johngardner.winloseordie-第22章

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　Somehow　he　was　back　in　the　villa；　sitting　with　the　remnants　of　their　Christmas　meal　still　on　the　table；　and　a　familiar　figure　was　striding　through　the　sliding　doors。
'Dragontooth；　Captain　Bond；'　Clover　Pennington　said。　'I'm　sorry；　but　it　was　the　only　way；　and　it　almost　didn't　work。　Can　you　hear　me。　sir？　Dragontooth。'
　Bond　looked　up　at　her　with　loathing　and　spat　out；　'Dragon…tooth；　and　all　the　other　Demons　of　the　Pit　to　you！'　He　even　seemed　to　be　cringing　back　against　the　chair；　as　though　to　get　away　from　her。
　
　9
　
　Northanger
Even　though　he　had　seen　the　ambulance　people；　firemen；　and　the　police　around　the　twisted　and　blackened　shell　that　had　once　been　the　Fiat；　James　Bond　could　not　take　all　of　it　in。　Vaguely；　in　the　far　eorner　of　his　mind；　he　realised　that　he　must　be　in　shock；　but　every　time　he　turned　to　Clover　Pennington　he　expected　to　see　the　trim　and　bubbly　Beatrice　Maria　da　Ricci。　He　could　not　believe　she　was　dead；　even　though　Clover　was　spelling　it　out　to　him：　slowly；　as　one　explains　to　a　child；　and　loudly　as　his　ears　still　rang　from　the　explosion。
　'She　was　either　'Cat'　or　one　of　'Cat's'　close　acplices；'　Clover　told　him；　time　and　time　again。　It　was　like　being　beaten　over　the　head。　Occasionally　a　plain…clothes　man　came　to　her；　muttered　in　her　ear　and　received　a　reply。　'M　had　the　staff　here　checked　out。　One　of　our　people　spotted　there　had　been　some　kind　of　a　switch　when　they　saw　the　man　called　Franco　in　the　gardens。　We　went　on　full　alert　then。　Nobody　was　sure　of　the　situation。　That　is　until　I　spotted　you　with　her　yesterday。'
　Another　couple　of　men　came　in　through　（he　french　windows　and　spoke　to　her。　Clover's　eyes　flicked　towards　Bond；　then　away。　When　the　men　left　she　said　that；　unhappily；　the　two　men　Beatrice　had　at　the　house　had　been　killed　in　the　firefight。　'My　orders　were　to　be　absolutely　ruthless；　though　we　had　to　try　and　get　at　least　one　of　the　team　alive。　Unhappily　we　didn't　manage　it；　and　I'm　uncertain　whether　！he　Ricci　girl　was　the　'Cat'　or　not　。　。　。　And　。　。　。'　she　paused；　embarrassed。　'And　I　don't　know　if　we'll　ever　gel　confirmation。　She　must　have　taken　ihe　full　blast。　There's　nothing；　or　very　little；　left。　Sorry；'　she　added；　as　though　apologising。
Bond　sat；　staring　into　space　as　though　he　was　taking　nothing　in。　'She　gave　me　the　right　daily　codes；'　he　said；　his　voice　like　that　of　a　robol。
　'They　had　the　telephone　in　here　wired。　Picked　it　all　up　at　the　big　villa。'　Clover；　in　her　pleated　grey　skirt；　sweater　and　sensible　shoes；　felt　she　was　still　not　really　getting　to　him。　'Captain　Bond？　James？　Sir？'　she　tried。　But　he　still　sat。　staring　into　space。
　Someone　switched　on　the　radio　in　the　kitchen。　'Have　yourself　я　merry　little　Christmas。'　the　late　Bing　Crosby　sang　in　English；　and　she　saw　Bond's　head　lift；　cocked　to　one　side。
　〃Put　that　off。　you　clown！'　Clover　shouted；　then　turned　back　to　Bond。　'They've　found　the　regular　staff；　arid　the　watchers　our　people　put　in。　At　least　they're　alive：　gagged　and　bound　in　the　wine　cellars。　Well　know　more　when　our　fellows　provide　their　reports　and　descriptions。　Now；　I　have　to　get　you　out　of　here；　sir。　Do　you　understand？　We　really　do　have　to　debrief　you　as　well。'
　Finally。　Bond　nodded；　slowly；　as　though　mon　sense　had　started　to　prevail。　In　his　head；　whenever　someone　made　a　noise；　dropped　something；　or　talked　too　loudly；　he　heard　the　deafening　double…crump　again；　and　clearly　saw　Beatrice　smiling　at　him；　pulling　open　the　car　door；　then　being　engulfed　by　the　explosion。　The　ringing　in　his　ears　had　turned　into　a　permanent　whine。　He　looked　up　at　Clover　Pennington。　'I　want　to　speak；　personally；　to　M；'　he　said；　coldly。
　'Not　yet。　James　…　er　sir。　Not　yet。　We　do　have　to　move　you　on。　And　we　have　to　be　very　careful。　M's　instructions　are　that　you　remain　in　deep　cover。　That's　essential。　We　have　to　drop　you　out　of　sight　again　so　that　you　can　re…emerge　when　you　join　Invincible；　in　just　over　a　week。'
　Bond　made　a　gesture　that　signified　he　understood。　Though　this　was　not　borne　out　by　his　ne〃（　question　…　〃If　she　was　BAST；　what　happened？　Did　they　kill　her　by　mistake'。''
