if.thunderball-第9部分

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　so　much　dedication　and　efficiency。
　
　On　the　day　after　James　Bond　had　pleted　his　nature　cure　and　had　left　for　London　after；　the　night　before；　scoring　a　most　satisfactory　left　and　right　of　Spaghetti　Bolognese　and　Chianti　at　Lucien's　in　Brighton　and　of　Miss　Patricia　Fearing　on　the　squab　seats　from　her　bubble　car　high　up　on　the　Downs；　an　emergency　meeting　of　the　trustees　of　FIRCO　was　called　for　seven　o'clock　in　the　evening。　The　men；　for　they　were　all　men；　came　from　all　over　Europe；　by　train　or　car　or　airplane；　and　they　entered　No。　136　bis　singly　or　in　pairs；　some　by　the　front　door　and　some　by　the　back；　at　intervals　during　the　late　afternoon　and　evening。　Each　man　had　his　allotted　time　for　arriving　at　these　meetings…so　many　minutes；　up　to　two　hours；　before　zero　hour…and　each　man　alternated　between　the　back　and　the　front　door　from　meeting　to　meeting。　Now　there　were　two　〃concierges〃　for　each　door　and　other　less　obvious　security　measures…warning　systems；　closed…circuit　television　scanning　of　the　two　entrances；　and　plete　sets　of　dummy　FIRCO　minutes；　backed　up　one　hundred　per　cent　by　the　current　business　of　the　FIRCO　organization　on　the　ground　floor。　Thus；　if　necessary；　the　deliberations　of　the　〃trustees〃　could；　in　a　matter　only　of　seconds；　be　switched　from　clandestine　to　overt…as　solidly　overt　as　any　meeting　of　principals　in　the　Boulevard　Haussmann　could　possibly　be。
　
　At　seven　o'clock　precisely　the　twenty　men　who　made　up　this　organization　strode；　lounged；　or　sidled；　each　according　to　his　character；　into　the　workmanlike　board　room　on　the　third　floor。　Their　chairman　was　already　in　his　seat。　No　greetings　were　exchanged。　They　were　ruled　by　the　chairman　to　be　a　waste　of　breath　and；　in　an　organization　of　this　nature；　hypocritical。　The　men　filed　round　the　table　and　took　their　places　at　their　numbers；　the　numbers　from　one　to　twenty…one　that　were　their　only　names　and　that；　as　a　small　security　precaution；　advanced　round　the　rota　by　two　digits　at　midnight　on　the　first　of　every　month。　Nobody　smoked…drinking　was　taboo　and　smoking　frowned　upon…　and　nobody　bothered　to　glance　down　at　the　bogus　FIRCO　agenda　on　the　table　in　front　of　him。　They　sat　very　still　and　looked　up　the　table　at　the　chairman　with　expressions　of　the　sharpest　interest　and　what；　in　lesser　men；　would　have　been　obsequious　respect。
　
　Any　man　seeing　No。　2；　for　that　was　the　chairman's　number　of　the　month；　even　for　the　first　time　would　have　looked　at　him　with　some　degree　of　the　same　feelings；　for　he　was　one　of　those　men…one　meets　perhaps　only　two　or　three　in　a　lifetime…who　seem　almost　to　suck　the　eyes　out　of　your　head。　These　rare　men　are　apt　to　possess　three　basic　attributes…their　physical　appearance　is　extraordinary；　they　have　a　quality　of　relaxation；　of　inner　certainty；　and　they　exude　a　powerful　animal　magnetism。　The　herd　has　always　recognized　the　other…worldliness　of　these　phenomena；　and　in　primitive　tribes　you　will　find　that　any　man　singled　out　by　nature　in　this　fashion　will　also　have　been　chosen　by　the　tribe　to　be　their　chief。　Certain　great　men　of　history；　perhaps　Genghis　Khan；　Alexander　the　Great；　Napoleon；　among　the　politicians；　have　had　these　qualities。　Perhaps　they　even　explain　the　hypnotic　sway　of　an　altogether　more　meager　individual；　the　otherwise　inexplicable　Adolf　Hitler；　over　eighty　million　of　the　most　gifted　nation　in　Europe。　Certainly；　No。　2　had　these　qualities　and　any　man　in　the　street　would　have　recognized　them…let　alone　these　twenty　chosen　men。　For　them；　despite　the　deep　cynicism　ingrained　in　their　respective　callings；　despite　their　basic　insensitivity　toward　the　human　race；　he　was；　however　reluctantly；　their　Supreme　mander…almost　their　god。
　
　This　man's　name　was　Ernst　Stavro　Blofeld　and　he　was　born　in　Gdynia　of　a　Polish　father　and　a　Greek　mother　on　May　28th；　1908。　After　matriculating　in　economics　and　political　history　at　the　University　of　Warsaw　he　studied　engineering　and　radionics　at　the　Warsaw　Technical　Institute　and　at　the　age　of　twenty…five　obtained　a　modest　post　in　the　central　administration　of　the　Ministry　of　Posts　and　Telegraphs。　This　would　seem　a　curious　choice　for　such　a　highly　gifted　youth；　but　Blofeld　had　e　to　an　interesting　conclusion　about　the　future　of　the　World。　He　had　decided　that　fast　and　accurate　munication　lay；　in　a　contracting　world；　at　the　very　heart　of　power。　Knowledge　of　the　truth　before　the　next　man；　in　peace　or　war；　lay；　he　thought；　behind　every　correct　decision　in　history　and　was　the　source　of　all　great　reputations。　