if.themanwiththegoldengun-第7部分

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　on　the　buff　envelope。　In　this　heat　they　would　dry　out　in　a　matter　of　minutes。　He　went　out　and　sauntered　over　to　the　stand。　There　was　no　one　in　sight。　He　slipped　the　message　back　into　its　place　under　〃S〃　and　walked　over　to　the　Aeronaves　de　Mexico　booth　and　cancelled　his　reservation。　He　then　went　to　the　BOAC　counter　and　looked　through　the　timetable。　Yes；　the　Luna　flight　for　Kingston；　New　York　and　London　was　due　in　at　13：15　the　next　day。　He　was　going　to　need　help。　He　remembered　the　name　of　Head　of　Station　J。　He　went　over　to　the　telephone　booth　and　got　through　to　the　High　missioner's　Office。　He　asked　for　mander　Ross。　After　a　moment　a　girl's　voice　came　on　the　line。　〃mander　Ross's　assistant。　Can　I　help　you？〃
　There　was　something　vaguely　familiar　in　the　lilt　of　the　voice。　Bond　said；　〃Could　I　speak　to　mander　Ross？　This　is　a　friend　from　London。〃
　The　girl's　voice　became　suddenly　alert。　〃I'm　afraid　mander　Ross　is　away　from　Jamaica。　Is　there　anything　I　can　do？〃　There　was　a　pause。　〃What　name　did　you　say？〃
　〃I　didn't　say　any　name。　But　in　fact　it's。　。　。　。〃
　The　voice　broke　in　excitedly。　〃Don't　tell　me。　It's　James！〃
　Bond　laughed。　〃Well　I'm　damned！　It's　Goodnight！　What　the　hell　are　you　doing　here？〃
　〃More　or　less　what　I　used　to　do　for　you。　I　heard　you　were　back；　but　I　thought　you　were　ill　or　something。　How　absolutely　marvellous！　But　where　are　you　talking　from？〃
　〃Kingston　Airport。　Now　listen；　darling。　I　need　help。　We　can　talk　later。　Can　you　get　cracking？〃
　〃Of　course。　Wait　till　I　get　a　pencil。　Right。〃
　〃First　I　need　a　car。　Anything　that'll　go。　Then　I　want　the　name　of　the　top　man　at　Frome；　you　know；　the　WISCO　estate　beyond　Savannah　La　Mar。　Large…scale　survey　map　of　that　area；　a　hundred　pounds　in　Jamaican　money。　Then　be　an　angel　and　ring　up　Alexander's　the　auctioneers　and　find　out　anything　you　can　about　a　property　that's　advertised　in　today's　Gleaner。　Say　you're　a　prospective　buyer。　Three…and…a…half　Love　Lane。　You'll　see　the　details。　Then　I　want　you　to　e　out　to　Morgan's　Harbour　where　I'm　going　in　a　minute；　be　staying　the　night　there；　and　we'll　have　dinner　and　swop　secrets　until　the　dawn　steals　over　the　Blue　Mountains。　Can　do？〃
　〃Of　course。　But　that's　a　hell　of　a　lot　of　secrets。　What　shall　I　wear？〃
　〃Something　that's　tight　in　the　right　places。　Not　too　many　buttons。〃
　She　laughed。　〃You've　established　your　identity。　Now　I'll　get　on　with　all　this。　See　you　about　seven。　'Bye。〃
　Gasping　for　air；　James　Bond　pushed　his　way　out　of　the　little　sweatbox。　He　ran　his　handkerchief　over　his　face　and　neck。　He'd　be　damned！　Mary　Goodnight；　his　darling　secretary　from　the　old　days　in　the　Double…O　Section！　At　Headquarters　they　had　said　she　was　abroad。　He　hadn't　asked　any　questions。　Perhaps　she　had　opted　for　a　change　when　he　had　gone　missing。　Anyway；　what　a　break！　Now　he'd　got　an　ally；　someone　he　knew。　Good　old　Gleaner！　He　got　his　bag　from　the　Aeronaves　de　Mexico　booth　and　went　out　and　hailed　a　taxi　and　said　〃Morgan's　Harbour〃　and　sat　back　and　let　the　air　from　the　open　windows　begin　to　dry　him。
　The　romantic　little　hotel　is　on　the　site　of　Port　Royal　at　the　tip　of　the　Palisadoes。　The　proprietor；　an　Englishman　who　had　once　been　in　Intelligence　himself　and　who　guessed　what　Bond's　job　was；　was　glad　to　see　him。　He　showed　Bond　to　a　fortable　air…conditioned　room　with　a　view　of　the　pool　and　the　wide　mirror　of　Kingston　Harbour。　He　said；　〃What　is　it　this　time？　Cubans　or　smuggling？　They're　the　popular　targets　these　days。〃