　'Later；　sir。　Please。　I　really　think　it　would　be　dangerous　for　you　to　stay　on　here。　We　have　a　helicopter　ing　in　to　pick　you　up。　They'll　take　you　to　a　secure　base　on　the　mainland。　There's　a　debriefing　team　standing　by；　and　they　have　good　doctors；　in　case　you　need　medical　。　。　。'
'I'm　not　in　need　of　doctors。　First　Officer　Pennington。'
'With　respect；　sir；　you　need　them　to　give　you　the　once…over。〃
There　was　the　clattering　sound　of　a　helicopter；　getting　louder　as　it　swept　in　from　the　sea　Ui　circle　above　the　villa。
　〃I　take　the　pistol；　sir？'　from　one　of　the　thick…set　men　in　civilian　clothes。
　'Not　on　your　life。'　Bond　was　now　being　really　angry。　'I'm　not　a　child；　nor　am　I　about　to　do　anything　stupid。〃　He　glared　around　him。　'What're　we　waiting　for。　then？　Let's　go。'
　Outside；　hovering　directly　over　the　villa；　an　old　Agusta　chopper；　carrying　Italian　Naval　markings；　began　to　descend。
　One　of　Clover　Pennington's　men　gave　hand…signals　and　they　lowered　a　crewman　with　a　harness；　and　winched　Bond　into　the　chopper。　The　last　thing　he　looked　at；　as　the　helicopter　turned　away；　heading　for　the　coast；　was　the　black；　charred　and　twisted　remains　of　the　Fiat；　and　local　police　blockades　at　each　end　of　the　road。
　An　hour　later　he　was　inside　a　small　military　base。　near　Caserta。　Bond's　local　geographic　knowledge　was　enough　to　follow　the　route。　From　the　air；　the　base　looked　anything　but　military；　with　half　a　dozen　oblong　buildings；　and　a　triple　security　perimeter：　a　sandwich　of　heavy…duty　razor　wire　between　two　high　chain…link　fences。　The　guards　at　the　main　gates　were　armed　but　did　not　seem　to　be　uniformed。
　He　was　given　a　large；　airy　room；　functional；　with　minimal　fort；　a　small　bathroom　and　no　TV　or　distracting　pictures　on　the　wall。　Somehow　they　had　managed　to　pack　his　case　at　the　villa　and　it　now　stood　neatly　just　inside　the　door。　Bond　stretched　out　on　the　bed；　placing　the　Browning　within　reach。　At　least　they　had　not　disarmed　him。　There　were　a　dozen　or　so　paperbacks　in　a　pile　on　the　night　table；　a　couple　of　（hrillers；　one　Deighton；　a　Greene；　two　thick　Forsyths　and　a　little　assorted　bunch　which　included　Joyce's　Ulysses　and　a　copy　of　War　&　Peace。　He　knew　from　his　own　strung…out　state　that　he　needed　something　to　keep　his　mind　working；　but　this　was　a　bizarre　little　collection；　and　he　felt　very　tired；　too　fatigued　to　read；　but　not　enough　flaked　out　to　sleep。　Anyway；　he　had　read　the　lot；　apart　from　an　odd　little　thriller　masterpiece　by　some　unknown　author　boasting　the　title　Moonlight　and　Bruises。
　He　played　back　the　memory　which　blazed　in　his　head。　The　Fiat；　the　steps；　the　wrought　iron　gates；　Beatrice　smiling　and　opening　the　car　door；　then　being　blotted　out　by　the　ball　of　fire。
No。　was　it　his　memory　playing　tricks？　It　was　not　really　like　that。　She　waved　and　smiled。　What　next？　The　violence　of　the　explosion　throwing　him　back？　No。　something　else。　She　was　smiling　and　pulling　Ihe　car　door　open。　Smoke。　There　was　a　lot　of　smoke　wilh　the　fireball；　wind　and　crack…thump　of　the　explosion。　Whai　kind　of　explosive　could　they　have　used　that　made　so　much　smoke'。'　It　did　not　happen　with　Seintex　or　RDX。　This　was　something　he　would　have　10　report。　It　could　he　that　some　terrorist　organisations　were　using　a　new　type　of　explosive：　or　was　it　an　old　mixture　which；　wilh　age；　produced　more　smoke　than　usual？　Anyway；　it　had　wiped　out　an　unusually　cold…blooded　terrorist　princess。
　How　many　terrorist　princesses　does　it　take　to　wire　up　a　time…bomb？　Three：　one　to　get　the　wire；　one　10　get　the　gold　Rolex　and　one　to　call　the　expert。　There　was　a　tap　on　the　door　and　he　called　？e。'　with　one　hand　slipping　off　the　Browning's　safety　and　turning　！he　pistol　towards　the　door。
　The　man　was　tail；　dressed　casually　in　slacks　and　a　sweater。　He　had　the　dark　leathery　looks　of　the　Middle　East；　bul　his　voice　was　pure　Oxford　English。
　'Captain　Bond？'　he　queried；　though　Bond　got　the　distinct　impression　that　he　was　merely　adhering　to　some　kind　of　ritual。
He　nodded。
　'Name's　Farsee。'　He　was　in　his　forties；　carried　himself　in　an　alert　military　manner；　adjusting　everything　to　make　it　seem　as　though　he　was　pure　civilian　to　the　marrow。　His　laugh；　when　ii　came；　lacked　real　humour。