Devil May Care

looked into each other’s eyes.
    Then Bond was gone, over into the second boat, while Jaska had pushed off and was already preparing his fishing-nets so that he could show a legitimate purpose for his night-time excursion if anyone should stop him on the way home.
    Scarlett and Bond waved briefly in the mist, then settled in for the final part of the journey. Jaska’s brother was called Veli and looked at least ten years younger. He moved vigorously about his small craft and smiled constantly.
    He waited only a short time before engaging his outboard motor, and three hours later, after several refuellings from his onboard supply, they saw the port of Hamina, protected by its star-shaped fortress.
    By eight o’clock they were on Finnish soil and by ten they were on the express train to Helsinki.

20. A Wilderness of Mirrors
    It was a rainy evening in Paris, and René Mathis was sitting at his desk, flicking through some police reports that had been forwarded to the Deuxième. Rumours were flying round his department of a spectacular development in the battle against drugs, but no details had yet been confirmed.
    The green telephone rang, with its sharp, nagging note. There was a roar, an echo – then a familiar voice.
    ‘Where are you, James?’
    ‘I’m at the airport in Helsinki. I’m on my way to Paris. My flight leaves in half an hour. I wondered if you’d like dinner tomorrow night.’
    ‘Tomorrow? Er … Friday? Fridays are … Fridays are always difficult for me, James. So much tidying up to be done at the end of a week. Maybe a drink? There’s a nice bar I could show you. Or lunch one day? Are you here for the weekend?’
    ‘We’ll have to see what London says. And, René?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Give her my love.’
    At the airport in Paris, Bond put Scarlett into a taxi with a promise that he would telephone her at work the next day. They had decided to spend some time apart to recover from what they had been through, and Scarlett was anxious to speak to her employers and find out if there was news of Poppy. Bond had not demurred at the thought of some timeto rest and sleep: he was exhausted, and the poor girl seemed to be on her last legs.
    As she kissed him goodbye, she said, ‘I’ll be waiting for your call. Don’t let me down, James.’
    ‘Have I ever?’
    She shook her head silently as the taxi moved off. Bond watched the car receding into the rainy night, the girl waving from the back seat, her large brown eyes fixed on him till she was out of sight.
    He took the next cab on the rank and ordered it to the Terminus Nord. He always stayed in railway hotels if he could, and the Nord was the least pretentious. An earlier call from Helsinki to Regent’s Park had secured a wire transfer of funds to a bank in the place Vendôme, where he could collect it the following day. Moneypenny, unable to keep the elation from her voice at the sound of his, had also booked him a time to speak to M on the encrypted line in the late morning.
    There was a large room at the top of the Terminus Nord with a good shower and plentiful shampoo and soap. Bond had room service send up some whisky and Perrier, then poured himself a large glassful as he relaxed on the bed with a clean white towel wrapped round him.
    He lay back on the pillows and let the events of the last few days replay in his mind. It had taken him some time to find the Service’s man in Helsinki. He was new, and looked no more than twenty, but at least he had produced a couple of reasonable-looking passports in the course of the afternoon. Bond had given him the Luger to dispose of as he wished. He would get a new Walther PPK back in London.
    Tomorrow, he thought, would be a wonderful day. He could spend an idle morning buying new clothes, report toM, then lunch at the Rotonde or the Dôme and telephone Scarlett in the afternoon. After that, more sleep in his anonymous hotel room, then perhaps a film and dinner at one of the great restaurants, the Véfour or the Caneton.
    As for tonight, the Finnish notes he had changed at the airport had given him enough money for a good dinner, but he didn’t feel in the mood. He rang down again to Reception, told them to bring an omelette fines herbes and the rest of the whisky bottle.
    When he had done it justice, he rolled naked beneath the covers and slept without moving for twelve hours.
    Friday morning was brilliantly clear and sunny as Bond left his hotel and took a taxi to the place Vendôme. On the rue