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for it turned out that, while Clover’s father had been what she called “a humble man of the cloth”, his elder brother was Sir Arthur Pennington, Sixth Baronet and master of Pennington Nab, a stately home which Bond had enjoyed, in more ways than one. “Oh, you’ll know my cousins, Emma and Jane, then?” Clover asked, looking up sharply.
    “Intimately,” Bond replied flatly, and with a completely straight face.
    Clover let it pass and they discussed everything from the Hunt Balls at Pennington Nab, to life in the Royal Navy, taking in, on the way, jazz - “My bro’, Julian, introduced me to trad jazz when he was up at Cambridge and I’ve been an addict ever since fishing in the Caribbean, a favorite for both of them; skiing; and, finally, the novels of Eric Ambler and Graham Greene.
    “I feel I’ve known you for a lifetime, James,” she said as they drove slowly back towards the RNAS.
    It was, Bond thought, a somewhat trite remark, but possibly one of invitation. He pulled the BMW into a lay-by and cut the engine.
    “The feeling’s mutual, Clover, my dear.” He reached for her in the darkness and she responded to his first rough kiss, though pulled away when he began to move in closer.
    “No,James. No, not yet. It might become difficult, particularly as we’re going to be shipmates.”
    “What d’you mean, shipmates?” Bond nuzzled her hair.
    “Invincible, of course.”
    “What about Invincible?” He gently backed off.
    “Well, we’re both being drafted there for Landsea “89, aren’t we?”
    “First I’ve heard of it.” Bond’s voice remained steady, while a snake of worry began to curl around his stomach. “First I’ve heard of Wrens going to sea as well - particularly during an exercise like Landsea
    “89.”
     
    “Well, it’s all over the place. In fact I’ve been told officially.
    Fifteen of us. Me, and fourteen ratings - apart from the other ladies who’ll be on board.”
    “And what about me?” Deep within him, Bond was more than concerned now. If it was common knowledge that he was being drafted to Invincible it would not take much intelligence for the unscrupulous to put two and two together, particularly if they had got hold of the information that three senior Admirals, including the C-in-C of the Russian Navy, were going to be aboard. His mind jumped back to the near-miss that afternoon, and he wondered if somebody was already trying to take evasive action and cut him out of the baby-sitting business.
    Clover continued to talk, saying that she wouldn’t have said anything if she did not already know he was involved. “Of course it’s classified,” she sounded a shade defensive. “But security’s for those without need-to-know, surely.”
    “And I have need-to-know?”
    “Your name is on the list, James. Of course you have clearance.
    “And these other women. Who are they?”
    “We haven’t been told. All I know is that there are to be other women.
    “Okay, from the top, you tell me all you know, Clover.”
    Bond listened, and became more concerned. Concerned enough to make a very secure call for a crash meeting with M during the coming weekend.
    “I shouldn’t go blabbing about this to all and sundry, Clover,” he admonished. “Not even good to talk to me about it,” he told her when they got back to the Wrennery.
    “Well, kiss me goodnight, at least, James,” she pouted.
    He smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Not just yet,” he said solemnly. “Especially if we’re going to be shipmates.”
    Though he laughed as he drove away, the entire events of the day were more than worrying. Bond made his crash call to M from a telephone box a mile up the road, off the Base. The Duty Officer, using a scrambler, arranged the meeting for Sunday.
    The search for the Spanish pilot, Felipe Pantano, and his missing Sea Harrier had been called off at dusk, but would be resumed in the morning. Yet, long before the S and R helicopter teams had clattered out to