‘You’re connected, caller,’ said the Overseas operator. ‘Go ahead, please. New York calling London.’
Bond heard the calm English voice. ‘Universal Export. Who’s speaking, please?’
‘Can I speak to the Managing Director,’ said Bond. ‘This is his nephew James speaking from New York.’
‘Just a moment, please.’ Bond could follow the call to Miss Moneypenny and see her press the switch on the intercom. ‘It’s New York, Sir,’ she would say. ‘I think it’s 007.’
‘Put him through,’ M would say.
‘Yes?’ said the cold voice that Bond loved and obeyed.
‘It’s James, Sir,’ said Bond. ‘I may need a bit of help over a difficult consignment.’
‘Go ahead,’ said the voice.
‘I went uptown to see our chief customer last night,’ said Bond. ‘Three of his best men went sick while I was there.’
‘How sick?’ asked the voice.
‘As sick as can be, Sir,’ said Bond. ‘There’s a lot of ‘flu about.’
‘Hope you didn’t catch any.’
‘I’ve got a slight chill, Sir,’ said Bond, ‘but absolutely nothing to worry about. I’ll write to you about it. The trouble is that with all this ‘flu about Federated think I will do better out of town.’ (Bond chuckled to himself at the thought of M’s grin.) ‘So I’m off right away with Felicia.’
‘Who?’ asked M.
‘Felicia,’ Bond spelled it out. ‘My new secretary from Washington.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Thought I’d try that factory you advised at San Pedro.’
‘Good idea.’
‘But Federated may have other ideas and I hoped you’d give me your support.’
‘I quite understand,’ said M. ‘How’s business?’
‘Rather promising, Sir. But tough going. Felicia will be typing my full report today.’
‘Good,’ said M. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, that’s all, Sir. Thanks for your support.’
That’s all right. Keep fit. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, Sir.’
Bond put down the telephone. He grinned. He could imagine M calling in the Chief of Staff, ‘007’s already tangled up with the FBI. Dam’ fool went up to Harlem last night and bumped off three of Mr. Big’s men. Got hurt himself, apparently, but not much. Got to get out of town with Leiter, the CIA man. Going down to St. Petersburg. Better warn A and C. Expect we’ll have Washington round our ears before the day’s over. Tell A to say I fully sympathize, but that 007 has my full confidence and I’m sure he acted in self-defence. Won’t happen again, and so forth. Got that?’ Bond grinned again as he thought of Damon’s exasperation at having to dish out a lot of soft soap to Washington when he probably had plenty of other Anglo-American snarls to disentangle.
The telephone rang. It was Leiter again. ‘Now listen,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s calming down somewhat. Seems the men you got were a pretty nasty trio — Tee-Hee Johnson, Sam Miami and a man called McThing. All wanted on various counts. The F B I’s covering up for you. Reluctantly of course, and the Police are stalling like mad. The FBI big brass had already asked my Chief for you to be sent home — got him out of bed, if you please – mostly jealousy, I guess — but we’ve killed all that. Same time, we’ve both got to quit town at once. That’s all fixed too. We can’t go together, so you’re taking the train and I’ll fly. Jot this down.’
Bond cradled the telephone against his shoulder and reached for a pencil and paper. ‘Go ahead,’ he said.
‘Pennsylvania Station. Track 14. Ten-thirty this morning. “The Silver Phantom”. Through train to St. Petersburg via Washington, Jacksonville and Tampa. I’ve got you a compartment. Very luxurious. Car 245, Compartment H. Ticket’ll be on the train. Conductor will have it. In the name of Bryce. Just go to Gate 14 and down to the train. Then straight to your compartment and lock yourself in till the train starts. I’m flying down in an hour by Eastern, so you’ll be alone from now on. If you get stuck call Dexter, but don’t be surprised if he bites your head off. Train gets in around midday tomorrow. Take a cab and go to the Everglades Cabanas, Gulf Boulevard West, on Sunset Beach. That’s on a place called Treasure Island where all the beach hotels are. Connected with St. Petersburg by a causeway. Cabby’ll know it.