Page 78 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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He dreamed that he was at sea, in a violent thunderstorm which eventually

brought him to consciousness again and to the sounds that were thunder in his
dream. The carrier appeared to be making way, and the noise that had
penetrated his unconscious was that of jet aircraft coming aboard. It was dawn,
and a glance at his Rolex showed it was a little after five in the
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A few moments later there was a knock at the door and one of the Lion
Tamers, who had served the cold dinner in M’s cabin the night before, came in
with a breezy smile and a breakfast tray.
‘M’s compliments, sir. He’d be obliged if you would report to his cabin at

six o’clock sharp. I’ll be around to escort you. Lovely day out there.’
‘Are we at sea?’ Bond asked, sitting up.
‘Not what you’d call sea, sir. We’ve just moved out of the bay a little.
They’re taking aircraft on board.’
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‘I thought the ship only had a skeleton crew?’
‘Fleshed it out a mite while you were sleeping, sir. See you soon.’
Breakfasted, showered, shaved and dressed, Bond was taken up to M’s
cabin – the one they had used the night before – arriving at exactly two minutes

past six. Chi-Chi, Bill Tanner, the Scrivener and M were already gathered.
‘So glad you could join us.’ M looked sarcastically at his watch, being a
martinet concerning time.
‘Delayed by the crowds, sir,’ Bond threw back. ‘Like Piccadilly Circus this

morning. I thought we had the run of the ship.’
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‘Only this area,’ M said sharply. ‘We have taken aboard the minimum
personnel to carry out phase one of Curve. In other words, enough officers and
enlisted men to take us fifty miles out to sea, plus three F-14s and one

helicopter to ensure your trip to New York. You leave at two this afternoon. On
the dot, Bond, otherwise the whole business’ll be compromised.’
First they went through the paperwork with the Scrivener who had provided
passports identical to those carried by Argentbright and Mo, plus all the other

bits and pieces – credit cards, which they had to sign, an International driving
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licence for Bond and a Californian one in Jenny Mo’s name for Chi-Chi,
together with her social security and Blue Cross/Blue Shield cards. Cogger
was a painstaking craftsman and there was a whole bagful of pocket litter

ranging from cinema stubs and restaurant bills from Hong Kong to Amex
receipts from hotels. If the real Jenny Mo was truly out of the picture, they
would, Bond thought, be home and dry.

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