his office for a last run-through of his documentation with Mary Goodnight.
He sat sideways to his desk, looking out over the triste winter twilight40 of Regent's Park under snow, while she sat opposite him and ran through the items: 'Burke's Extinct and Dormant41 Baronetage, property of the College of Heralds. Stamped "Not to be removed from the Library". The printed Visitations in the College of Arms, stamped ditto. Genealogist's Guide, by G. W. Marshall, with Hatchard's receipted bill to Sable Basilisk inserted. Bur he's General Armory42, stamped "Property of the London Library", wrapped and franked December 10th. Passport in the name of Sir Hilary Bray, containing various recently-dated frontier stamps in and out of France, Germany, and the Low Countries, fairly well used and dog-eared. One large file of correspondence with Augsburg and Zurich on College of Arms writing-paper and the writing-paper of the addressees. And that's the lot. You've fixed43 your laundry tags and so on?'
'Yes,' said Bond dully. 'I've fixed all that. And I've got two new suits with cuffs44 and double vents45 at the back and four buttons down the front. Also a gold watch and chain with the Bray seal. Quite the little baronet.' Bond turned and looked across the desk at Mary Goodnight. 'What do you think of this caper46, Mary? Think it'll come off?'
'Well, it should do,' she said staunchly. 'With all the trouble that's been taken. But' - she hesitated - 'I don't like you taking this man on without a gun.' She waved a hand at the pile on the floor. 'And all these stupid books about heraldry! It's just not you. You will take care, won't you?'
'Oh, I'll do that all right,' said Bond reassuringly47. 'Now, be a good girl and get a radio taxi to the Universal Export entrance. And put all that junk inside it, would you? I'll be down in a minute. I'll be at the flat all this evening' - he smiled sourly - 'packing my silk shirts with the crests48 on them.' He got up. 'So long, Mary. Or rather goodnight, Goodnight. And keep out of trouble till I get back.'
She said, 'You do that yourself.' She bent49 and picked up the books and papers from the floor and, keeping her face hidden from Bond, went to the door and kicked it shut behind her with her heel. A moment or two later she opened the door again. Her eyes were bright. I'm sorry, James. Good luck! And Happy Christmas!' She closed the door softly behind her.
Bond looked at the blank face of the Office of Works cream door. What a dear girl Mary was! But now there was Tracy. He would be near her in Switzerland. It was time to make contact again. He had been missing her, wondering about her. There had been three non-committal but cheerful postcards from the Clinique de 1'Aube at Davos. Bond had made inquiries50 and had ascertained51 that this was run by a Professor Auguste Kommer, President of the Societй Psychia-trique et Psychologique Suisse. Over the telephone, Sir James Molony, the nerve specialist by appointment to the Service, had told Bond that Kommer was one of the top men in the world at his job. Bond had written affectionately and encouragingly to Tracy and had had the letters posted from America. He had said he would be home soon and would be in touch with her. Would he? And what would he do then? Bond had a luxurious52 moment feeling sorry for himself, for the miscellaneous burdens he was carrying alone. He then crushed out his cigarette and, banging doors behind him, got the hell out of his office and down in the lift to the discreet53 side-entrance that said 'Universal Export'.
The taxi was waiting. It was seven o'clock. As the taxi got under way, Bond made his plan for the evening. He would first do an extremely careful packing job of his single suitcase, the one that had no tricks to it, have two double vodkas and tonics54 with a dash of Angostura, eat a large dish of May's speciality - scrambled55 eggs fines herbes - have two more vodkas and tonics, and then, slightly drunk, go to bed with half a grain of second.
Encouraged by the prospect56 of this cosy57 self-anaesthesia, Bond brusquely kicked his problems under the carpet of his consciousness.
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1
dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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2
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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12
jigsaw
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| n.缕花锯，竖锯，拼图游戏；vt.用竖锯锯，使互相交错搭接 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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16
browbeaten
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| v.（以言辞或表情）威逼，恫吓( browbeat的过去分词 ) | |
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17
rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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20
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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21
blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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obfuscation
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| n.昏迷，困惑；发暗 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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corona
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| n.日冕 | |
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liquidated
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| v.清算( liquidate的过去式和过去分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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41
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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42
armory
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| n.纹章，兵工厂，军械库 | |
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43
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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44
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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46
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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47
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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48
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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50
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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51
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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53
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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54
tonics
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| n.滋补品( tonic的名词复数 )；主音；奎宁水；浊音 | |
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55
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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56
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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57
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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