THE ROOM WAS DECORATED almost entirely in black, with soft lighting hidden high up behind pelmets, where there must once have been ornate old picture rails. It took Bond a second to realise that there were two rooms and not one; for half of each of the bedroom walls and a large section of the ceiling was made of mirror – difficult to distinguish against the black decor. This gave the illusion of more space; it also had the unnerving effect of disorientation. Donal spoke just as Bond confirmed, to himself, that an archway led from the bedroom into a bathroom.

'You did not leave the keys to your luggage, sir; otherwise I would have had your clothes unpacked and pressed. Perhaps tomorrow?'

'Certainly,' Bond turned his back, speaking sharply. 'Goodnight, Donal.'

'Goodnight, sir.' The butler withdrew, and Bond heard a very solid click as the door closed. He went over and tried the handle, immediately realising he had been correct in his identification of the sound. The door was fitted with a remote-controlled electronic lock. He was virtually a prisoner. At least, he thought, setting the roomy briefcase on a side table, he would not be a prisoner who would be secretly watched or overheard.

Unlocking the briefcase by turning the keys twice, he pressed down hard on the catches, which lifted on small hinges, revealing the real locking devices underneath: three wheels of numbers on each side. Bond spun the dials, and the briefcase opened. With this one they had made little effort to hide the equipment inside, the top of the case being a simple tray in which his toilet gear rested. Lifting out the tray, Bond uncovered the few pieces of hardware beneath.

The largest item was the one Bond required – the standard VL 22H counter-surveillance receiver, which looked something like a chunky walky-talky, but with headphones and a hand-held probe.

Bond plugged in the headset and probe, slipped the instrument's shoulder strap around his neck, adjusted everything and switched on. For the next ten minutes he carefully ran the probe over the entire room, covering every corner and fitment. The built-in verifier would quickly determine any type of bug, differentiate between various signals and even lead him to any television cameras hidden behind the large expanses of glass; or secret fibre-optic lenses, the size of pencil holes, in the wall. He followed a well-learned pattern, completing the sweep with great care. Nothing showed. The note in the earphones remained constant, and the needle in the VU unit did not waver.

Returning the counter-surveillance unit to its hiding place, he pulled out the larger piece of luggage. Checking the locks, he once more used his keys to open the lid, throwing the clothes out in a manner that would have made the sinister and fastidious Donal wince. When the case was empty, Bond returned to the locks, turning the keys a further three times in each. At the final click of the right lock, a minute panel slid back in the far left-hand corner of the case bottom, revealing a small numbered dial.

Bond spun the dial, selecting the code arranged between Q'ute and himself only a few days previously.

Another click and he was able to slide a larger portion of the case bottom to one side, disclosing some of Q Branch's special hardware, packed neatly in velvet-lined trays.

Removing the tiny receiver/recorder – based on the STR 440, and only eighty-four by fifty-five millimetres in size, complete with a specialised tape cassette and foam-padded minute headset -Bond switched on, set the control dial to the figure 1, and saw a small light glow like a red-hot pinhead. The bug placed in Murik's study was now active. A cassette lay ready attached to the machine. Now, any conversation or movement in Murik's room would be recorded on Bond's receiver. He looked around and decided that, for the moment at least, it was safe to leave the receiver on the long dressing table that took up the bulk of one wall. He put the small piece of apparatus carefully on the dressing table and started to unpack, first sliding the hidden compartment in the case back to its locked position.

Long experience had taught Bond to pack and unpack with speed and efficiency. In less than five minutes he had shirts, underwear, socks and other necessities packed neatly in the drawers which ran down the outer ends of the long dressing table, and his other clothes hung in the closets built into the walls on either side of the archway leading to the bathroom. He left one or two special items in the cases, which, after locking, he placed at the bottom of one of the closets. Only then did Bond allow himself an examination of the room, which had all the makings of an expensive movie set.

The centrepiece of the main room was a vast bed, made up with white silk sheets and pillows. The visible edges of the bed glowed with light, and the whole was partially enclosed by two high, padded semi-circular panels. Bond slid on to the bed, and found himself in what was almost another bedroom within the main room. The inside of the panels was softly lit; a large console took up the whole of one section to his left, while a television screen was set into one of the panelled sections which made up the semi-circle at the bed's foot.

After a few experiments with the console, Bond found that each section of the two semi-circles could be moved by remote control; that the bed could be slowly rotated; and even raised or lowered at will. The console also had facilities for complete quadrophonic sound, television video-recording, the Ceefax system, a telephone and intercommunication sets. Behind him, in a rack sunk into the black padding of the panel was a whole range of music and video cassettes, plus a pair of expensive Koss headphones. Bond glanced briefly at the cassettes, seeing that Anton Murik appeared to provide for all tastes – from Bach to Bartok, the Beatles to the latest avant-garde rock bands; while the video cassettes were of movies only recently released in cinemas.

Bond recognised the bed as the famous and exclusive Slumberland 2002 Sleepcentre, with some modifications, made probably on Murik's own instructions. He noted that the console provided sound and light programmes marked 'Peace Mood', 'Wake', 'Sleep' and 'Love'. Something Q'ute would have appreciated, he thought with wry amusement.

It took a lot of will-power for Bond to leave the so-called Sleepcentre and investigate the bathroom which also had several intriguing gadgets, including a sunken whirlpool bath, and even a blood-warm lavatory seat. 'All mod cons,' he said aloud.

With a short chuckle, Bond returned to the bedroom. He would try out the communications system and complain that his door seemed to be jammed. As he headed towards the bed, a glance at the receiver on the dressing table showed the tape revolve for a second and then stop. The bug placed in Murik's study was picking up noises. Grabbing the receiver and headset, Bond dived into the Sleepcentre, slipping the 'phones over his ears.

Someone was in Murik's study. He heard a distinctive cough, then Murik's voice: 'Come in, the door's open. Close it and shoot the bolt. We don't want to be disturbed.'

The sounds came clearly through the headphones: the door closing, and then the rustle as someone sat down.

'I'm sorry about dinner,' Anton Murik said. 'It was unavoidable, and I didn't think it wise for you to show yourself to my visitor, even though he probably wouldn't recognise you from Adam.'

'The message was understood. Who is the man?' The other voice was heavily accented. Franco, Bond thought.

'Harmless, but could be useful. I can always do with a little intelligent muscle. Caber is good, but rarely puts his brain into gear before working. You have to give him orders like a dog.'

'This man…?'