He had expected some delay before he could establish his identity.
James Bond, sitting on the edge of his bed, said, “Thank you.” I’ll put you on to an officer who may be able to help you.” The operator got back on the line: “Just a moment, sir. The Liaison Section was the first cog in the machine, the first sieve. She said, “Put him through to Liaison, Pat.” There had even been one pestiferous woman who, at every full moon, passed on messages from Bond on Uranus, where it seemed he had got stuck while awaiting entry into heaven. The switchboard had had quite a few such calls since, a year before, James Bond’s death on a mission to Japan had been announced in the press. The girl at the switchboard at the Ministry of Defence flicked the switch to HOLD and said to her neighbour, “It’s another nut who says he’s James Bond. On that cold, clear morning in November he was to see the careful cogwheels in motion. One thing that James Bond, for instance, didn’t know was the machinery at Headquarters for dealing with the public, whether friendly or otherwise-drunks, lunatics, bona fide applications to join the Service, and enemy agents with plans for penetration or even assassination. The latter is responsible for keeping the Top Secret record known as The War Book so that, in the event of the death of both of them, the whole story, apart from what is available to individual Sections and Stations, would be available to their successors. and his Chief of Staff know absolutely everything there is to know.
The Secret Service holds much that is kept secret even from very senior officers in the organization.
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