He ground his teeth. Suddenly Mathis’s words came back to him: ‘There are plenty of really black targets around,’ and, earlier, ‘What about SMERSH? I don’t like the idea of these chaps running around France killing anyone they feel has been a traitor to their precious political system.’
How soon Mathis had been proved right and how soon his own little sophistries had been exploded in his face!
While he, Bond, had been playing Red Indians through the years (yes, Le Chiffre’s description was perfectly accurate), the real enemy had been working quietly, coldly, without heroics, right there at his elbow.
He suddenly had a vision of Vesper walking down a corridor with documents in her hand. On a tray. They just got it on a tray while the cool secret agent with a Double O number was gallivanting round the world – playing Red Indians.
His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands and his body sweated with shame.
Well, it was not too late. Here was a target for him, right to hand. He would take on SMERSH and hunt it down. Without SMERSH, without this cold weapon of death and revenge, the MWD would be just another bunch of civil servant spies, no better and no worse than any of the western services.
SMERSH was the spur. Be faithful, spy well, or you die. Inevitably and without any question, you will be hunted down and killed.
It was the same with the whole Russian machine. Fear was the impulse. For them it was always safer to advance than to retreat. Advance against the enemy and the bullet might miss you. Retreat, evade, betray, and the bullet would never miss.
But now he would attack the arm that held the whip and the gun. The business of espionage could be left to the white-collar boys. They could spy, and catch the spies. He would go after the threat behind the spies, the threat that made them spy.
The telephone rang and Bond snatched up the receiver.
He was on to ‘the Link’, the outside liaison officer who was the only man in London he might telephone from abroad. Then only in dire necessity.
‘This is 007 speaking. This is an open line. It’s an emergency. Can you hear me? Pass this on at once. 3030 was a double, working for Redland.
‘Yes, dammit, I said “was”. The bitch is dead now.’