Carte Blanche Read Online Free PDF Page B

foreign espionage. Six was the oldest continuously operating spy organization in the world, despite China’s claim to the contrary.
    The Admiral said, “What’s the one element that stands out about them both?”
    Bond couldn’t begin to guess.
    “Plausible deniability,” the older man muttered. “Both Five and Six were created as cutouts so that the Crown, the prime minister, the Cabinet and the War Office didn’t have to get their hands dirty with that nasty business of spying. Just as bad now. Lot of scrutiny of what Five and Six do. Sexed-up dossiers, invasion of privacy, political snooping, rumors of illegal targeted killings . . . Everybody’s clamoring for transparency . Of course, no one seems to care that the face of war is changing, that the other side doesn’t play by the rules much anymore.” Another sip of wine. “There’s thinking, in some circles, that we need to play by a different set of rules too. Especially after Nine-eleven and Seven-seven.”
    Bond said, “So, if I understand correctly, you’re talking about starting a new version of the SOE but one that isn’t technically part of Six, Five or the MoD.”
    The Admiral held Bond’s eye. “I read those reports of your performance in Afghanistan—Royal Naval Reserve, yet still you managed to get yourself attached to forward combat units on the ground. Took some doing.” The cool eyes regarded him closely. “I understand you also managed some missions behind the lines that weren’t quite so official. Thanks to you, some fellows who could have caused quite a lot of mischief never got the chance.”
    Bond was about to sip from his glass of Puligny Montrachet, the highest incarnation of the chardonnay grape. He set the glass down without doing so. How the devil had the old man learned about those ?
    In a low, even voice the man said, “There’s no shortage of Special Air or Boat Service chaps about who know their way around a knife and sniper rifle. But they don’t necessarily fit into other, shall we say, subtler situations. And then there are plenty of talented Five and Six fellows who know the difference between”—he glanced at Bond’s glass—“a Côte de Beaune and a Côte de Nuits and can speak French as fluently as they can Arabic—but who’d faint at the sight of blood, theirs or anyone else’s.” The steel eyes zeroed in. “You seem to be a rather rare combination of the best of both.”
    The Admiral put down his knife and fork on the bone china. “Your question.”
    “My . . . ?”
    “About a new version of the Special Operations Executive. The answer is yes. In fact, it already exists. Would you be interested in joining?”
    “I would,” Bond said without hesitation. “Though I should like to ask: What exactly does it do?”
    The Admiral thought for a moment, as if polishing burrs off his reply. “Our mission,” he said, “is simple. We protect the Realm . . . by any means necessary.”

Chapter 7
    In the sleek, purring Bentley, Bond now approached the headquarters of this very organization, near Regent’s Park, after half an hour of the zigzagging that driving in central London necessitates.
    The name of his employer was nearly as vague as that of the Special Operations Executive: the Overseas Development Group. The director-general was the Admiral, known only as M.
    Officially the ODG assisted British-based companies in opening or expanding foreign operations and investing abroad. Bond’s OC, or official cover, within it was as a security and integrity analyst. His job was to travel the world and assess business risks.
    No matter that the moment he landed he assumed an NOC—a nonofficial cover—with a fictitious identity, tucked away the Excel spreadsheets, put on his 5.11 tactical outfit and armed himself with a .308 rifle with Nikon Buckmasters scope. Or perhaps he’d slip into a well-cut Savile Row suit to play poker with a Chechnyan arms dealer in a private Kiev club, for the chance to assess