James Bond: The Authorised Biography by John Pearson Page A

had been there, there was no sign of them at 12.15. Had the girl been seen? Had Vlacek's suspicions been aroused by some difference in his spectacles? Suddenly Bond realized that if he had failed, it was the end of his career. Maddox would somehow manage to explain away the money he had spent to Whitehall. But there could be no explanation for himself. In his business failure was the only sin against the Holy Ghost.
    Then suddenly the Roumanians had come. The usual rigmarole began. Vlacek took his customary place. There was a hush. The dealing started. Bond watched him carefully. Vlacek picked up his cards and, for the first time, Bond saw him falter. Instead of that mechanical inhuman play, Vlacek was pausing. And, for the first time since Bond had watched him, Vlacek lost.
    There was a buzz of interest. People were watching now. The croupier, a white-faced, elegant young man gathered the cards, replaced them in the shoe, then dealt again. As Vlacek held his cards this time his hand was shaking, but he kept his self-control and bet high as he always did. Bond noticed two small beads of oily sweat starting to trickle down his cheek. He turned up his cards – a seven. The banker had a ‘natural’. It was the third hand that seemed to crack Vlacek. He was sweating freely now and placed an even higher stake on his cards. Again he lost. Then something unexpected happened. The Roumanian clutched at his dark glasses and pulled them off. For the first time Bond saw his eyes. They were staring straight at him and they were full of fear. Vlacek tried to rise, but Mathis was behind him.
    ‘Sit, monsieur,’ he said, ‘the game goes on.’
    Then Bond produced his own dark glasses. Duverger had made them up for him with Vlacek's original lenses. Bond put them on. The cards were shuffled from the shoe and Bond could finally see the trick which had come so near to ruining the casino. On the back of every card were clear luminous signs – dots for numbers, crosses for kings, circles for queens, and so on. This was the famous ‘Luminous Reader’ – with these extraordinary dark glasses, Bond could tell everybody's hand, even the banker’s. He could see now how the Roumanians had always won.
    For the next half hour James Bond played – the game of a lifetime. Mathis kept Vlacek at the table and James Bond destroyed him. He had some £50,000 in chips before him. Bond took it all, and only then did Mathis let Vlacek rise.
    The final act took place that night on the second floor of the casino in de Lesseps's office. All four Roumanians were there. So was James Bond along with Mathis and de Lesseps and a group of top-security officials from the casino. As a policeman, Mathis had been in favour of making the whole case public, but de Lesseps had argued him out of this. This was Monaco – not France. The publicity of a big trial would be unwelcome, and the outcome could be uncertain.
    Instead the Roumanians had agreed to refund most of their winnings, and had signed an undertaking never to enter a casino again. Mathis could ensure that they never entered France either.
    So they agreed, and Bond saw them walk down the grand staircase and across the foyer for the last time. It was a moment not without its pathos. The big limousine was waiting.
    Bond went to send Esposito a cable – ‘Luminous reader triumphant.’ And as he came back from the desk to have a drink with Mathis, a tall, blonde girl brushed against his arm. The drink had to wait.

5
     
    Eve of War Games
     
    B OND SEEMED TO have enjoyed telling the story of the luminous reader. There was no mistaking the nostalgia with which he talked about those far-off days.
    ‘So,’ he concluded, ‘I like to think that I'm the man who saved the Bank of Monte Carlo.’
    ‘But was it really useful to the British Secret Service? Did it work the way that Maddox planned?’
    Bond laughed good-humouredly.
    ‘Well, yes and no. The undercover world was very different then. There was a lot