　〃Just　on　my　way　through。　Got　any　lobsters？〃
　〃Of　course。〃
　〃Be　a　good　chap　and　save　two　for　dinner。　Broiled　with　melted　butter。　And　a　pot　of　that　ridiculously　expensive　foie　gras　of　yours。　All　right？〃
　〃Wilco。　Celebration？　Champagne　on　the　ice？〃
　〃Good　idea。　Now　I　must　get　a　shower　and　some　sleep。　That　Kingston　Airports　murder。〃
　James　Bond　awoke　at　six。　At　first　he　didn't　know　where　he　was。　He　lay　and　remembered。　Sir　James　Molony　had　said　that　his　memory　would　be　sluggish　for　a　while。　The　E。C。T。　treatment　at　The　Park；　a　discreet　so…called　〃convalescent　home〃　in　a　vast　mansion　in　Kent；　had　been　fierce。　Twenty…four　bashes　at　his　brain　from　the　black　box　in　thirty　days。　After　it　was　over；　Sir　James　had　confessed　that；　if　he　had　been　practising　in　America；　he　wouldn't　have　been　allowed　to　administer　more　than　eighteen。　At　first；　Bond　had　been　terrified　at　the　sight　of　the　box　and　of　the　two　cathodes　that　would　be　cupped　to　each　temple。　He　had　heard　that　people　undergoing　shock　treatment　had　to　be　strapped　down；　that　their　jerking；　twitching　bodies；　impelled　by　the　volts；　often　hurtled　off　the　operating　table。　But　that；　it　seemed；　was　old　hat。　Now　there　was　the　longed…for　needle　with　the　pentathol；　and　Sir　James　said　there　was　no　movement　of　the　body　when　the　current　flashed　through　except　a　slight　twitching　of　the　eyelids。　And　the　results　had　been　miraculous。　After　the　pleasant；　quiet…spoken　analyst　had　explained　to　him　what　had　been　done　to　him　in　Russia；　and　after　he　had　passed　through　the　mental　agony　of　knowing　what　he　had　nearly　done　to　M。；　the　old　fierce　hatred　of　the　K。G。B。　and　all　its　works　had　been　reborn　in　him；　and；　six　weeks　after　he　had　entered　The　Park；　all　he　wanted　was　to　get　back　at　the　people　who　had　invaded　his　brain　for　their　own　murderous　purposes。　And　then　had　e　his　physical　rehabilitation　and　the　inexplicable　amount　of　gun　practice　he　had　had　to　do　at　the　Maidstone　police　range。　And　then　the　day　arrived　when　the　Chief　of　Staff　had　e　down　and　spent　the　day　briefing　Bond　on　his　new　assignment。　The　reason　for　the　gun　practice　became　clear。　And　the　scribble　of　green　ink　wishing　him　luck　…signed　〃M。〃…boosted　his　spirits。　Two　days　later　he　was　ready　to　enjoy　the　excitement　of　the　ride　to　London　airport　on　his　way　across　the　world。
　Bond　took　another　shower　and　dressed　in　shirt；　slacks；　and　sandals　and　wandered　over　to　the　little　bar　on　the　waterfront　and　ordered　a　double　Walker's　deluxe　bourbon　on　the　rocks　and　watched　the　pelicans　diving　for　their　dinner。　Then　he　had　another　drink　with　a　water　chaser　to　break　it　down　and　wondered　about　Three…and…a…half　Love　Lane　and　what　the　〃samples〃　would　consist　of　and　how　he　would　take　Scaramanga。　This　had　been　worrying　him　since　he　had　been　given　his　orders。　It　was　all　very　fine　to　be　told　to　〃eliminate〃　the　man；　but　James　Bond　had　never　liked　killing　in　cold　blood　and　to　provoke　a　draw　against　a　man　who　was　possibly　the　fastest　gun　in　the　world　was　suicide。　Well；　he　would　just　have　to　see　which　way　the　cards　fell。　The　first　thing　to　do　was　to　clean　up　his　cover。　The　diplomatic　passport　he　would　leave　with　Goodnight。　He　would　now　be　〃Mark　Hazard〃　of　the　〃Transworld　Consortium；〃　the　splendidly　vague　title　which　could　cover　almost　any　kind　of　human　activity。　His　business　would　have　to　be　with　the　West　Indian　Sugar　pany　because　that　was　the　only　business；　apart　from　Kaiser　Bauxite；　that　existed　in　the　paratively　deserted　western　districts　of　Jamaica。　And；　at　Negril；　there　was　also　the　project　for　developing　one　of　the　most　spectacular　beaches　in　the　world；　beginning　with　the　building　of　the　Thunderbird　Hotel。　He　could　be　a　rich　man　looking　around　for　a　building　site。　If　his　hunch　and　the　childish　predictions　of　his　horoscope　were　right；　and　he　came　up　with　Scaramanga　at　the　romantic　Love　Lane　address；　it　would　be　a　question　of　playing　it　by　ear。
