johngardner.goldeneye-第7部分

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ing　little　worry　remained　hidden　at　the　back　of　his　head。　　He　had　returned　to　it　time　and　again　during　the　night；　but　it　remained　as　elusive　as　a　four…leafed　clover。
　
　Before　leaving　the　villa　he　packed　and　readied　himself　for　a　fast　getaway；　for　he　was　reasonably　certain　that；　whatever　lay　in　store　for　him　today；　M　was　likely　to　summon　him　back　to　London　before　long。
　
　Eventually　he　went　down　to　the　short　wooden　jetty　and　made　ready　to　cast　off。　　He　wanted　his　timing　to　be　as　accurate　as　possible　for　he　planned　to　hide　in　plain　sight　among　the　other　yachts　and　small　craft　which　usually　dotted　the　waters　around　Monte　Carlo　from　first　light。
　
　Joining　the　pleasure　seekers　and　lotus　eaters　of　the　area；　he　would　simply　be　one　small　craft　among　many。
　
　It　was　after　five　in　the　morning　when　he　finally　cast　off　and　set　a　course　out　to　sea；　for　he　wanted　to　sail　in　a　wide　circle；　ing　inshore　only　at　the　last　moment。
　
　The　trip　was　uneventful；　and；　as　expected；　he　found　himself　in　the　pany　of　yachts；　sail　boats　and　motor　launches　by　around　nine…thirty。
　
　Manticore　rode　at　anchor　in　the　same　position　as　she　had　done　during　the　previous　evening　so　he　circled　the　long　sleek　seagoing　yacht　at　a　distance；　his　eyes　raking　the　ship　for　signs　of　life。　　By　nine　forty…five　he　saw　the　tender　being　readied　on　the　starboard　side　…　the　side　nearest　the　harbour　exit　to　the　sea。　　He　also　noted　that　Manticore　had　a　second　small　motorboat；　in　the　water；　riding　off　the　stern。
　
　Gently　he　manoeuvred　his　craft　around　to　the　port　side；　bringing　her　close　in　to　the　yacht　which　had　a　line　draped　over　the　side　amidships；　presumably　to　be　ready　should　the　tender　or　motorboat　decide　to　e　inboard　on　the　port　side。
　
　He　grabbed　at　the　line　and　took　the　strain。　　It　was　firmly　secured　on　the　deck　and　strong　enough　for　him　to　climb　with　no　difficulty；　so　he　tied　up　his　own　little　sailboat　and　heaved　himself　up　the　curving　flank　of　Manticore；　nimbly　vaulting　over　the　rail；　stopping　still　and　silent　the　moment　his　feet　touched　the　deck。
　
　He　could　hear　the　sounds　of　orders　being　issued；　and　the　grumble　of　the　tender's　engines　from　the　starboard　side。　　Whoever　crewed　the　vessel　was　well　occupied　over　there　so　he　slipped　forward；　heading　towards　the　main　saloon。
　
　Inside；　the　saloon　was　decorated　with　style　and　its　fittings　and　furniture　were　there　for　fort　…　a　long　bar　taking　up　the　length　of　one　side；　deep　leather　armchairs　scattered　around　the　entire　room　which　stretched　the　width　of　the　ship。　　Paintings　of　obvious　value　were　set　under　lights　on　the　walls；　and　there　was　a　wide　passageway　running　from　the　saloon　forward　on　the　port　side。
　
　Silently；　Bond　moved　along　the　passage　until　he　came　to　an　ornate　sliding　carved　wooden　door。　　Gently　he　tried　the　handle。　　The　door　swung　open；　and　he　slipped　inside；　closing　it　behind　him。　　He　was　in　a　bedroom　given　over　to　sensuality：　a　mirrored　ceiling；　erotica　on　the　walls　and　the　scent　of　death　reaching　his　nostrils　before　he　saw　the　shattered　body　on　the　bed。
　
