Win, Lose or Die by John Gardner Read Free Book Online

go. In fact that is essential.”
    Pantano smiled, showing a small goldmine of fillings, before he went through the final phase. His bombing run had been normal up to the time when he climbed away. “I simply pulled into a 300 climb to show myself to the radar. At 1,000 feet I let all the flares go, switched off my radar and banged on the ECM.” The ECM (the Electronic Counter Measures Pod) is used to confuse ground radar and missiles.
    “This was not foolproof, of course, but I went down to zero feet and set the course you had given me. It was pretty exciting, I can tell you. I was just feet above the water. There were times when I was getting salt spray on the wind shield, and even with the heater and wipers going full blast I couldn’t budge all of it. Also, I had the throttle banged wide open and the altimeter “bug’ was screaming at me.
    I had it set to minimum - one hundred feet - and it went crazy. It was more like a boat ride than flying.” The Harrier had run right out into the Atlantic, then turned towards the Bay of Biscay. Two hundred miles later, Pantano had slowed to a hover beside the waiting Estado Novo.
    There was ample room to make a vertical landing, and almost before he was out of the cockpit, the crew had started to erect false sides which eventually made up the huge container standing on the forward deck.
    “Good,” Hamarik’s oily smile greased over his face. “You have done well. Now, all we have to do is make certain the machine is fully fuelled, overhauled, and fitted with the other weapons. Then, you will be ready for stage two of your part in the operation we are to call LOSE. There is meant to be humour in that. Operation LOSE means that the major powers lose all that is dear to them, for what country can function without their personal gyroscopes?”
    “I don’t follow that part of it.” Pantano did not press the point, though he was obviously intrigued.
    “You don’t follow it because you do not know what is really at stake.” The greased smile again. Then Hamarik rose from his chair.
    “Come, let us eat and talk of good things. We have a small gift for you on board. She is from Egypt and, I am told, enjoys the same kind of trivial pursuit as yourself. Food first, for you will require energy.
    James Bond was flying for most of the Saturday and the wardroom was almost empty when he went in to dine at around eight in the evening. He entered the ante-room and was surprised to see Clover, in a smart, almost military-looking dress - beige with brass buttons and darker beige piping around the shoulders and collar.
    “How are you tonight, then, Clover?” He smiled, as though the lencing of the previous evening was now well forgotten.
    “I’m fine, sir.” She returned the smile though she spoke formally. “I was waiting to try and get a word with you.”
    “Right. How about dinner?”
    “That’s really nice. I’ll get my coat, can we Bond shook his head, putting an arm out to stop her. “There are few people in the wardroom on a Saturday night, Clover.
    Let’s see what they have for us there. I seem to remember that on the ratings’ messdecks of a Saturday evening, it was always “Herrings in’.” He recalled it well enough from the days when, as Officer of the Watch, he had to do rounds of the messdecks. “Herrings in” was the name they always gave to the large tins of herrings in tomato sauce, a favourite among both ratings and Petty Officers. Bond could never understand it. The food looked and smelled revolting to him, but there were never any complaints on Saturday nights. He presumed things had changed since then.
    The only people dining in at that time were the Officer of the Watch and the Royal Marines Duty Officer, who both nodded deferentially to Bond as he led Clover to a couple of chairs distant to the other two officers. The Wren stewards served them with the only choice on the Saturday night menu - smoked salmon, followed by grilled steak. Bond took his