Devil May Care

eyes off Scarlett’s bare feet. She warned them they would need to walk for another half an hour before they came to a road of any size. She gave them more bread and two wrinkled apples from a store.
    At the roadside, Scarlett waved down an agricultural lorry. By the time the driver realized there was a male hitch-hiker as well, it was too late and they were on their way west. He took them to a market town and pointed out where they could find a junction with a main east–west road to Kazan, the Tatar capital, then on to Gorky, the industrial city at the centre of the Volga-Vyatka region. From Gorky, he said, it was only five hours by road to Moscow.
    When the driver had dropped them off, Bond helped Scarlett to tidy up as best she could. Their clothes had dried, but the jacket of her BOAC tunic was torn, and in any case looked suspicious with its braid and insignia, so they discarded it. Barefoot, in the navy skirt, which they pinned up with a hair grip to make it look short enough to catch the eye of passing drivers, and with her hair tied back as neatly as possible, Scarlett looked like a beautiful but dishevelled schoolmistress, Bond told her – just the sort of woman men would want to stop and help.
    More than a dozen vehicles of varying kinds slowed and pulled over for her, but none met Bond’s requirements. From his concealed position behind a fir tree, he shook his head in answer to Scarlett’s interrogative glances.
    Bond was beginning to wonder if there were any decent cars in this totalitarian country when at last he heard the sound of a 2.5-litre, four-cylinder engine and saw a black Volga M21, the ‘Russian Mercedes’, approaching down the avenue of birches. It was the vehicle favoured by the KGB and thus the car most Russians least wanted to see outside their door at night. So much the better, thought Bond, for his purposes.
    Scarlett stood in the road, and the car slowed down. A single man was at the wheel, and leaned across to open thedoor. He was in his fifties, grey-haired, plump and wearing a suit without a tie. Not KGB, Bond thought, but probably an illegal dealer of some kind. Either that, or a favoured Party functionary.
    As Scarlett got into the front, Bond climbed into the back. Scarlett explained to the disgruntled driver that he was her brother and that he was soft in the head, which was why he never spoke.
    They drove west towards Kazan for an hour, and when they had reached a desolate stretch of road, far from any habitation, Bond pulled the Luger from his waistband and put it to the driver’s ear.
    ‘Tell him to slow down and stop.’
    All three climbed out of the car and walked to a clump of trees so they would be out of sight.
    ‘Tell him to strip to his underclothes.’
    Scarlett looked away while Bond stripped naked and put on the man’s suit. There was a wallet in the inside pocket, from which he extracted the cash.
    ‘How much is this?’
    Scarlett counted it. ‘Enough for food and drink.’
    ‘Petrol?’
    ‘Yes. But not clothes.’
    ‘Tell him to wait here for ten minutes before he moves. Tell him we’ll leave his car in Moscow. And say I’m sorry.’
    Bond and Scarlett ran back to the Volga and took off with a screech.
    ‘When we get to Moscow,’ said Scarlett, ‘will we go to the British embassy?’
    ‘No,’ said Bond. ‘As far as the embassy’s concerned, the Service doesn’t exist. Especially in Moscow. I can’t use their protection. You can, though.’
    ‘But without my Russian, you won’t make it.’
    ‘I might.’
    ‘I’m not leaving you, James. Not now.’
    ‘All right, but if so you’d better get some sleep. This bench seat can turn into a double bed. The Russians are very proud of it. They’ve shown it often at the London Motor Show.’
    An hour later, Bond woke her. They were at a petrol station, where an old man came out to work the pump.
    Inside the car, Bond said, ‘Get out to stretch your legs and tell him I’m going inside his hut to pay.’
    The man nodded as Scarlett spoke to him, and Bond walked inside the building. A woman in a headscarf sat behind a counter.
    Bond took the Luger and pointed it at the cash drawer, at the same time raising a finger to his lips. The terrified woman pulled open the drawer and Bond filled his pockets with the notes inside as well as some loose change for the telephone. He motioned to the cashier to take off her headscarf, cardigan and shoes and to hand them over.
    Then, raising his finger once