　The　ports　were　open；　but　the　ining　breeze　did　nothing　to　disperse　the　odour　he　had　smelled　too　many　times　in　his　life；　and　there；　sprawled　hideously　on　the　bed；　was　the　naked　and　broken　body　of　Rear　Admiral　Chuck　Farrel。　　In　death　his　face　was　not　in　repose。　　The　eyes　were　fixed　on　his　reflection　in　the　mirror　above　the　bed；　his　mouth　contorted　in　a　wide　open　grimace　as　though　he　had　died　in　some　kind　of　revolting　ecstasy。
　
　There　seemed　to　be　music　drifting　into　this　bizarre　scene；　and　it　took　a　moment　for　Bond　to　realise　that　it　was　floating　in　from　the　French　warship　he　had　noted　both　last　night　and　on　his　way　into　the　harbour　that　morning。
　
　He　could　see　the　ship　dressed　overall　through　one　of　the　ports。
　
　He　could　also　see　Manticore's　tender　rapidly　crossing　the　stretch　of　sea　towards　the　French　ship；　and　in　the　tender　were　two　people：　Xenia　Onatopp　and　the　admiral　who　lay　dead　in　front　of　his　eyes。
　
　The　band　on　the　French　naval　vessel　was　playing　a　selection　of　sea　shanties　and；　as　he　peered　out；　he　saw　the　outline　of　the　helicopter。
　
　In　that　moment；　the　fact　for　which　his　mind　had　been　searching　since　the　previous　night　came　into　focus。　　He　felt　the　blood　drain　from　his　face　and　his　lips　automatically　formed　one　word　…　Tigre！〃
　〃Of　course；'　he　whispered　to　himself　as　all　the　pieces　slotted　into　place。　〃Of　course；　Tigre！〃　He　did　not　even　hear　the　door　open　behind　him　as　his　brain　made　several　lightning　calculations。
　
　The　Tigre's　A　Wonderful　Thing　There　were　two　of　them；　dressed　like　deck　hands　in　striped　T…shirts　with　Manticore　across　the　front；　black　bellbottomed　slacks　and　soft　shoes。　　As　Bond　turned；　he　did　not　see　them　as　deck　hands。　　He　recognised　the　type。
　
　Hoodlums。　　Trained　hoodlums；　the　kind　the　bad　old　KGB　used　way　back　then；　in　their　Boyevaya　Gruppa　…　their　〃bat　gangs'　that　dispensed　broken　legs　and　bullets　through　the　backs　of　heads。　　One　stood　three　steps　inside　the　stateroom；　the　other　took　one　pace　inside；　moving　behind；　and　to　his　r。ade's　left。
　
　In　the　back　of　his　mind　Bond　baptised　them。　　Tub　o'　Lard　was　three　steps　in；　while　Big　Muscle　was　behind。
　
　〃e　for　the　body；　have　you？〃　As　he　spoke；　Bond　feinted　to　the　right；　trying　to　bring　Big　Muscle　forward。
　
　It　had　the　desired　effect　and　he　came　fast　as　Bond　jumped　to　his　left；　sticking　out　his　right　leg；　catching　the　oning　man's　ankle。
　
　Momentum　carried　Big　Muscle　forward　so　that　he　landed；　at　speed；　head　first　against　the　foot　of　the　bed。
　
　By　this　time；　Bond　had　grappled　with　Tub　o'　Lard；　a　head　shorter；　heavier；　fatter　version　of　the　same　species　as　Big　Muscle；　going　close　in　and　grasping　with　both　hands　at　the　man's　left　wrist；　bringing　his　left　knee　up　hard　into　the　groin　so　that　the　thug　gave　a　gurgle　of　pain　and　doubled　over。
　
　〃Makes　your　eyes　water；　doesn't　it？〃　He　jerked　with　all　his　strength　on　Tub　o'　Lard's　left　arm；　heard　the　bone　crack　out　of　joint　in　the　shoulder；　ducked　under　the　now　useless　limb；　bringing　it　up　to　the　middle　of　the　man's　back；　bending　him　even　further　forward　and　hoping　to　blazes　that　there　were　not　any　more　like　him　within　earshot　because　Tub　o'　Lard　was　now　screaming　with　agony；　great　schoolboy　bellows　of　pain　interspersed　with　Russian　oaths。
　
