A week later, James Bond was sitting up in a chair, a towel round his waist, reading Allen Dulles' The Craft of Intelligence and cursing his fate. The hospital had worked miracles on him, the nurses were sweet, particularly the one he called The Mermaid, but he wanted to be off and away. He glanced at his watch. Four o'clock. Visiting tune. Mary Goodnight would soon be here, and he would be able to let off his pent-up steam on her. Unjust perhaps, but he had already tongue-lashed everyone in range in the hospital, and if she got into the field of fire, that was just too bad! Mary Goodnight came through the door. Despite the Jamaican heat, she was looking fresh as a rose. Damn her! She was carrying what looked like a typewriter. Bond recognized it as the Triple-X decyphering machine. Now what?
Bond grunted surly answers to her inquiries after his health. He said, "What in hell's that for?"
"It's an Eyes Only. Personal from M.," she said excitedly. "About thirty groups."
"Thirty groups! Doesn't the old bastard know I've only got one arm that's working? Come on, Mary. You get cracking. If it sounds really hot, I'll take over."
Mary Goodnight looked shocked. Eyes Only was a top-sacred prefix. But Bond's jaw was jutting out dangerously. Today was not a day for argument. She sat on the edge of the bed, opened the machine, and took a cable form out of her bag. She laid her shorthand book beside the machine, scratched the back of her head with her pencil to help work out the setting for the day-a complicated sum involving the date and the hour of dispatch of the cable-adjusted the setting on the central cylinder and began crank-hag the handle. After each completed word had appeared in the little oblong window at the base of the machine, she recorded it in her book.
James Bond watched her expression. She was pleased. After a few minutes she read out:
"M PERSONAL FOR OHOHSEVEN EYES ONLY STOP YOUR REPORT AND DITTO FROM TOP FRIENDS [a euphemism for the C.I.A.] RECEIVED STOP YOU HAVE DONE WELL AND EXECUTED AYE DIFFICULT AND HAZARDOUS OPERATION TO MY ENTIRE REPEAT ENTIRE SATISFACTION STOP TRUST YOUR HEALTH UNIMPAIRED [Bond gave an angry snort] STOP WHEN WILL YOU BE REPORTING FOR FURTHER DUTY QUERY."
Mary Goodnight smiled delightedly. "I've never seen him be so complimentary! Have you, James? That repeat of entire! It's tremendous!" She looked hopefully for a lifting of the black clouds from Bond's face.
In fact, Bond was secretly delighted. He knew what Mary couldn't know-that M. was telling him that he had won his spurs back. But he certainly wasn't going to show his pleasure to Mary Goodnight. Today she was one of the wardresses confining him, tying him down. He said grudgingly, "Not bad for the old man. But all he wants is to get me back to that bloody desk. Anyway, it's a lot of jazz so far. What comes next?" He turned the pages of his book, pretending as the little machine whirred and clicked not to be interested.
"Oh, James!" Mary Goodnight exploded with excitement. "Wait! I'm almost finished. It's tremendous!"
"I know," commented Bond sourly. "Free luncheon vouchers every second Friday. Key to M.'s personal lavatory. New suit to replace the one that's somehow got full of holes." But he kept his eyes fixed on the flitting fingers, infected by Mary Goodnight's excitement. What in hell was she getting so steamed up about? And all on his behalf! He examined her with approval. Perched there, immaculate in her white tussore shirt and tight beige skirt, one neat foot curled round the other in concentration, the golden face under the shortish fair hair incandescent with pleasure, she was, thought Bond, a girl to have around always. As a secretary? As what? Mary Goodnight turned, her eyes shining, and the question went, as it had gone for weeks, without an answer.
"Now, just listen to this, James." She shook the notebook at him. "And for heaven's sake, stop looking so curmudgeonly."
Bond smiled at the word. "All right, Mary. Go ahead. Empty the Christmas stocking on the floor. Hope it's not going to bust any stitches." He put his book down on his lap.
Mary Goodnight's face became portentous. She said seriously, "Just listen to this!" She read very carefully:
"IN VIEW OF THE OUTSTANDING NATURE OF THE SERVICES REFERRED TO ABOVE AND THEIR ASSISTANCE TO THE ALLIED CAUSE COMMA WHICH IS PERHAPS MORE SIGNIFICANT THAN YOU IMAGINE COMMA THE PRIME MINISTER PROPOSES TO RECOMMEND TO HER MAJESTY QUEEN ELIZABETH THE IMMEDIATE GRANT OF A KNIGHTHOOD STOP THIS TO TAKE THE FORM OF THE ADDITION OF A KATIE AS PREFIX TO YOUR CHARLIE MICHAEL GEORGE."
James Bond uttered a defensive, embarrassed laugh.
"Good old cypherines. They wouldn't think of just putting K C M G -Much too easy! Go ahead, Mary. This is good!"
"IT IS COMMON PRACTICE TO INQUIRE OF PROPOSED RECIPIENT WHETHER HE ACCEPTS THIS HIGH HONOUR BEFORE HER MAJESTY PUTS HER SEAL UPON IT STOP WRITTEN LETTER SHOULD FOLLOW YOUR CABLED CONFIRMATION OF ACCEPTANCE PARAGRAPH THIS AWARD NATURALLY HAS MY SUPPORT AND ENTIRE APPROVAL AND EYE SEND YOU MY PERSONAL CONGRATULATIONS ENDIT MAILED-FIST."
James Bond again hid himself behind the throwaway line. "Why in hell does he always have to sign himself Mailed-fist for M.? There's a perfectly good English word. Em. It's a measure used by printers. But of course it's not dashing enough for the Chief. He's a romantic at heart like all the silly bastards who get mixed up with the Service."
Mary Goodnight lowered her eyelashes. She knew that Bond's reflex concealed his pleasure-a pleasure he wouldn't for the life of him have displayed. Who wouldn't be pleased, proud? She put on a businesslike expression. "Well, would you like me to draft something for you to send? I can be back with it at six, and I know they'll let me in. I can check up the right sort of formula with the High Commissioner's staff. I know it begins with 'I present my humble duty to Her Majesty" I've had to help with the Jamaica honours at New Year and her birthday. Everyone seems to want to know the form."
James Bond ............