Devil May Care

‘Every man’s fantasy, James. Twins.’
    ‘How did you do the birthmark?’
    ‘Tea and pomegranate juice.’
    ‘And the different eye colours?’
    ‘You noticed! I wasn’t sure men took these things in. Coloured contact lenses.’
    ‘I didn’t know you could buy such things.’
    ‘You can’t. Q section made them for me. It helped with the dissimilar twin story because identicals have the same eye colour.’
    ‘And what did you do that afternoon in Moscow, when I thought you were at the embassy?’
    ‘I just went to another park and stayed out of sight. I had to keep the story going till the end.’
    Bond smiled. ‘You’re one hell of an actress. You were so like yourself … And yet somehow not. And Mrs Rossi, too. Larissa.’
    ‘I know. I had two years at stage school from when I was twenty-one. It was one of the things that got me the job. That and speaking Russian.’
    ‘The way you turned your back on me in the cell when I told you we were leaving Poppy behind, so you could fake your sobs without me seeing your face …’
    Scarlett was so close that he could smell her skin, the faintest scent of Guerlain. Her eyes were looking up into his, pleading, brimming with tears.
    Rejecting an impulse to weaken, Bond stood up, ground out his cigarette and went over to the window. ‘What the hell was M thinking?’ he said.
    ‘I told you,’ said Scarlett, desperately. ‘He wanted you back. My predecessor was dead. 009 was acting up – close to a breakdown, they thought. M needed your experience and your strength. But he wasn’t sure you still had the will, the desire.’
    ‘It’s against all normal practice,’ said Bond. ‘How much did he brief you? You seemed to know more about Gorner than I did.’
    ‘Most of it I just made up,’ said Scarlett. ‘M gave me a free hand with the cover story. He said he didn’t need to know. He just told me to draw you in. He said I would find you … indispensable. And I did.’
    ‘And he mentioned my Achilles’ heel.’
    ‘Women? Darling, everyone knows that. It was the first thing Felix told me. “Mention the broad and the ’coon’ll be treed.” What on earth does that mean by the way?’
    ‘It’s a raccoon, I suppose. Some Davy Crockett thing.’
    ‘It’s even on your SMERSH dossier, I’m told, under “Weaknesses”.’
    Bond looked back at Scarlett’s anxious face. ‘How muchof the stuff you told me about Gorner and your father was true?’
    ‘Some. Please, James, just –’
    ‘How much?’
    ‘My father was a don at Oxford at the time, but he never knew Gorner. My father taught music. Not a Gorner speciality.’
    ‘And his hatred of Britain?’
    ‘I don’t really know how that started. But I was delighted when he spouted all that anti-British stuff, of course.’
    Bond breathed in deeply and looked back across the opulent hotel room at this woman in her black velvet dress, the force of her beauty checked only by the anguish in her eyes. Then he thought of all they had been through and how she had never once flinched or let him down. He took two hesitant steps towards her and saw her upper lip stiffen in reflexive arousal, as he had first seen it in Larissa Rossi in Rome.
    And whatever else was true or false, he knew this girl did love him. He reached out and wrapped his arms round her. She sighed and clamped her lips to his mouth while his hands slid down her dress and pulled her by the hips roughly against him.
    When they had kissed for a minute, Bond said, ‘Now we’re going to order dinner. Exactly as we described.’
    Scarlett went to the telephone. There were tears of relief in the corners of her eyes. ‘Shall we skip the eggs Benedict?’ she said.
    ‘Just this once. But I’d like a real drink first. A jug of martinis.’
    Scarlett began to order rapidly. ‘What year Château Batailley do you want?’
    ‘’Forty-five will do,’ said Bond.
    ‘They’re sending out for that vintage. Dinner will be up in half an hour.’
    ‘Time enough,’ said Bond. ‘Now come here. My boss told me to “press the flesh” and I don’t like to disobey orders.’
    The belle-époque furnishings of the room included mirrors on the doors of the many wardrobes, as well as one above the marble fireplace. Bond watched Scarlett as she undressed, slipping out of the black dress, the stockings and the black underwear. There were four, eight, sixteen of her. She was multiplied in reflection, stretched to infinity in the soft light of the warm