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lopes of the Schwarz Monch； the toy houses of Grindelwald far below； the contrast in colour； greens； yellows； the seasoned blackish green of the pine trees； and the wonderful skyline of the Jungfrau； just visible off to her far right； the awesome Gletscherschlucht； the glacier itself； and the crowning glory in the distance…the summit of the Eiger。
The mountains； she thought； were like scale models made from cleverly folded grey paper； brushed at their peaks with white powder。
David loved it here； but that was over and done with。
This was a time of healing for her battered emotions。 No more David； for that was finished and she had to resurrect herself from the small death which had e only a short time ago。
As she feasted on the view； it was as if； by some trick of time and light； she were being mentally enfolded by crags； peaks； fissures。
Her father had been right； the grandeur and beauty of the view helped to put her own small concerns and pain as a human into perspective。 It seemed as though this spot could magically sweep her small anguish into its proper place。 The awesome wonder of the vast range of mountains was already doing its work。
When she felt the unexpected stab of pain in her neck； she thought； almost lazily； that she had been stung by a bee。 She tried to put her hand up to trap the insect； and was puzzled when she could not get her arm above shoulder height。
She did not panic。 It was as if she viewed her strange situation from very far away。 The numbness seemed to spread from where she had been stung on the neck。 First； her arms became immobile； then she experienced a not unpleasant sense of her entire body being invaded so that she could not move at all。
This is a dream。 I shall wake in a moment； she thought； trying unsuccessfully to smile； for there was her dead father waving； running up the flower…dotted slope towards her。 Then the darkness smothered everything。
The people who ran the small restaurant found her body just before dusk。
*
*
*
The next morning； James Bond was finishing his last cup of breakfast coffee； and contemplating a lazy weekend which included dinner that night with a young woman called Charlotte Helpful when the telephone rang； banishing all plans for the next few weeks； let alone fun and games with the pleasantly named His Helpful。
‘Before we begin； Captain Bond； I'd like you to take a look at this photograph。〃 M slid a matt eight by ten； black and white print across his desk。 His mood had been sombre from the moment Bond had entered the room。
It had been Moneypenny； the Chief's secretary； who summoned Bond to the suite of offices occupied by M and his personal staff； on the ninth floor of the anonymous building overlooking Regent's Park。
‘You're to go straight in； take no notice of that。
She had nodded towards the door above which the familiar red ‘Do Not Enter' light flashed。 As Bond took a pace forward； Moneypenny dropped her voice。 ‘He's got a pair of our sisters in there。〃 She gave him a quick little smile； before looking away； a fierce blush scalding her cheeks。 The torch she carried for James Bond was no secret to anyone in the building。
The ‘sisters' were a man and woman from the Security Service； MIS； introduced to Bond as Mr Grant and His Chantry a portly man； dressed in the dark…suited Whitehall uniform； and a rather frumpish young woman； sitting to attention； inflexible； with her backside perched on the edge of her chair。 Both of these officers looked unfortable； for members of the Security Service are seldom at ease when circumstances force them to ask favours of the Secret Intelligence Service。 There was little doubt in Bond's mind that they were here to crave a boon from M。
He glanced at the photograph of a young woman； possibly in her early thirties； with light blonde hair； and a pixyish； pleasant face。
‘Should I recognize her； sir？〃 Bond raised his eyebrows in query。
‘Only you can answer that； Captain Bond。〃 M remained unsmiling。
‘I am aware that there are occasional cross…fertilizations between our service and our sisters。〃 ‘She's one of yours？〃 Bond addressed His Chantry。
‘Was one of ours。〃 Impatient； but somehow full of suspicion。
He thought he could also detect a tiny fleeting stab of pain in her voice； and saw it pass across her face； there one minute； gone the next。 He turned back to his Chief。 ‘No； sir。 No； I don't recognize the young lady。〃 M nodded； ；then looked across at Grant。 ‘Tell him what you ve just told me。〃 His tone was not unfriendly； but nobody could doubt that the Old Man was in one of his tough； all business moods。
Grant； in his mid…forties； had a prissy mouth and a tendency to be fussy； his hands constantly straightening his tie； or brushing imaginary lint from his trousers。 Bond put him down as a desk man personnel； or accounts。
After clearing his throat a couple of times； and fiddling with his cufflinks； Grant began tentatively。
‘Her name is Laura March。 Age thirty…five； been with our service for ten years。 Worked five years with the Watcher Division； then moved on to Anti…terrorist Intelligence。 Mainly analysis of raw information。
Very good record。 Knew her stuff。
For a second he paused； as if treading on uncertain ground。
‘And？〃 Bond gave him an encouraging smile。
‘She's disappeared with the family jewels？〃 ‘She's dead。〃 It came out flat and uneasy。
Murdered； it would seem。〃 M filled the gap。
‘In Switzerland；' His Chantry supplied。 ‘She was on leave。〃 ‘Ah。〃 The truth was out； Bond thought。 MIS's jurisdiction was effective only in the United KIngdom and its dependencies； a situation which often led to ill…feeling between the two organizations。
Grant sounded a shade petulant now。 ‘That's why we need your help。 She was staying in Interlaken Switzerland。 。 …‘ ‘I know where Interlaken is。〃 This time； Bond was neither encouraging nor smiling。
‘Switzerland。
Little place with lots of lakes and mountains。 Lots of banks and chocolates as well。〃 Grant frowned。 ‘You're Interlaken？〃 ‘I know it's a tourist centre for the Bernese Oberland。〃 Bond wanted to demagnetize the highly charged atmosphere； maybe even force a smile from this somewhat pompous man。 So he half sang； 〃Gazing down on the Jungfrau； from our secret chalet for two。〃 Kiss Ale Kate and all that。
‘The only way you can gaze down at the familiar with Jungfrau is from a helicopter or an aeroplane。
Grant looked puzzled。
‘That's the whole point；' Bond snorted。 ‘Cole Porter wrote that song as a satire on the stupidity of some operettas。。
‘Captain Bond；' M snapped。 ‘We do not require a lesson in musical edies。 This is a serious business。 Let Mr Grant give you the facts。
Bond； still a little irritated at having been called away from what was to have been a delightful weekend； and possibly two reckless nights with the nubile His Helpful； knew how far he could go with M； and his Chief's voice had now hit what he liked to think of as the Mutiny on the Bounty level。 He closed his mouth and nodded politely to Grant。
‘It's a beautiful part of the world；' Grant continued lamely。
‘And it appears that she was particularly fond of it。 She had been there for