By Royal Command

  ‘Then you’ll know that I thought I was working for you,’ said Roan, struggling to her feet and standing awkwardly, her twisted ankle sending darts of pain up her leg. ‘I didn’t know who Obsidian was either. I knew nothing about Doctor Friend, or the Graf, or any of this. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was working for the struggle.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Babushka softly. ‘You were tricked. You could not have known.’

  A thickset man with a scar across his face came through the gates carrying a rifle. He glanced back towards the castle. The shooting appeared to have stopped. He said something to the colonel in Russian and she nodded towards Roan.

  The man slung his rifle over his shoulder, drew a pistol from his belt and casually aimed it at Roan.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Roan. ‘I’m on your side. You said you understood.’

  ‘If only we had got to you first,’ said Babushka, ‘how different things might have been. We have a great need of women like you.’

  ‘I’ll gladly come back to Moscow with you,’ said Roan. ‘I’ll do anything you ask of me. All I want is to be able to help the communist cause.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Babushka, ‘but can we trust you?’

  She looked down at the body of James Bond, lying still in the gravel.

  Roan looked, too. She wanted desperately to go to him, but she was terrified of the Russians.

  ‘Of course you can trust me,’ she said. ‘Did you not just see Doctor Friend try to kill me?’

  ‘This whole thing is a mess,’ said Babushka. ‘If we had been successful in Calais, you would have been spared all this. But the boy outwitted us, I am afraid. It was through him, though, that we eventually tracked you down. After Calais, we put all our operatives on to the case to work out where you might have been heading. We looked into Bond’s recent history and one of our guesses was that he might be coming back here, to Kitzbühel. So we put an agent in place, an Englishman called Nicholson. Unfortunately you decided to deliver Bond into the enemy’s hands just before I arrived with my men. Nicholson followed you yesterday and luckily he recognised the cars from here.’

  ‘Now here you are,’ said Roan, forcing a smile, ‘and, as they say, all’s well that ends well.’

  ‘Is it ended?’ asked Babushka.

  ‘Doctor Friend is dead,’ said Roan. ‘This base is finished.’

  ‘And what of Bond?’

  ‘What of me?’ said James, sitting up.

  ‘Oh, James, thank God you’re all right,’ said Roan, fighting back tears.

  ‘I’m not so sure I am all right,’ said James. ‘But I’m awake at least. I’ve got the devil of a headache, though.’

  ‘Doctor Friend’s bullet merely creased your temple,’ said Babushka.

  James put a hand to his head; there was a little blood, but nothing worse than a scalded scratch. He got shakily to his feet.

  ‘Colonel Sedova is a Russian,’ said Roan. ‘She’s come to –’

  ‘I know who Colonel Sedova is,’ James interrupted. ‘And I know why she’s here. I heard everything.’

  Babushka muttered something to the OGPU man and he swivelled his gun towards James.

  ‘This situation is very familiar,’ said Babushka. ‘Once before, in London, you held me at gunpoint. I asked you, as one soldier to another, to let me walk away.’

  ‘And I let you go,’ said James.

  ‘I suppose I should do the same now,’ said Babushka.

  ‘Your fight’s not with me,’ said James.

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No. If anything, you should thank me for stopping Dandy. If his bomb had gone off your lot would really be in the stink.’

  ‘My fight is against all enemies of the state,’ said Babushka.

  ‘I hardly think I pose much of a threat to the mighty communist empire,’ said James.

  ‘You would be very valuable to us, James. The British hold several of my agents. I could exchange you for them.’

  ‘I’m not coming to Russia with you,’ said James flatly.

  ‘I can offer you two choices,’ said Babushka. ‘I can take you with me, or I can shoot you now and have done with it.’

  ‘Then shoot me,’ said James, wearily rubbing his head, ‘because I’m not coming with you.’

  Babushka laughed. ‘You are a brave young man.’

  ‘I am a tired young man. I’ve had my fill of fighting.’

