johngardner.goldeneye-第6部分

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　harbour；　feet　planted　apart　as　though　he　stood　on　the　bridge　of　a　warship；　a　large　pair　of　night　glasses　glued　to　his　eyes。
　
　These　were　far　from　ordinary　night　glasses；　but　another　product　of　Q　Branch's　fertile　imagination。　　Not　only　was　the　image　quality　enhanced　to　a　point　where；　at　this　moment；　he　could　have　been　standing　next　to　the　couple　in　his　sights；　but　also　the　binoculars　contained　the　ability　to　photograph　the　exact　scene　onto　which　he　was　zeroed　…　the　resulting　pictures　stored　immediately　on　a　small　puter　disk　within　the　centre　section　of　the　glasses。
　
　Down　among　the　berthed　yachts；　he　had　two　people　in　close　up。　　The　slim　and　dark　Xenia　Onatopp　and　her　admiral　who；　to　Bond；　looked　incredibly　like　the　long　ago　murdered　Czar　Nicholas。
　
　Admiral　Farrel　was　handing　the　delicious　and　mysterious　Xenia　into　a　motor　launch。　　Bond　pressed　the　camera　button　twice　…　once　for　the　admiral　and　once；　full　face；　for　Onatopp~　then　a　third　time　for　the　insurance。　　He　moved　slightly　to　focus　in　on　the　stern　of　the　launch；　magnifying　the　name　Manticore。
　
　The　launch；　leaving　a　white　trail　of　foam　behind　it；　sped　from　the　jetty；　heading　out　towards　a　sleek　and　very　expensive　yacht　at　anchor　in　the　harbour。
　
　Bond　waited　a　few　minutes；　examining　the　other　ships　visible　inshore　and　in　the　harbour。　　Among　them　he　noticed　the　lines　of　a　French　warship。　This　last　had　a　long　stern　which　was　almost　pletely　taken　up　by　a　large　helicopter。　　1n　silhouette　the　machine　looked　dark　and　full　of　menace。
　
　Something　in　the　back　of　Bond's　mind　stirred；　half　surfaced　then　again　retreated　from　his　memory。　　He　pushed　it　away。　　If　you　cannot　recall　something　immediately；　it　probably　is　not　worth　remembering　anyway。　Meanwhile　he　had　things　to　do。
　
　The　walk　down　from　the　rock　took　him　some　ten　minutes；　so　within　a　quarter　of　an　hour　he　was　behind　the　wheel　of　the　DB5；　growling　out　of　Monaco　again　and　heading　high　up　into　the　foothills。　　Eventually　he　parked　just　below　the　ancient　village　of　La　Turbie；　with　its　Roman　ruins　and　monument。　　It　was　the　place；　they　had　told　him；　where　he　would　get　the　best　possible　reception。
　
　Turning　on　the　radio；　he　quickly　unloaded　the　little　puter　disk　from　the　binoculars；　slid　it　into　a　slit　to　the　right　of　the　CD　player　and　pressed　one　of　the　preset　radio　buttons。　　There　was　an　almost　imperceptible　whine　as　the　data　was　read　from　the　disk　and　carried　to　London　via　satellite。
　
　It　took　ten　minutes；　almost　to　the　second。　　The　radio　crackled　and　he　heard　the　voice　of　Moneypenny　who；　in　spite　of　her　long　association　with　the　old　M；　had　agreed　to　see　the　recently　appointed　Chief　through　the　first　difficult　months　in　charge。
　
　〃Transmission　begins。〃　Bond　smiled　as　her　slightly　breathy　voice　came　clearly　into　the　car　through　its　eight　speakers；　and　at　the　same　moment　a　fax　began　to　emerge　in　full　colour　from　the　CD　slot。
　
　The　first　photograph　was　of　Xenia。　　Moneypenny　kept　up　her　running　mentary。　　〃ID　confirmed。　　Onatopp；　Xenia。　　Former　Soviet　fighter　pilot。　　Worked　for　a　year；　just　before　the　〃91　coup；　as　a　general　pilot　for　KGB。　　Current　suspected　link　with　the　St。　Petersburg　Janus　Crime　syndicate。〃　Next　came　his　shot　of　Chuck　Farrel。　　〃ID　confirmed。　Rear　Admiral　Charles　（Chuck）　Farrel；　US　Navy。　　Distinguished　career　as　an　expert　in　the　use　of　naval　helicopters。　Career　marred　only　by　rumours　of　constant　womanising。
