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are typical of such an office in this part of Paris； and dark green metal filing cabinets in which drawers stand open。 If you were observant of small details； you might register that all the men were of approximately the same age group； between thirty and forty； and that in an office where you would have expected to find women doing the secretarial work； there were none。
Inside the tall door you would receive the slightly defensive wele appropriate to a busy organization accustomed to the usual proportion of cranks and time…wasters but； in response to your serious inquiry； the face of the man at the desk near the door would clear and bee cautiously helpful。 The aims of the Fraternity？ We exist； monsieur； to keep alive the ideals that flourished during the last war among members of all Resistance groups。 No； monsieur； we are entirely unpolitical。 Our funds？ They e from modest subscriptions from our members and from certain private persons who share our aims。 You have perhaps a relative； a member of a Resistance group； whose whereabouts you seek？ Certainly； monsieur。 The name？ Gregor Karlski； last heard of with Mihailovitch in the summer of 1943。 Jules！ （He might turn to a particular man and call out。） Karlski； Gregor。 Mihailovitch； 1943。 Jules would go to a cabinet and there would be a brief pause。 Then the reply might e back； Dead。 Killed in the bombing of the General's headquarters； October 21st； 1943。 I regret； monsieur。 Is there anything further we can do for you？ Then perhaps you would care to have some of our literature。 Forgive me for not having time to spare to give you more details of FIRCO myself。 But you will find everything there。 This happens to be a particularly busy day。 This is the International Refugee Year and we have many inquiries such as yours from all over the world。 Good afternoon； monsieur。 Pas de quoi 。 So； or more or less so； it would be and you would go out on to the Boulevard satisfied and even impressed with an organization that was doing its excellent if rather vague work with 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。