Bob Simmons knocked softly at Moneypenny’s door. Moneypenny called for him to enter without looking away from her screens. The audio from HAVOC on the plane skirting Syrian airspace spooled into her office. It was a comfort to hear Felix Leiter’s drawl, though she knew he was breaking every doctor’s order.
“What is it, Bob?”
No answer.
Moneypenny glanced up. Bob looked stricken. “What’s happened? Sun blinked?”
Bob Simmons sidled in, accompanied by two other security officers—Precious Mosaku and Don Nicholson—who were both armed. They moved aside for Mrs. Keator, who was shaking, her usually pale cheeks spotted red. She could see Phoebe standing with her hands vaguely raised by the coat rack, watched by another officer, Jay Russo.
“Mrs. Keator?”
“A transmission is leaving this building from your station.”
“I’ve got an open line to Felix Leiter.”
“That’s not it.” Mrs. Keator looked like she was having trouble breathing. “You’re transmitting your screen activity. Including 009 and 003’s plan of approach.”
Moneypenny laid a hand on her keyboard. “That’s not possible.”
Mrs. Keator beckoned Aisha Asante inside. “Go ahead.”
Aisha paused at the threshold, biting her lower lip. Then said, “Sorry, Ms. Moneypenny.”
Moneypenny’s stomach flipped as Aisha took apart her machine, trailing its wires like fishing lines. “I can’t possibly be transmitting.”
The device was smaller than a fingernail. Aisha held it up to the lamplight. “This is it.”
“I’ve never seen that before in my life,” said Moneypenny.
“You were going to frame Bill Tanner,” said Mrs. Keator, “and you had me help you.”
Moneypenny slammed her fist on the desk. “We don’t have time for this.”
“You’re going to sit here under Bob Simmons and Mosaku’s watch until M arrives. Be glad it’s them, not me.”
“You can’t release Tanner,” said Moneypenny. “You have to listen to me.”
Mrs. Keator shook her head. “I’ll let M decide what to do with the two of you. He put the Double O’s under your care. He trusted you. I trusted you. Bill trusted you, too.”
Moneypenny came out from behind her desk. Mosaku and Nicholson both raised their weapons by an instinctive inch, and then froze. Bob Simmons got himself between them all, his arm raised.
“All right, everyone,” he said equably, “let’s keep the peace.”
Moneypenny glanced back to her phone. She could hear Leiter say they had failed to cross Saturn. Each stage of the mission had a code name. Successful landing had been Mercury. Penetration of the tunnels, radioed in by Harwood, Jupiter. No contact was expected beneath ground because of the depth and makeup of the soil. Harwood and Bashir had given an estimate of how long they thought it would take for them to neutralize Mora and make contact. And that time had passed.