　
　Was　cleared　of　several　charges　during　the　now　infamous　Tailhook　scandal　in　1993。　　Is　in　Monaco　with　a　number　of　US　Navy　personnel　gathering　for　a　top　secret　demonstration。
　
　Last　came　the　name　Manticore　on　the　rear　of　the　motor　launch。
　
　〃Yacht；　Manticore；　is　on　lease　to　a　known　Janus　corporation　front。
　
　M　authorises　you　to　observe　subject　Onatopp；　but　not　…　repeat　not　…　to　make　contact　without　M's　personal　authority。　　End　transmission。〃　She　had　stressed　the　word　〃contact'　as　though　it　were　a　code　word　for　something　more　interesting。　　The　Janus　Crime　syndicate　was；　he　knew；　the　most　ruthless　of　the　organised　Russian　mafia　families　that　had　bee　more　deadly　than　anything　conceived　during　the　last　days　of　the　Soviet　Union。　Janus　was　the　scourge　of　the　new　Russia　and　one　of　the　reasons　why　Bond　held　to　the　theory　that；　eventually；　it　would　be　business　as　usual　within　the　shrinking　borders　of　the　once　evil　empire。
　
　It　was　time；　he　thought；　to　pay　a　visit　to　this　yacht；　Manticore；　something　that　was　easier　said　than　done。
　
　The　main　stateroom　of　Manticore　was　overtly　designed　for　physical　pleasure。　　It　was　a　relatively　larger　cabin　with　an　en　suite　bathroom　big　enough　to　sport　a　Jacuzzi　and　wall　fittings　that　contained　colourful　bottles　full　of　brand　name　oils　and　unguents；　including　those　sensual　edible　oils　sold　as　sexual　aids　…　the　ones　that　e　in　various　flavours　which　enable　partners　to　lick　them　from　each　other's　bodies。
　
　The　walls　were　decorated　with　erotic　paintings　and　drawings；　ulminatin~　with　a　huge　oil　directly　over　the　bed　depicting　in　all　its　detail　a　modern　view　of　a　Roman　orgy。　　The　lights　were　dimmed　and　there　was　a　scent　of　musk　in　the　air；　while　from　some　hidden　source　came　a　soft　lush　melody　played　on　what　sounded　like　a　thousand　strings。
　
　On　the　bed　itself；　late　on　this　warm　and　luxurious　evening；　Xenia　Onatopp　coupled　with　Admiral　Chuck　Farrel　who　was　slowly　understanding　that　he　had　never　had　it　so　good。　　She　had　taken　control　almost　before　locking　the　door　to　the　stateroom　and　telling　him　that　nobody　would　disturb　them。
　
　She　had　stripped　him；　pushed　him　back　onto　the　great　bed　and　said　…〃For　this　one　night；　Chuck；　I　want　you　to　enjoy　me　fully。　　Think　of　me　as　the　ultimate　pinnacle　of　your　sexual　dreams。〃　She　had　slowly　undressed　for　him；　gently　revealing　her　body；　not　in　the　vulgar　grind　of　a　striptease　artist；　but　with　the　flair　and　professionalism　of　a　ballerina。　　Each　movement　seemed　to　have　been　choreographed　just　for　him；　and　at　last　when　she　was　totally　naked　she　came　to　him；　whispering　in　his　ear；　rousing　him　almost　to　a　frenzy；　helping　him；　instructing　him　as　a　perfect　body　slave　until　he　became　pliable；　and　left　with　a　sense　that　he　owed　her　a　great　sexual　experience。
　
　It　was　then　that　she　began　a　true　domination　of　him：　straddling　his　body　and　riding　him；　goading　him　onwards　until　their　sweat　mingled　and　he　was　pletely　at　her　mercy。
　
　He　cried　out　as　he　reached　his　summit　for　the　third　time　in　two　hours；　and；　as　he　did　so；　she　made　a　quick　subtle　movement　with　her　thighs；　flipping　him　over　so　that　he　lay　face　downwards　on　the　bed。
　
　With　soft；　soothing　words　she　began　to　wrap　her　strong　legs　around　his　body；　moving　slightly　so　that　eventually　she　held　him　in　a　scissors　grip；　her　thighs　wrapped　around　his　chest；　slowly　loosening　and　tightening　her　hold　in　a　manner　which　made　him　gasp　with　pleasure　until　she　suddenly　began　tensing　the　muscles　as　though　she　were　attempting　to　draw　his　entire　body　into　hers。
