It was a large cool room smelling of cigar smoke. The Acting Governor, in a cream tussore suit and an inappropriate wing collar and spotted bow tie, was sitting at a broad mahogany desk on which there was nothing but the
Bond took the chair across the desk from the Governor and sat down. He said, ‘Good morning, sir,’ and waited. A friend at the Colonial Office had told him his reception would be frigid. ‘He’s nearly at retiring age. Only an interim appointment. We had to find an Acting Governor to take over at short notice when Sir Hugh Foot was promoted. Foot was a great success. This man’s not even trying to compete. He knows he’s only got the job for a few months while we find someone to replace Foot. This man’s been passed over for the Governor Generalship of Rhodesia. Now all he wants is to retire and get some directorships in the City. Last thing he wants is any trouble in Jamaica. He keeps on trying to close this Strangways case of yours. Won’t like you ferreting about.’
The Governor cleared his throat. He recognized that Bond wasn’t one of the servile ones. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Just to make my number, sir,’ said Bond equably. ‘I’m here on the Strangways case. I think you had a signal from the Secretary of State.’ This was a reminder that the people behind Bond were powerful people. Bond didn’t like attempts to squash him or his Service.
‘I recall the signal. And what can I do for you? So far as we’re concerned here the case is closed.’
‘In what way “closed”, sir?’
The Governor said roughly, ‘Strangways obviously did a bunk with the girl. Unbalanced sort of fellow at the best of times. Some of your – er – colleagues, don’t seem to be able to leave women alone.’ The Governor clearly included Bond. ‘Had to bail the chap out of various scandals before now. Doesn’t do the Colony any good, Mr – er – Bond. Hope your people will be sending us a rather better type of man to take his place. That is,’ he added coldly, ‘if a Regional Control man is really needed here. Personally I have every confidence in our police.’
Bond smiled sympathetically. ‘I’ll report your views, sir. I expect my Chief will like to discuss them with the Minister of Defence and the Secretary of State. Naturally, if you would like to take over these extra duties it will be a saving in manpower so far as my Service is concerned. I’m sure the Jamaican Constabulary is most efficient.’
The Governor looked at Bond suspiciously. Perhaps he had better handle this man a bit more carefully. ‘This is an informal discussion, Mr Bond. When I have decided on my views I will communicate them myself to the Secretary of State. In the meantime, is there anyone you wish to see on my staff?’
‘I’d like to have a word with the Colonial Secretary, sir.’
‘Really? And why, pray?’
‘There’s been some trouble on Crab Key. Something about a bird sanctuary. The case was passed to us by the Colonial Office. My Chief asked me to look into it while I’m here.’
The Governor looked relieved. ‘Certainly, certainly. I’ll see that Mr Pleydell-Smith receives you straight away. So you feel we can leave the Strangways case to sort itself out? They’ll turn up before long, never fear.’ He reached over and rang a bell. The A.D.C. came in. ‘This gentleman would like to see the Colonial Secretary, A.D.C. Take him along, would you? I’ll call Mr Pleydell-Smith myself and ask him to make himself available.’ He got up and came round the desk. He held out his hand. ‘Goodbye then, Mr Bond. And I’m so glad we see eye to eye. Crab Key, eh? Never been there myself, but I’m sure it would repay a visit.’
Bond shook hands. ‘That was what I was thinking. Goodbye, sir.’
‘Goodbye, goodbye.’ The Governor watched Bond’s back retreating out of the door and himself returned well satisfied to his desk. ‘Young whippersnapper,’ he said to the empty room. He sat down and said a few peremptory words down the telephone to the Colonial Secretary. Then he picked up the
The Colonial Secretary was a youngish shaggy-haired man with bright, boyish eyes. He was one of those nervous pipe smokers who are constantly patting their pockets for matches, shaking the box to see how many are left in it, or knocking the dottle out of their pipes. After he had gone through this routine two or three times in his first ten minutes with Bond, Bond wondered if he ever got any smoke into his lungs at all.