  ‘Let him go,’ said Roan. ‘He helped me escape. He has no argument with you.’

  ‘Keep out of this,’ snapped Babushka. ‘This is none of your business.’

  ‘It is so my business,’ said Roan angrily. ‘James and I are in this together.’

  ‘What do you care about him? You tried to deliver him up yourself.’

  ‘I was wrong. I know that now. I was trying to save my own neck. It was a dirty thing to do.’

  James looked Babushka in the eye.

  ‘Did my letting you go that time in London mean nothing?’ he asked.

  Babushka was still. She was thinking. Weighing up the options in her mind.

  ‘I have made my decision,’ she said.

  But James never learnt what that decision was, because at that moment all hell broke loose.

  It began when a shot rang out and the OGPU man at Babushka’s side fell with a sigh. At the same time there was a shout from the trees above the road. An English voice.

  ‘Put your hands up and throw down your weapons!’

  Before James could work out what was going on he saw Babushka drag her pistol from her tunic.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said and pulled the trigger.

  James heard Roan shout ‘NO!’ as he threw himself to the side. He knew he wasn’t going to be quick enough, though, not at this range. Only a miracle could save him.

  He hit the ground and noticed with a surge of relief that he was unhurt.

  Maybe a miracle had happened.

  But why was Roan lying at his side? And why was there blood on her white dress? Had she put herself between him and Babushka?

  He was gripped with panic. He desperately wanted to check that she was all right. The fight wasn’t over, though. Three armed men were running down the hillside.

  James could see that Babushka was torn between firing at them and shooting at him again.

  He didn’t hesitate. In one move he rolled over, grabbed the gun that had been dropped by the OGPU man, aimed it at Babushka’s chest and squeezed the trigger four times.

  Babushka grunted and was thrown backwards into the rocks by the side of the road.

  The next moment the three men arrived.

  ‘They weren’t going to shoot,’ said James bitterly as he got to his feet.

  ‘We couldn’t take the risk, son.’

  The men were British, dressed in camouflaged outfits with knitted caps. They moved towards the castle, guns at the ready. A moment later Nevin appeared, carrying a sniper’s rifle with telescopic sights. For once he wasn’t wearing his trilby. He pulled James out of the road behind the cover of a rock.

  ‘Can’t be too careful,’ he said. ‘Are you all right, lad?’

  ‘I’m not shot if that’s what you mean,’ said James. ‘But let me go to Roan, she’s hurt.’

  ‘You stay here, it’s too dangerous.’

  ‘I’ve done all right so far without your help,’ James shouted. ‘I can’t just leave her lying in the road.’

  ‘I’ve not come all this way to lose you now, lad,’ said Nevin, holding James by the arm. ‘When we’re given the all-clear we’ll get out from behind this rock. Until then we stay put.’

  ‘You’re too late, Nevin,’ said James, tearing himself from the man’s grip. ‘You’ve missed the party.’

  He stood up and looked over the rock.

  Roan had gone.

  Where she had been there was a small puddle of dark blood. More spots of it trailed away across the stony ground, skirting the Schloss before turning away on to a track that led
up the mountainside.

  ‘She’s not dead,’ said James, grinning with relief.

  A bullet sang through the air, fired from the castle walls. He’d been wrong – the party wasn’t over yet.

  ‘There’s another girl,’ said James. ‘She’s called Liesl. She’s hiding inside a shed in a rear courtyard. Make sure she’s all right, will you? Friend was holding her prisoner.’

  ‘Just stay back there,’ Nevin yelled, putting his sniper’s sights to his eye. ‘I’ll make sure she’s not hurt.’

  James wasn’t listening. He ran in a low crouch towards the mountain path, keeping his head down, expecting at any moment to be hit by another bullet.

  None came, and soon he was on the path and climbing away from the Schloss. Gradually the sounds of the battle dimmed.

  It was happening to someone else now. He wasn’t a part of it any more. The gunshots might as well be firecrackers or jumping jacks.

