iam fleming.for your eyes only-第6章

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　would　e　and　sit　on　his　head！
　It　was　the　pigeons　that　gave　the　first　alarm。　With　a　loud　clatter　they　took　off　and　dashed　into　the　trees。　All　the　birds　followed；　and　the　squirrel。　Now　the　glade　was　quiet　except　for　the　soft　hum　of　the　bees。　What　had　sounded　the　alarm？　Bond's　heart　began　to　thump。　His　eyes　hunted；　quartering　the　glade　for　a　clue。　Something　was　moving　among　the　roses。　It　was　a　tiny　movement；　but　an　extraordinary　one。　Slowly；　inch　by　inch；　a　single　thorny　stem；　an　unnaturally　straight　and　rather　thick　one；　was　rising　through　the　upper　branches。　It　went　on　rising　until　it　was　a　clear　foot　above　the　bush。　Then　it　stopped。　There　was　a　solitary　pink　rose　at　the　tip　of　the　stem。　Separated　from　the　bush；　it　looked　unnatural；　but　only　if　one　happened　to　have　watched　the　whole　process。　At　a　casual　glance　it　was　a　stray　stem　and　nothing　else。　Now；　silently；　the　petals　of　the　rose　seemed　to　swivel　and　expand；　the　yellow　pistils　drew　aside　and　sun　glinted　on　a　glass　lens　the　size　of　a　shilling。　The　lens　seemed　to　be　looking　straight　at　Bond；　but　then　very；　very　slowly；　the　rose…eye　began　to　turn　on　its　stem　and　continued　to　turn　until　the　lens　was　again　looking　at　Bond　and　the　whole　glade　had　been　minutely　surveyed。　As　if　satisfied；　the　petals　softly　swivelled　to　cover　the　eye　and　very　slowly　the　single　rose　descended　to　join　the　others。
　Bond's　breath　came　out　with　a　rush。　He　momentarily　closed　his　eyes　to　rest　them。　Gipsies！　If　that　piece　of　machinery　was　any　evidence；　inside　the　mound；　deep　down　in　the　earth；　was　certainly　the　most　professional　left…behind　spy　unit　that　had　ever　been　devised　…　far　more　brilliant　than　anything　England　had　prepared　to　operate　in　the　wake　of　a　successful　German　invasion；　far　better　than　what　the　Germans　themselves　had　left　behind　in　the　Ardennes。　A　shiver　of　excitement　and　anticipation　…　almost　of　fear　…　ran　down　Bond's　spine。　So　he　had　been　right！　But　what　was　to　be　the　next　act？
　Now；　from　the　direction　of　the　mound；　came　a　thin　high…pitched　whine　…　the　sound　of　an　electric　motor　at　very　high　revs。　The　rose　bush　trembled　slightly。　The　bees　took　off；　hovered；　and　settled　again。　Slowly；　a　jagged　fissure　formed　down　the　centre　of　the　big　bush　and　smoothly　widened。　Now　the　two　halves　of　the　bush　were　opening　like　double　doors。　The　dark　aperture　broadened　until　Bond　could　see　the　roots　of　the　bush　running　into　the　earth　on　both　sides　of　the　opening　doorway。　The　whine　of　machinery　was　louder　and　there　was　a　glint　of　metal　from　the　edges　of　the　curved　doors。　It　was　like　the　opening　of　a　hinged　Easter　egg。　In　a　moment　the　two　segments　stood　apart　and　the　two　halves　of　the　rose　bush；　still　alive　with　bees；　were　splayed　widely　open。　Now　the　inside　of　the　metal　caisson　that　supported　the　earth　and　the　roots　of　the　bush　were　naked　to　the　sun。　There　was　a　glint　of　pale　electric　light　from　the　dark　aperture　between　the　curved　doors。　The　whine　of　the　motor　had　stopped。　A　head　and　shoulders　appeared；　and　then　the　rest　of　the　man。　He　climbed　softly　out　and　crouched；　looking　sharply　round　the　glade。　There　was　a　gun　…　a　Luger　…　in　his　hand。　Satisfied；　he　turned　and　gestured　into　the　shaft。　The　head　and　shoulders　of　a　second　man　appeared。　He　handed　up　three　pairs　of　what　looked　like　snowshoes　and　ducked　out　of　sight。　The　first　man　selected　a　pair　and　knelt　and　strapped　them　over　his　boots。　Now　he　moved　about　more　freely；　leaving　no　footprints；　for　the　glass　flattened　only　momentarily　under　the　wide　mesh　and　then　rose　slowly　again。　Bond　smiled　to　himself。　Clever　bastards！
　The　second　man　emerged。　He　was　followed　by　a　third。　Between　them　they　manhandled　a　motor…cycle　out　of　the　shaft　and　stood　holding　it　slung　between　them　by　harness　webbing　while　the　first　man；　who　was　clearly　the　leader；　knelt　and　strapped　the　snowshoes　under　their　boots。　Then；　in　single　file；　they　moved　off　through　the　trees　towards　the　road。　There　was　something　extraordinarily　sinister　about　the　way　they　softly　high…stepped　along　through　the　shadows；　lifting　and　carefully　placing　each　big　webbed　foot　in　turn。