　
　He　gasped　and　cried　out　…　Xenia　No。　　I　can't　breathe　I。　　No。。
　
　It　was　doubtful　if　she　even　heard　him　as　she　flexed　the　muscles　even　tighter。　　This　was　the　technique　of　a　boa　constrictor　and　she　felt　the　bones　crack　in　his　chest；　with　half　her　mind　registering　the　inevitable　crunching　horror　of　ribs　crumbling。
　
　At　the　moment　of　his　asphyxiation　Xenia　Onatopp　cried　out　in　her　own　final　and　conclusive　orgasm　…　Yes　Ahhhhh　Yes！　　Yes！　。。。
　
　Yeeeessssss！〃　It　was　a　technique　she　had　used　many　times　during　her　life；　and　her　masters　knew　how　effective　she　could　be。　　A　secret　weapon　like　a　spider　who　consumes　its　mate　after　the　sex　act。
　
　She　swayed　to　and　fro；　still　rubbing　herself　against　his　corpse；　moaning　and　supremely　satisfied　in　her　moment　of　glory。
　
　She　flicked　the　dead　body　onto　its　back；　then　slowly　unwound　herself；　as　though　woken　from　a　trance　by　the　soft　knock　on　the　stateroom　door。
　
　She　opened　up；　unconcerned　about　her　nakedness。
　
　A　familiar　figure　stood　in　the　doorway。　　〃The　spider　and　the　admiral；　huh？〃　the　man　said　as　he　gently　took　her　in　his　arms　and　rocked　her　as　one　will　lull　a　child　into　fort　or　sleep。
　
　Bond　had　already　taken　the　small　sailing　boat　along　the　coastline。
　
　Two　days　before；　when　M's　representative~　Caroline；　had　demanded　that　he　should　show　her　his　proficiency　with　the　little　craft　which　he　had　rented　together　with　the　tiny　villa；　right　on　the　shoreline　near　Cap　Ferrat。
　
　In　the　early　hours　of　that　morning；　he　prepared　for　another　journey：　showering　first　with　scalding　water　and　then　with　an　ice　cold　needle　spray。
　
　He　towelled　himself　down　roughly；　and　went　through　his　exercises；　the　sit…ups　and　push…ups　that　were　his　normal　routine　first　thing　in　the　morning。　　The　fact　that　he　had　been　awake　all　night　made　no　difference　for　tomorrow　was　now；　and　it　helped　his　discipline　to　act　as　though　he　had　just　risen　from　a　deep　and　long　sleep。　　He　had；　in　fact；　taken　a　cat　nap　lasting　for　less　than　an　hour。　　Over　the　years　he　had　learned　the　art　of　sleeping；　even　on　his　feet；　for　an　accurate　amount　of　time：　drawing　from　this　a　new　energy　as　though　he　had　taken　a　full　eight　hours　of　refreshment。
　
　He　shaved　and　dressed　…　slacks；　a　white　sea　island　cotton　shirt；　soft　espadrilles　and　blazer　…　in　his　usual　time；　then　went　through　the　small　living　room　into　the　tiny　kitchen　where　he　carefully　cooked　his　normal　breakfast；　or　near　enough　his　normal　breakfast　…　the　best　meal　of　the　day；　and　the　most　important　he　always　considered。
　
　the　coffee　was　not　his　much　beloved　De　Bry　brewed　in　an　American　Chemex；　but　it　was　near　enough　and　brewed　in　an　earthenware　jug。　　He　had　managed　to　lay　his　hands　on　Cooper's　Vintage　Marmalade；　wholewheat　bread　for　his　toast　and　eggs　very　similar　to　the　ones　from　French　Marans　hens。　Unhappily　there　was　none　of　the　deep　yellow　Jersey　butter；　but　he　found　the　local　variety　very　much　to　his　taste。
　
　He　took　his　time　over　the　two　cups　of　coffee；　the　egg　boiled　for　exactly　three　and　one　third　minutes　and　his　slices　of　toast
　
　He　sat　for　a　full　hour　after　eating。　　It　was　now　almost　four　o'clock　in　the　morning　and　the　day　ahead　promised　some　action；　though　that　niggling　little　worry　remained　hidden　at　the　back　of　his　head。　　He　had　returned　to　it　time　and　again　duri