Devil May Care

his desk before M despatched him on his ‘make-or-break’ sabbatical, after which he alone was to decide whether Bond would ever return to active duty. Without Loelia, office life had been drab indeed: a succession of mousymatrons had occupied the desk, relieved only for a couple of months by a delectable and super-efficient blonde called Holly Campbell, who had been swiftly promoted by M.
    Bond chucked the end of his cigarette moodily into the street and went back into the hotel. As he collected his key, the clerk gave him a message. It read simply: ‘Call Universal. Urgent.’
    He went out again and walked down to a telephone box. Universal … He was secretly pleased that after various experiments the Service had reverted to its old cover name. No other word had such curious power over him. There was a heavy echo and delay on the telephone line, then a long low hum – a sign that he was being diverted.
    At last, he heard the voice – distorted, distant but unmistakable – of the man he most respected in the world.
    ‘Bond?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘The party’s over.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘We need you back. Take the first flight tomorrow.’
    ‘Sir, I thought –’
    ‘One of our sales force is reporting exceptional activity.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘The Paris branch. Though imports from the Middle East are looking up as well.’
    ‘What about my sabbatical? It doesn’t end till –’
    ‘To hell with your sabbatical. We can talk about that in the office. Got that?’
    ‘Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    ‘Thank you. And bring some of those little chocolates in the blue and silver paper, will you?’

3. The Monkey’s Hand
    May, the Scottish ‘treasure’ who looked after Bond’s flat in Chelsea, was trying frantically to complete her house-warming preparations when she heard the cab from the airport drop him outside the front door in the quiet street.
    ‘Could you no’ have given me a wee bit more warning, Mr Bond?’ she said, as he let himself in and dropped his crocodile-skin suitcases in the hall. ‘The bed’s not been aired properly, we’ve none of your favourite marmalade in and the laddie come to do the cupboards in the spare room has left the most fearful mess.’
    ‘Sorry, May. Duty called. Rather late at night.’
    ‘Would you like me to make you some lunch?’
    ‘No, thanks. I’m just going to have a quick shower, then I must go into the office.’
    ‘Well, at least there’s some clean towels on the rail. I’ll have some coffee for when you’re out.’
    ‘Thanks. Black and strong, please.’
    ‘And some orange juice?’
    ‘Fresh oranges?’
    ‘Of course, Mr Bond.’
    ‘May, you’re a marvel. I’ll be ready in ten minutes. Please ring for the car to be brought round.’
    As he dressed after his shower, in clean shirt, navy worsted suit and knitted black tie, it felt almost like getting back into uniform, Bond thought. He had shaved beforeleaving the hotel in Rome at six that morning and had had a haircut only the week before. He might not be quite his old self, but at least he looked presentable.
    In the sitting room, he flicked through the worst of the accumulated mail and was able to shovel almost half of it straight into the wastepaper basket. He sipped May’s scalding black coffee and took a Balkan-Sobranie cigarette from the box on the coffee table.
    ‘Now then, May,’ he said, ‘tell me what’s been happening while I’ve been away.’
    May thought for a moment. ‘That elderly feller got back from sailing round the world all on his own.’
    ‘Chichester.’
    ‘Aye. That’s his name. Though don’t ask me what the point of it all was. And him a pensioner as well.’
    ‘I suppose men just feel the need to prove themselves,’ said Bond. ‘Even older men. What else?’
    ‘Those pop singers have been arrested for having drugs.’
    ‘The Beatles?’
    ‘No, the ones with the hair down to their shoulders who make such a racket. The Rolling Stones, is it?’
    ‘And what was the drug? Marijuana?’
    ‘It’s no use asking me, Mr Bond. It was drugs, that’s all I know.’
    ‘I see. There’s a lot of it about.’ Bond ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘When I’ve gone, will you call Morland’s and ask them to send another box of these as soon as possible. I may be travelling again before long.’
    ‘Travelling?’ said May. ‘I thought you were going to –’
    ‘So did I, May,’ said Bond. ‘So did I. Now, was that the car I heard