　Bond　let　out　a　long　sigh　of　released　tension　and　laid　his　head　softly　down　on　the　branch　to　relax　the　strain　in　his　neck　muscles。　So　that　was　the　score！　Even　the　last　small　detail　could　now　be　added　to　the　file。　While　the　two　underlings　were　dressed　in　grey　overalls；　the　leader　was　wearing　the　uniform　of　the　Royal　Corps　of　Signals　and　his　motor…cycle　was　an　olive　green　BSA　M20　with　a　British　Army　registration　number　on　its　petrol　tank。　No　wonder　the　SHAPE　dispatch…rider　had　let　him　get　within　range。　And　what　did　the　unit　do　with　its　top　secret　booty？　Probably　radioed　the　cream　of　it　out　at　night。　Instead　of　the　periscope；　a　rose…stalk　aerial　would　rise　up　from　the　bush；　the　pedal　generator　would　get　going　deep　down　under　the　earth　and　off　would　go　the　high…speed　cipher　groups。　Ciphers？　There　would　be　many　good　enemy　secrets　down　that　shaft　if　Bond　could　round　up　the　unit　when　it　was　outside　the　hide…out。　And　what　a　chance　to　feed　back　phoney　intelligence　to　GRU；　the　Soviet　Military　Intelligence　Apparat　which　was　presumably　the　control！　Bond's　thoughts　raced。
　The　two　underlings　were　ing　back。　They　went　into　the　shaft　and　the　rose　bush　closed　over　it。　The　leader　with　his　machine　would　be　among　the　bushes　on　the　verge　of　the　road。　Bond　glanced　at　his　watch。　Six…fifty…five。　Of　course！　He　would　be　waiting　to　see　if　a　dispatch…rider　came　along。　Either　he　did　not　know　the　man　he　had　killed　was　doing　a　weekly　run；　which　was　unlikely；　or　he　was　assuming　that　SHAPE　would　now　change　the　routine　for　additional　security。　These　were　careful　people。　Probably　their　orders　were　to　clean　up　as　much　as　possible　before　the　summer　came　and　there　were　too　many　holidaymakers　about　in　the　forest。　Then　the　unit　might　be　pulled　out　and　put　back　again　in　the　winter。　Who　could　say　what　the　long…term　plans　were？　Sufficient　that　the　leader　was　preparing　for　another　kill。
　The　minutes　ticked　by。　At　seven…ten　the　leader　reappeared。　He　stood　in　the　shadow　of　a　big　tree　at　the　edge　of　the　clearing　and　whistled　once　on　a　brief；　high；　birdlike　note。　Immediately　the　rose　bush　began　to　open　and　the　two　underlings　came　out　and　followed　the　leader　back　into　the　trees。　In　two　minutes　they　were　back　with　the　motor…cycle　slung　between　them。　The　leader；　after　a　careful　look　round　to　see　that　they　had　left　no　traces；　followed　them　down　into　the　shaft　and　the　two　halves　of　the　rose　bush　closed　swiftly　behind　him。
　Half　an　hour　later　life　had　started　up　in　the　glade　again。　An　hour　later　still；　when　the　high　sun　had　darkened　the　shadows；　James　Bond　silently　edged　backwards　along　his　branch；　dropped　softly　on　to　a　patch　of　moss　behind　some　brambles　and　melted　carefully　back　into　the　forest。
　That　evening　Bond's　routine　call　with　Mary　Ann　Russell　was　a　stormy　one。　She　said：　〃You're　crazy。　I'm　not　going　to　let　you　do　it。　I'm　going　to　get　Head　of　F　to　ring　up　Colonel　Schreiber　and　tell　him　the　whole　story。　This　is　SHAPE's　job。　Not　yours。〃　
　Bond　said　sharply：　〃You'll　do　nothing　of　the　sort。　Colonel　Schreiber　says　he's　perfectly　happy　to　let　me　make　a　dummy　run　tomorrow　morning　instead　of　the　duty　dispatch…rider。　That's　all　he　needs　to　know　at　this　stage。　Reconstruction　of　the　crime　sort　of　thing。　He　couldn't　care　less。　He's　practically　closed　the　file　on　this　business。　Now；　be　a　good　girl　and　do　as　you're　told。　Just　put　my　report　on　the　printer　to　M。　He'll　see　the　point　of　me　cleaning　this　thing　up。　He　won't　object。〃
　〃Damn　M！　Damn　you！　Damn　the　whole　silly　Service！〃　There　were　angry　tears　in　the　voice。　〃You're　just　a　lot　of　children　playing　at　Red　Indians。　Taking　these　people　on　by　yourself！　It's　…　it's　showing　off。　That's　all　it　is。　Showing　off。〃
　Bond　was　beginning　to　get　annoyed。　He　said：　〃That's　enough；　Mary　Ann。　Put　that　report　on　the　printer。　I'm　sorry；　but　it's　an　order。〃
　There　was　resignation　in　the　voice。　〃Oh；　all　right。　You　don't　have　to　pull　your　rank　on　me。　But　don't　get　hurt。　At　least　you'll　have　the　boys　from　the　local　Station　to　pick　up　the　bits。　Good　luck。〃
　〃Thanks；　Mary　Ann。　And　will　you　have　dinner　with　me　tomorrow　night？　Some　place　like　Armenonville。　Pink　champagne　and　gipsy　violins。　Paris　in　the　spring　routine。〃
　〃Yes；〃　she　said　seriously。