  He looked down at the road. There was no sign of Nevin. Babushka lay where she had fallen.

  How many other people would be dead before the end of the day?

  He ran as fast as he could now, his lungs burning. Once or twice he lost sight of the trail and had to stop and search for it, but for the most part there were spots of blood every few feet. Roan must be bleeding badly.

  He crested a ridge and took one last look back. He could see the rooftops of the Schloss, men moving about; a group of them ran into the road.

  James squinted.

  Babushka had gone.

  Maybe someone had taken her body?

  She wasn’t his concern any more. Let Nevin deal with it.

  All he had to worry about was Roan.

  He carried on, climbing ever higher up the mountain. The air grew cooler; the sounds of the battle were quieter still.

  Up and up he ran, through a tangle of tall pine trees, their scent filling the air. If it wasn’t for the ominous trail of blood on the ground, he might be out for a summer walk. A walk like those he had taken so many times before with Roan in the mountains.

  The path emerged from the trees. Green patches of grass covered the rocky ground; here and there wild flowers grew.

  And then, up ahead, he saw her. A tiny crumpled shape nestled in the lee of a rock. He sprinted over to her, praying that she was still alive.

  When he got to her he saw that her eyes were open and her lips trembling.

  Thank God.

  He knelt down next to her and stroked her face. Her arms were folded tight across her chest. Beneath them, her dress was stained a vivid scarlet. She was shaking, her skin so white it looked luminous, her wide eyes black as night.

  ‘Darling,’ she murmured. ‘You made it.’

  James took her in his arms and held her. She felt cold.

  ‘You’re going to be all right,’ he said. ‘I’ll get help. It’s over now; nobody’s trying to hurt you any more.’

  ‘Oh, that’d be nice,’ she said and smiled.

  James looked at the blood. ‘What did you do, you fool?’ he said.

  ‘I wouldn’t let her, darling. Not after everything. I wouldn’t let her kill you.’

  ‘It’s the bravest thing anyone’s ever done,’ said James.

  ‘I don’t think I’m brave,’ said Roan quietly, and she shivered.

  ‘Why did you come all the way up here?’ asked James.

  ‘To find some quiet. No more noise. I love the mountains. I wanted to see some snow. I thought if I came up here I might find some.’

  ‘There’s no snow,’ said James. ‘You’ve come all the way up here for nothing.’

  ‘Oh the trouble I’ve put you to, darling. You must think I’m a witch.’

  ‘No. I love you,’ said James. ‘Nothing you’ve ever done, or ever will do, can change that. I didn’t choose to love you; it just happened.’

  ‘And look how I treated you,’ said Roan. ‘Remember, I told you… You have to open your heart. You have to let it take a few knocks, so that it can toughen up. Only thing is, my heart, it took too many knocks, I reckon. It got too hard… Like stone. I have a stone heart, James, darling.’

  ‘No,’ said James. ‘Not a stone – a diamond, a beautiful diamond.’

  ‘Diamond heart,’ Roan whispered, and then she gave a small cough.

  ‘Don’t talk so much,’ said James. ‘You need to save your strength.’

  ‘No,’ said Roan, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘All that stuff I said, about the great cause, I don’t know if I really believe in it any more, if I ever did. Oh, I know there’s wrong in the world, the poor aren’t given a chance, but it was Dandy who taught me the politics. He was passionate about it. About Russia. The revolution.’

  ‘Please,’ said James. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But I didn’t want to tell you the truth,’ said Roan. ‘I couldn’t before. I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I had done.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said James.

  ‘Dandy,’ said Roan. ‘He wasn’t just my friend. He wasn’t just someone I was working with, a fellow agent… he was my husband, James.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We were married. I’d have done anything for him. When I found out he was dead my world fell in. I hated everyone and everything, I wanted to hurt someone…’

  ‘You wanted to hurt me?’ said James.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So you never felt anything for me at all?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Of course I did. I told you I loved you, didn’t I? Well you should never lie about anything as serious as love. But you can love someone and hate them at the same time.’

