a halt.
`I hate to do this to you, Fredericka, but I need some ID. A man can't be too careful these days." Once more the silver dust of her laugh spread around them. `Okay, James. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours.
`Chance would be a fine thing." He flipped open his wallet to reveal his service ID, beneath its little laminated shield, and Fredericka reached into a large leather shoulder bag, producing her own card. As she returned it, he caught a glimpse of an automatic pistol, snug in a holster built into the bag. He had been denied carrying a weapon into the country, and suddenly felt naked and vulnerable.
Within ten minutes, they were settled into her three-year-old white Porsche, which was in need of a wash, and heading out of Berne on route six, following the river Aare to Thun, the lovely old town which always reminded Bond of the Frankenstein story. If you stand in the small Town Hall Square the Rathausplatz in Thun, and look up beyond the Rathaus itself, you can see the great castle looming above you, and the whole view is reminiscent of every Frankenstein movie ever made.
She drove fast, but with. experienced skill, her shoes kicked off, stockinged feet dancing on the pedals, and her long, slim arm moving almost lazily over the gear shift. From the moment they left the airport parking area, she made it clear that they would not talk business.
`We're supposed to be an item,' she said, glancing at him, a delightful smile glowing from mouth and eyes. `That's what my people have decreed, and who am I to disobey them?" `Who indeed?" Bond clutched at the corner of his seat as she negotiated a long bend just a fraction too fast for his liking, but hanging into the turn, not allowing the car to drift. `By item, you mean lovers, I presume?" `Correct. We're to stay where she stayed, and my papers show that I've just flown in from London with you. You're a relative, aren't you?" `Distant cousin. Was that your people's idea?" `A joint decision with your Chief. Now, I'll tell you the rest over dinner. Oh, and don't worry, I won't hold you to the entire details of our cover." `Why a cover at all?" `Later. Over dinner, I'll tell you.
Silence for half a kilometer, then, `You speak exceptional English." Too late he realized how trite that sounded, and heard her laugh again.
`And we have been getting such good weather this August, yes?" She changed up as they reached a straight stretch of road, piling on a little speed. `I ought to speak good English, my mother came from Hastings, where your kIng Harold was taken by William the Conqueror." `I know the story. Harold got an arrow in his retina." `You know what one of the Norman archers said? "That's one in the eye for Harold."' Again, the laugh. `My father was Swiss, but I got my degree at Cambridge." `What in, history?" `Modern languages. Why would you think...?" `History? Your exceptional grasp of the Battle of Hastings.
`Oh, I have an exceptional grasp of many things, James." `I'd bet on it. You weren't up at Cambridge with the deceased by any chance?" `Later, James. I'll tell you everything later." In less than an hour they were in Thun. They parked, then walked across to the old Falcon, an hotel in which Bond had spent many happy days years before. Less than fifteen minutes later they were seated in the restaurant, being fussed over and looking forward to dinner, for the Falcon has a reputation for good food.
For the first time since their meeting at the airport, Bond now had a real opportunity to study more than Fredericka von Grusse's body.
The laughing green eyes and Curly Simon mouth were her best assets, for, while her skin was clear and flawless, the rest of her face was long, her nose slightly crooked and her jaw a shade square.
Not beautiful by any standard, but interesting, replete with character.
She gazed contentedly at him across the table, making him aware that the eyes and mouth contained more than simply surface humour.
`So, Fredericka. You're
`I hate to do this to you, Fredericka, but I need some ID. A man can't be too careful these days." Once more the silver dust of her laugh spread around them. `Okay, James. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours.
`Chance would be a fine thing." He flipped open his wallet to reveal his service ID, beneath its little laminated shield, and Fredericka reached into a large leather shoulder bag, producing her own card. As she returned it, he caught a glimpse of an automatic pistol, snug in a holster built into the bag. He had been denied carrying a weapon into the country, and suddenly felt naked and vulnerable.
Within ten minutes, they were settled into her three-year-old white Porsche, which was in need of a wash, and heading out of Berne on route six, following the river Aare to Thun, the lovely old town which always reminded Bond of the Frankenstein story. If you stand in the small Town Hall Square the Rathausplatz in Thun, and look up beyond the Rathaus itself, you can see the great castle looming above you, and the whole view is reminiscent of every Frankenstein movie ever made.
She drove fast, but with. experienced skill, her shoes kicked off, stockinged feet dancing on the pedals, and her long, slim arm moving almost lazily over the gear shift. From the moment they left the airport parking area, she made it clear that they would not talk business.
`We're supposed to be an item,' she said, glancing at him, a delightful smile glowing from mouth and eyes. `That's what my people have decreed, and who am I to disobey them?" `Who indeed?" Bond clutched at the corner of his seat as she negotiated a long bend just a fraction too fast for his liking, but hanging into the turn, not allowing the car to drift. `By item, you mean lovers, I presume?" `Correct. We're to stay where she stayed, and my papers show that I've just flown in from London with you. You're a relative, aren't you?" `Distant cousin. Was that your people's idea?" `A joint decision with your Chief. Now, I'll tell you the rest over dinner. Oh, and don't worry, I won't hold you to the entire details of our cover." `Why a cover at all?" `Later. Over dinner, I'll tell you.
Silence for half a kilometer, then, `You speak exceptional English." Too late he realized how trite that sounded, and heard her laugh again.
`And we have been getting such good weather this August, yes?" She changed up as they reached a straight stretch of road, piling on a little speed. `I ought to speak good English, my mother came from Hastings, where your kIng Harold was taken by William the Conqueror." `I know the story. Harold got an arrow in his retina." `You know what one of the Norman archers said? "That's one in the eye for Harold."' Again, the laugh. `My father was Swiss, but I got my degree at Cambridge." `What in, history?" `Modern languages. Why would you think...?" `History? Your exceptional grasp of the Battle of Hastings.
`Oh, I have an exceptional grasp of many things, James." `I'd bet on it. You weren't up at Cambridge with the deceased by any chance?" `Later, James. I'll tell you everything later." In less than an hour they were in Thun. They parked, then walked across to the old Falcon, an hotel in which Bond had spent many happy days years before. Less than fifteen minutes later they were seated in the restaurant, being fussed over and looking forward to dinner, for the Falcon has a reputation for good food.
For the first time since their meeting at the airport, Bond now had a real opportunity to study more than Fredericka von Grusse's body.
The laughing green eyes and Curly Simon mouth were her best assets, for, while her skin was clear and flawless, the rest of her face was long, her nose slightly crooked and her jaw a shade square.
Not beautiful by any standard, but interesting, replete with character.
She gazed contentedly at him across the table, making him aware that the eyes and mouth contained more than simply surface humour.
`So, Fredericka. You're
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