The James Bond Anthology

‘The car’s outside. You remember Strangways? Well it’s his old Sunbeam Alpine. The Station bought it and now I use it. The tank’s full and it goes like a bird. The top man at Frome is a man called Tony Hugill. Ex-navy. Nice man. Nice wife. Nice children. Does a good job. Has a lot of trouble with cane burning and other small sabotage – mostly with thermite bombs brought in from Cuba. Cuba’s sugar crop is Jamaica’s chief rival and with Hurricane Flora and all the rains they’ve been having over there, the Cuban crop is going to be only about three million tons this year, compared with a Batista level of about seven, and very late, because the rains have played havoc with the sucrose content.’ She smiled her wide smile. ‘No secrets. Just reading the Gleaner. So it’s worth Castro’s trouble to try and keep the world price up by doing as much damage as he can to rival crops so that he’s in a better position to bargain with Russia. He’s only got his sugar to sell and he wants food badly. This wheat the Americans are selling to Russia. A lot of that will find its way back to Cuba, in exchange for sugar, to feed the Cuban sugar croppers.’ She smiled again. ‘Pretty daft business, isn’t it? I don’t think Castro can hold out much longer. The missile business in Cuba must have cost Russia about a billion pounds. And now they’re having to pour money into Cuba, money and goods, to keep the place on its feet. I can’t help thinking they’ll pull out soon and leave Castro to go the way Batista went. It’s a fiercely Catholic country and Hurricane Flora was considered as the final judgment from heaven. It sat over the island and simply whipped it, day after day, for five days. No hurricane in history has ever behaved like that. The churchgoers don’t miss an omen like that. It was a straight indictment of the regime.’

Bond said with admiration, ‘Goodnight, you’re a treasure. You’ve certainly been doing your homework.’

The direct blue eyes looked straight into his, dodging the compliment. ‘This is the stuff I live with here. It’s built into the Station. But I thought you might like some background to Frome and what I’ve said explains why WISCO are getting these cane fires. At least we think it is. Apparently there’s a tremendous chess game going on all over the world in sugar – in what they call sugar futures, that’s sort of buying the stuff forward for delivery dates later in the year. Washington’s trying to keep the price down, to upset Cuba’s economy, but there’s increased world consumption and a shortage largely due to Flora and the tremendous rains we’ve been having here after Flora which have delayed the Jamaican crop. I don’t understand it all, but it’s in Cuba’s interest to do as much damage as possible to the Jamaican crop and this place Frome you’re interested in produces about a quarter of Jamaica’s total output.’ She took a sip at her drink. ‘Well, that’s all about sugar. The top man there is this man Hugill. We’ve had a lot to do with him, so he’ll be friendly. He was in Naval Intelligence during the war, sort of commando job, so he knows the score. The car’s a bit aged but it’s still pretty fast and it won’t let you down. It’s rather bashed about so it won’t be conspicuous. I’ve put the survey map in the glove compartment.’

‘That’s fine. Now, last question and then we’ll go and have dinner and tell each other our life stories. But, by the way, what’s happened to your chief, Ross?’

Mary Goodnight looked worried. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t exactly know. He went off last week on some job to Trinidad. It was to try and locate a man called Scaramanga. He’s a local gunman of some sort. I don’t know much about him. Apparently Headquarters want him traced for some reason.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Nobody ever tells me anything that’s interesting. I just do the donkey work. Well, Commander Ross was due back two days ago and he hasn’t turned up. I’ve had to send off a Red Warning, but I’ve been told to give him another week.’

‘Well, I’m glad he’s out of the way. I’d rather have his Number Two. Last question. What about this 3½ Love Lane? Did you get anywhere?’

Mary Goodnight blushed. ‘Did I not! That was a fine question to get me mixed up with. Alexander’s were non-committal and I finally had to go to the Special Branch. I shan’t be able to show my face there for weeks. Heaven knows what they must think of you. That place is a, is a, er –’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s a famous disorderly house in Sav’ La Mar.’

Bond laughed out loud at her discomfiture. He teased her with malicious but gentle sadism. ‘You mean it’s a whorehouse?’

‘James! For heaven’s sake! Must you be so crude?’

5 | NO. 3½ LOVE LANE

The south coast of Jamaica is not as beautiful as the north, and it is a long 120-mile hack over very mixed road surfaces from Kingston to Savannah La Mar. Mary Goodnight had insisted on coming along, ‘to navigate and help with the punctures’. Bond had not demurred.