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

steak rare and, refusing the pommesfrites, ordered a small green salad.
    They talked idly, circling the problem both knew existed, until the main course had been served. It was Clover Pennington who took the lead “I wanted to apologise for last night.” She turned her eyes away and blushed as she spoke.
    “Apologise for what?” Bond stared at her until she had to make eye contact.
    “I broke all security regulations, sir. I shouldn’t have mentioned either invincible or Landsea “89. I’m sorry, it just seemed natural, particularly as I knew you were being drafted as well.”
    “You’re quite right.” Bond was almost sharp with her. “To have gained the rank of First Officer you should really have learned all the lessons of security by now. I have to be honest with you, Clover, I’ve always had great reservations about young women with either loud voices, or runaway tongues. The Royal Navy isn’t known as the Silent Service for nothing. We’ve an almost unblemished reputation for keeping mouths closed and ears open.
    “I know, sir. I’m sorry. I just thought that if I got my apology out of the way, perhaps Bond could not make up his mind whether she was just a garrulous woman, or an upper-class gold digger.
    “Perhaps what?”
    “Well, last night we “I think you’d do well to forget about last night. At least until the matters on your conscience are over.” In case he was being too harsh, Bond gave her a tight smile. “Let’s see how it all goes.
    After that, anything’s possible. We could meet socially. No problem there.”
    Clover Pennington looked suitably crestfallen, pushed her plate away, made a muttered excuse and left the wardroom.
    Bond quietly finished his meal, went into the ante-room, took a small brandy with his coffee, then headed back to his quarters.
    Tomorrow was a free day, but for him it would be a full one.
    He left the Royal Naval Air Station just after eight, having eaten his usual breakfast. Bond was beginning to realise what had attracted him to the Navy in the first place. He was a man of routine, and enjoyed the privileges that came with rank. But now, rank was put to one side. He wore civilian clothes, and drove the BMW with caution, keeping his eyes on the rear-view mirror. Even though he was in England, this was an operation and any contact with his real Service was a clandestine matter where Field Rules applied.
    He drove to Cheddar, pleased that on this late autumn Sunday there were few other people on the road. Certainly he appeared to be free of any surveillance as he turned off the main road and headed towards a modern house on the edge of an upmarket estate.
    The double garage-doors were open and Bill Tanner stood by the crimson Lancia already drawn back from the automatic doors. It took Bond less than a minute to change cars, reversing the Lancia out while Tanner nodded and drove the BMW into the garage. No other cars came near and Bond crammed an unlikely fishing hat on his head, and slipped dark glasses over his eyes. No words were exchanged, but, as he turned the Lancia back towards the main road, Bond saw the garage-door coming down to hide his own car.
    An hour later he had negotiated the M5 Motorway, and taken the M4
    fork which led him towards London. It took about fifty minutes for him to reach the Windsor exit, after which he circled the smaller roads, still watching for a possible tail. It was a lengthy, painstaking business so he did not reach his destination until after eleven, purring across the Windsor-Bagshot road and looking out for the Squirrel public house on his left, then the gateway of simple stone on the right.
    He turned the Lancia through the gateway to see the familiar, well-manicured drive, the screen of silver birch, beech, pine and oak trees which stood guard over the rectangular Regency manor house of weathered Bath stone.
    He pulled the Lancia around the side of the main house, parking so that it would also be screened by the trees