Solo

ethos of the Secret Service he knew that such solo personal initiatives were strictly forbidden. Punishments for going solo were draconian. Bond smiled to himself – he didn’t care. He knew absolutely what he wanted to do.
    The next day he dressed in a dark navy flannel suit, white shirt and black tie (his clothes had been sent from Chelsea by Donalda) and went down to administration and informed the duty officer that he was discharging himself. A doctor was summoned who strictly forbade him to leave – he needed at least another week to ten days to recover fully. Bond said he was going to stay with a cousin on his estate in South Uist in the Hebrides and gave a name and address – there was no telephone but he could always be reached by telegram – and took full responsibility for his decision.
    Bond sought out Sheila and said goodbye, thanking her warmly and kissing her on the cheek, then a taxi was summoned and he was driven to Edinburgh. In a bank in George Street he withdrew £300 in cash. He next went to an oyster bar off Princes Street where he ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, a dozen oysters and smoked salmon and scrambled egg. At Waverley Station he bought a first-class sleeper ticket to London and boarded the train. He took a sleeping pill and slept all the way through the night as the train thundered southwards. A steward woke him at six in the morning with a cup of strong British Rail tea and two digestive biscuits. Bond ignored the tea – he didn’t drink tea – but gladly ate the biscuits.
    He booked himself a room in a clean but somewhat decrepit bed and breakfast near King’s Cross under the alias of Jakobus Breed and considered his few options. As far as he was concerned everyone would think he was convalescing in the Hebrides for a month. The address he’d given to the hospital and to Minty was that of Donalda’s uncle. The key factor, Bond thought, was that nobody knew he was in London. He had plenty of cash and he had plenty of time – somewhere in the city he would pick up the ghost of a trail that would lead him to his quarry and he had a good idea where to start. But first of all he needed some essential equipment and information that were hidden in his Chelsea flat.
     
    Bond sat in a booth at the rear of the Café Picasso on the King’s Road, a carafe of Barolo and a plate of spaghetti amatriciana in front of him, his eyes on the door. He’d finished his spaghetti when Donalda entered and he waved her over. She sat down at the table, unable to conceal how pleased she was to see him as they greeted each other.
    ‘The flat’s all finished, sir,’ Donalda said. ‘And they did a grand job. It’s a shame you haven’t been here to enjoy it.’
    ‘I’ve been abroad,’ Bond said.
    ‘Have you no been very well? You look a bit pale, sir.’
    ‘I got some kind of bug.’
    Bond supposed that May had told Donalda the bare minimum about her employer’s unusual job. The less she knew and the fewer questions she asked, the better.
    ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m back in London,’ Bond said, choosing his words carefully. ‘That’s why I’m meeting you here – I think someone may be watching the flat.’
    ‘I’ve seen nobody suspicious in the square,’ Donalda said. ‘And I’ve been popping in every two or three days – just to check, like, and gather up the post.’
    ‘Good. So you could pop in again, now, and unlatch the big window that looks on to the back garden.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘Then leave, and come back as usual in a couple of days.’
    ‘All right, sir.’ She couldn’t help a small smile of excitement at all this subterfuge.
    ‘And your uncle knows what to say if anyone comes looking for me.’
    ‘You’ve gone to Inverness. Fishing trip.’
    ‘Perfect. Thank you, Donalda.’ Bond poured himself another glass of Barolo. ‘Do you want a glass of wine?’
    ‘I’ll just have one of those wee frothy coffees, if you don’t mind, sir.’ She opened her handbag and took out some envelopes. ‘There’s a few bills need paying and I ran out of cheques.’
    Bond gave her the necessary cash and ordered a cappuccino.
    ‘What do I do if I need to get hold of you?’ Donalda asked.
    ‘Call the usual number and leave a message for me. Then I’ll call you back.’
    ‘Fine,’ Donalda said and smiled brightly. ‘Delicious coffee, here.’
    After Donalda left to go to the flat Bond waited ten minutes then walked down the King’s Road to the