  ‘Do you hate me still?’

  ‘Oh, look, it’s snowing…’

  James looked around. He could see nothing.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t you see it?’ said Roan, with a childlike grin on her face. ‘White flakes in the air. Oh, they’re so beautiful, James. I knew I’d see some snow again before I died.’

  ‘You’re not going to die.’

  ‘Not as long as I’ve got you to look after me, eh? Of course I don’t hate you any more; you’re the most amazing boy I’ve ever met… Oh, but that pretty snow sure is cold. Look at it, we must be caught in a blizzard.’

  ‘There’s nothing there,’ said James, who was shaking with fear. ‘There’s no snow.’

  Roan took hold of his hand. Her skin felt frozen; her hand seemed very small, like a child’s hand. He tried rubbing it.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ said Roan. ‘So beautiful…’

  ‘Please don’t die,’ said James. But there was nothing he could do. She was slipping away from him. No matter how hard he held her, no matter how much he loved her, no matter what he said or did, he was helpless in the face of death.

  ‘Please…’ he whispered. But she could no longer hear him.

  32

  From on Top of a Mountain

  James sat in the sun on the top of the Hahnenkamm with his back against a rock. The clean air filled his lungs. The buildings of Kitzbühel were hidden from him. He might be the only person in the world, looking at a scene that had remained unchanged for millions of years. The petty squabbles of men meant nothing up here.

  From his vantage point he could see the vast range of other mountains spread out around him. To the south, the more distant peaks of the higher Alps were dusted with snow, but here they were a vivid emerald studded with black rocks and the darker green of the pine trees. The sky that stretched over his head in a great endless sweep was deep, deep blue. As he had ridden up alone in the cable-car, Kitzbühel had slowly shrunk until he felt he could reach out and take control of it, like a child playing with toy houses and cars. From up in the gondola it had all looked so clean and simple and ordered. That must be how God saw things. From a distance all looked well with the world.

  Down there it was different, though. He knew the reality of it. The wor
ld was messy and complicated; you could never be sure of anything anyone said or did. Real life was confusing. People made it so. They filled this perfect world with unhappiness, fear and violence.

  He wanted to stay up here forever. Stay up and never come down. Like Peter Pan he would somehow find a way to stay young forever. How marvellous it would be not to have to grow up and deal with all the messiness in the world. But he knew that you couldn’t stop time. You had to grow up. And you couldn’t keep the world away – sooner or later it would come looking and find you and drag you kicking and screaming back into its chaotic, churning belly.

  There were ways of dealing with the world. There were ways of understanding it. James would learn the best way. His body was bruised and battered. He was covered in cuts and scratches, each one reminding him of some part of what had happened since his return to Europe. But his body would heal. He knew that well enough; he had kissed goodbye to plenty of cuts and bruises over the years, even a few broken bones. He knew, though, that it would take much longer for his heart to heal, and for his mind to hide away the bad memories.

  He would protect his heart better in the future. He would grow a tough shell around it. Because he was painfully aware, sitting here, all alone, like some eagle in his eyrie, that this was his position in the world.

  Alone.

  He had been alone since his parents had died, and he was alone again now. When it came down to it there was only one person he could rely on in the world, and he was called James Bond. Well – he stretched out and looked up at the sky – there was nothing wrong with being alone.

  He lay there for some time, feeling the massive bulk of the mountain beneath him, drawing strength from it, letting the tangled thoughts drift away.

  Finally James sat up. He was no longer alone. A group of walkers was moving slowly across the mountaintop from the cable-car station. They were no bigger than ants. He smiled. It was harder to be alone than you thought. He closed one eye and narrowed the other to a slit, then held his thumb up in front of his face so that it appeared to be hovering over the people. It was a giant’s thumb. God’s thumb. Poised to obliterate them.

  He crushed them.