　The　prairie　fire　of　the　sunset　raged　briefly　in　the　west　and　the　molten　sea　cooled　off　into　moonlit　gunmetal。
　A　naked　arm　smelling　of　Chanel　Number　5　snaked　round　his　neck　and　warm　lips　kissed　the　corner　of　his　mouth。　As　he　reached　up　to　hold　the　arm　where　it　was；　a　breathless　voice　said；　〃Oh；　James！　I'm　sorry。　I　just　had　to！　It's　so　wonderful　to　have　you　back。〃
　Bond　put　his　hand　under　the　soft　chin　and　lifted　up　her　mouth　and　kissed　her　full　on　the　half…open　lips。　He　said；　〃Why　didn't　we　ever　think　of　doing　that　before；　Goodnight？　Three　years　with　only　that　door　between　us！　What　must　we　have　been　thinking　of？〃
　She　stood　away　from　him。　The　golden　bell　of　hair　fell　back　to　embrace　her　neck。　She　hadn't　changed。　Still　only　the　faintest　trace　of　makeup；　but　now　the　face　was　golden　with　sunburn　from　which　the　wide…apart　blue　eyes；　now　ablaze　with　the　moon；　shone　out　with　that　challenging　directness　that　had　disconcerted　him　when　they　had　argued　over　some　office　problem。　Still　the　same　glint　of　health　over　the　good　bones　and　the　broad　uninhibited　smile　from　the　full　lips　that；　in　repose；　were　so　exciting。　But　now　the　clothes　were　different。　Instead　of　the　severe　shirt　and　skirt　of　the　days　at　Headquarters；　she　was　wearing　a　single　string　of　pearls　and　a　one…piece　short…skirted　frock　in　the　colour　of　a　pink　gin　with　a　lot　of　bitters　in　it…the　orangey…pink　of　the　inside　of　a　conch　shell。　It　was　all　tight　against　the　bosom　and　the　hips。　She　smiled　at　his　scrutiny。　〃The　buttons　are　down　the　back。　This　is　standard　uniform　for　a　tropical　Station。〃
　〃I　can　just　see　Q　Branch　dreaming　it　up。　I　suppose　one　of　the　pearls　has　a　death　pill　in　it。〃
　〃Of　course。　But　I　can't　remember　which。　I'll　just　have　to　swallow　the　whole　string。　Can　I　have　a　daiquiri　please　instead？〃
　Bond　gave　the　order。　〃Sorry；　Goodnight。　My　manners　are　slipping。　I　was　dazzled。　It's　so　tremendous　finding　you　here。　And　I've　never　seen　you　in　your　working　clothes　before。　Now　then；　tell　me　the　news。　Where's　Ross？　How　long　have　you　been　here？　Have　you　managed　to　cope　with　all　that　junk　I　gave　you？〃
　Her　drink　came。　She　sipped　it　carefully。　Bond　remembered　that　she　rarely　drank　and　didn't　smoke。　He　ordered　another　for　himself　and　felt　vaguely　guilty　that　this　was　his　third　double　and　that　she　wouldn't　know　it　and　when　it　came　wouldn't　recognize　it　as　a　double。　He　lit　a　cigarette。　Nowadays　he　was　trying　to　keep　to　twenty　and　failing　by　about　five。　He　stabbed　the　cigarette　out。　He　was　getting　near　to　his　target；　and　the　rigid　training　rules　that　had　been　drilled　into　him　at　The　Park　must　from　now　on　be　observed　meticulously。　The　champagne　wouldn't　count。　He　was　amused　by　the　conscience　this　girl　had　awakened　in　him。　He　was　also　surprised　and　impressed。
　Mary　Goodnight　knew　that　the　last　question　was　the　one　he　would　want　answered　first。　She　reached　into　a　plain　straw　handbag　on　a　gold　metal　chain　and　handed　him　a　thick　envelope。　She　said；　〃Mostly　in　used　singles。　A　few　fiver