He　was　doing　very　well　on　this　theory；　watching　the　cables　and　radiograms　that　passed　through　his　hands　at　the　Central　Post　Office　and　buying　or　selling　on　margin　on　the　Warsaw　Bourse…only　occasionally；　when　he　was　absolutely　certain；　but　then　very　big…when　the　basic　nature　of　the　postal　traffic　changed。　Now　Poland　was　mobilizing　for　war　and　a　spate　of　munition　orders　and　diplomatic　cables　poured　through　his　department。　Blofeld　changed　his　tactics。　This　was　valuable　stuff；　worth　nothing　to　him；　but　priceless　to　the　enemy。　Clumsily　at　first；　and　then　more　expertly；　he　contrived　to　take　copies　of　cables；　choosing；　for　the　ciphers　hid　their　contents　from　him；　only　those　prefixed　〃MOST　IMMEDIATE〃　or　〃MOST　SECRET。〃　Then；　working　carefully；　he　built　up　in　his　head　a　network　of　fictitious　agents。　These　were　real　but　small　people　in　the　various　embassies　and　armament　firms　to　whom　most　of　the　traffic　was　addressed…a　junior　cipher　clerk　in　the　British　Embassy；　a　translator　working　for　the　French；　private　secretaries…real　ones…in　the　big　firms。　These　names　were　easily　obtained　from　the　diplomatic　lists；　by　ringing　up　a　firm　and　asking　Inquiries　for　the　name　of　the　chairman's　private　secretary。　He　was　speaking　for　the　Red　Cross。　They　wished　to　discuss　the　possibility　of　a　donation　from　the　chairman。　And　so　on。　When　Blofeld　had　all　his　names　right；　he　christened　his　network　TARTAR　and　made　a　discreet　approach　to　the　German　Military　Attache　with　one　or　two　specimens　of　its　work。　He　was　rapidly　passed　on　to　the　representative　of　AMT　IV　of　the　Abwehr；　and　from　then　on　things　were　easy。　When　this　pot　was　bubbling　merrily；　and　the　money　（he　refused　to　accept　payment　except　in　American　dollars）　ing　in　（it　came　in　fast；　he　explained　that　he　had　so　many　agents　to　pay　off）；　he　proceeded　to　widen　his　market。　He　considered　the　Russians　but　dismissed　them；　and　the　Czechs；　as　probable　non…；　or　at　any　rate　slow…；　payers。　Instead　he　chose　the　Americans　and　the　Swedes；　and　money　positively　showered　in　on　him。　He　soon　realized；　for　he　was　a　man　of　almost　mimosaic　sensibility　in　matters　of　security；　that　the　pace　could　not　possibly　last。　There　would　be　a　leak：　perhaps　between　the　Swedish　and　German　secret　services；　who　he　knew　（for　through　his　contacts　with　their　spies　he　was　picking　up　the　gossip　of　his　new　trade）　were　working　closely　together　in　some　territories；　or　through　Allied　counter…espionage　or　their　cryptographic　services；　or　else　one　of　his　notional　agents　would　die　or　be　transferred　without　his　knowledge　while　he　continued　to　use　the　name　as　a　source。　Anyway；　by　now　he　had　200；000　and　there　was　the　added　spur　that　the　war　was　getting　too　close　for　fort。　It　was　time　for　him　to　be　off　into　the　wide　world…into　one　of　the　safe　bits　of　it。　Blofeld　carried　out　his　withdrawal　expertly。　First　he　slowly　petered　off　the　service。　Security；　he　explained；　was　being　tightened　up　by　the　English　and　the　French。　Perhaps　there　had　been　a　leak…he　looked　with　mild　reproof　into　the　eyes　of　his　contact…this　secretary　had　had　a　change　of　heart；　that　one　was　asking　too　much　money。　Then　he　went　to　his　friend　on　the　Bourse　and；　after　sealing　his　lips　with　a　thousand　dollars；　had　all　his　funds　invested　in　Shell　Bearer　Bonds　in　Amsterdam　and　thence　transferred　to　a　Numbered　Safe　Deposit　box　with　the　Diskonto　Bank　in　Zurich。　Before　the　final　step　of　telling　his　contacts　that　he　was　brulé　and　that　the　Polish　Deuxième　Bureau　was　sniffing　at　his　heels；　he　paid　a　visit　to　Gdynia；　called　on　the　registrar　and　on　the　church　where　he　had　been　baptized　and；　on　the　pretext　of　looking　up　details　of　an　invented　friend；　neatly　cut　out　the　page　recording　his　own　name　and　birth。　It　remained　only　to　locate　the　passport　factory　that　operates　in　every　big　seaport　and　purchase　a　Canadian　seaman's　passport　for　2；000。　Then　he　was　off　to　Sweden　by　the　next　boat。　After　a　pause　in　Stockholm　for　a　careful　look　round　the　world　and　some　cool　thinking　about　the　probable　course　of　the　war；　he　flew　to　Turkey　on　his　original　Polish　passport；　transferred　his　money　from　Switzerland　to　the　Ottoman　Bank　in　Istanbul；　and　waited　for　Poland　to　fall。　When；　in　due　course；　this　happened；　he　claimed　refuge　in　Turkey　and　spent　a　little　money　among　the　right　officials　in　order　to　get　his　claim　established。　Then　he　settled　down。　Ankara　Radio　was　glad　to　have　his　expert　services　and　he　set　up　RAHIR；　another　espionage　service　built　on　the　lines　of　TARTAR；　but　rather　more　solidly。　Blofeld　wisely　waited　to　ascertain　the　victor　before　selling　his　wares；　and　it　was　only　when　Rommel　had　been　kicked　out　of　Africa　that　he　plumped　for　the　Allies。　He　finished　the　war　in　a　blaze　of　glory　and　prosperity　and　with　decorations　or　citations　from　the　British；　Americans；　and　French。　Then；　with　half　a　million　dollars　in　Swiss　bank