Devil May Care

places – asking for lenience in the case of these wretched pop singers. If drugs become embedded in a nation’s culture, it quickly becomes a third-world country. They sap the will to live. Look at Laos, Thailand, Cambodia. Not exactly superpowers, are they?’
    ‘It reminds me of Kristatos and that Italian operation,’ said Bond.
    ‘By comparison,’ said M, ‘that was chickenfeed. Weekend smuggling. So was that little job in Mexico just before you met Goldfinger.’
    ‘And where do I find Gorner?’
    ‘The man crops up everywhere. One of his hobbies is aviation. He has two private planes. He spends a good deal of time in Paris, but I don’t think you’ll have much difficulty in recognizing him.’
    ‘Why’s that?’ said Bond.
    ‘His left hand,’ said M, sitting down again, and staring Bond squarely in the eye. ‘It’s a monkey’s paw.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘An extremely rare congenital deformity. There’s a conditionknown as main de singe, or monkey’s hand, which is when the thumb makes a straight line with the fingers and is termed “unopposable”. Being in the same plane as the other digits, it can’t grip. It’s like picking up a pencil between two fingers.’ M demonstrated what he meant. ‘It can be done, but not very well. The development of the opposable thumb was an important mutation for Homo sapiens from his ancestors. But what Gorner has is something more. The whole hand is completely that of an ape. With hair up to the wrist and beyond.’
    Something was stirring in Bond’s memory. ‘So it would be larger than the right hand,’ he said.
    ‘Presumably. It’s very rare, though not unique, I believe.’
    ‘Does he travel with a sidekick in a Foreign Legion hat?’
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ said M.
    ‘I think I may have come across him. In Marseille.’
    ‘At the docks?’
    ‘Yes.’
    M sighed. ‘That sounds all too feasible.’
    ‘Is he about my age, strongly built, straight oily fair hair a bit too long at the back, Slavic –’
    ‘Stop there,’ said M, pushing a photograph across the desk. ‘Is this the man?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Bond. ‘That’s him.’
    ‘It looks like your destiny,’ said M, with a wintry smile.
    ‘I don’t believe in destiny,’ said Bond.
    ‘It’s time you did,’ said M. ‘The best defector SIS has ever had was a colonel in Russian military intelligence. Penkovsky. One of their men spotted him in a café in Ankara looking depressed. That’s all. Just a look in his eye. They took it from there. It was fate.’
    ‘And observation,’ said Bond, stubbing out his cigarette. ‘So, does this mean I’m fully operational again?’ he said.
    ‘I have in mind a phased return,’ said M. ‘You do the reconnaissance. You do your course with R. Then we’ll see.’
    An unpleasant thought occurred to Bond. ‘You haven’t mentioned any of this to 009, have you? Or this new man, 004? I’m not going to do the leg work for another agent, am I?’
    M shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Listen, 007. This Dr Gorner is potentially the most dangerous man the Service has yet encountered. I’m not setting you on the trail of some old dope peddler, but a man who seems intent on destroying the lives of millions and so undermining the influence of the West. I may use any number of operatives to stop him. I reserve that right.’
    Bond felt his boss’s grey eyes boring into him. He was sincere, all right. M coughed again. ‘There is a Russian link as well,’ he said, ‘that the Government’s particularly anxious about. A cold war can be waged in many ways. I need a report on my desk in six days’ time.’
    There was no point in taking the discussion any further, Bond thought. ‘Are the Deuxième in on this?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes. Get in touch with Mathis as soon as you arrive in Paris. Miss Moneypenny’s already booked your tickets and hotel.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’ Bond rose to go.
    ‘And, James, listen. You will be careful, won’t you? I know that drugs don’t sound like arms or even diamonds. But I have a bad feeling about this man. Very bad. He has a lot of blood on his hands already.’
    Bond nodded, went out and closed the door.
    Miss Moneypenny looked up from her desk. She held upa sealed brown envelope. ‘You lucky boy,’ she said. ‘Paris in the spring. I’ve found you a lovely hotel. Oh, look, you forgot to give M his chocolates.’
    Bond put the red bag down on her desk. ‘You have them,’ he said.
    ‘You are sweet, James. Thank