　Bond　positioned　the　man　so　that　his　head　pointed　directly　at　his　partner　who　had　managed　to　get　to　his　feet；　dazed　a　little；　but　turning　in　on　Bond　as　he　grappled　with　the　screaming；　doubled　up；　incapacitated　assailant。　　He　let　go　of　the　wrist；　stepped　back　and　brought　the　hard　leading　edge　of　his　right　hand　down　in　a　heavy　chop　to　the　back　of　Tub　o'　Lard's　neck。　　There　was　a　whoof　of　pain　which　seemed　to　e　from　deep　within　his　victim　who　crumpled　up　and　would　have　collapsed　onto　the　state…room　floor　if　Bond　had　not　caught　him　by　his　belt　and　the　neck　of　his　T…shirt；　using　him　as　a　battering　ram；　hurling　the　body　head　first　directly　at　Big　Muscle's　face。
　
　The　bullet　head　caught　Big　Muscle；　covering　a　large　amount　of　territory。　The　various　crunches　came；　Bond　thought；　from　nose；　right　cheek…bone　and　mouth。　　There　was　quite　a　lot　of　blood。　　There　was　also　loss　of　consciousness　for　both　of　them。
　
　〃You　should　really　try　to　stay　ahead　of　the　game；　he　muttered；　turning　and　leaving　the　stateroom　at　speed。　　If　this　did　concern　the　Tigre　helicopter　sitting　on　the　pad　which　was　the　stern　of　the　French　vessel；　he　would　have　little　time　to　spare。
　
　Manticore　was　obviously　operating　with　a　skeleton　crew　or　some　of　her　crew　must　be　ashore；　for　there　was　nobody　else　on　deck。　　Bond　raced　to　the　stern　and　pulled　at　the　line　which　reached　out　to　the　motorboat　he　had　seen　on　his　way　in。
　
　It　took　time　to　get　the　little　craft　inboard　on　the　starboard　side。　Time　and　a　lot　of　sweat；　but　eventually　she　was　there　and　he　was　able　to　slip　down　the　ladder　and　jump　into　the　cockpit。
　
　The　engine　started　immediately；　at　the　first　try；　and　he　swung　the　boat　away　from　Manticore；　pointed　it　in　the　direction　of　the　French　ship；　opened　the　throttle　to　full　power　and；　with　some　relief；　felt　the　craft　leap　forward　and　begin　to　bump　across　the　water。
　
　As　he　came　closer　to　the　warship；　he　could　make　out　the　crowd　gathering　into　a　series　of　raked　seats　which　had　been　arranged　facing　the　stern　and　the　helicopter。　　The　machine　looked　like　a　larger　and　more　chunky　version　of　the　old　Cheyenne　with　a　big　bulbous　nose；　a　long；　sleek　cockpit　canopy　and　bigger　stubby　wings　from　which　hung　a　very　mixed　bag　of　weapons　…　rockets　mainly；　though　above　the　wing　a　couple　of　large　calibre　machine　guns　took　care　of　any　close…in　firing。
　
　He　should　have　thought　about　this　sooner：　the　file　had　been　on　his　desk　before　leaving　for　the　evaluation　in　the　field。　　The　Tigre；　still　officially　classified；　France's　advanced　piece　of　flying　hardware；　was　to　be　shown　off　to　a　load　of　bigwigs　whom　the　French　Navy　were　hosting　at　an　all…expenses…paid　junket　in　Monte　Carlo。
　
　When　he　reached　the　side　of　the　ship；　Bond　had　to　wait　in　line　while　two　other　tenders　discharged　officers　and　their　wives。
　
　In　the　main　they　were　in　uniform　and　were　obviously　naval　or　air　attach~s　or　visiting　high~ranking　diplomats。
　
　Finally；　he　climbed　the　ladder　and　flashed　his　official　card　at　the　young　sub。lieutenant。　　〃mander　Bond。
　
　Royal　Navy　Intelligence；'　he　snapped　as　though　he　would　personally　rip　the　nose　off　anyone　who　doubted　him。　　The　young　officer　did　not　even　query　him　as　he　turned　towards　the　quarterdeck　and　saluted。
　
　He　was　walking　towards　the　stern；　eyes　everywhere　looking　for　Ms　Onatopp　and　her　〃Admiral'；　but　they　seemed　to　have　disappeared；　or　were　out　of　view　on　the　port　side。　　On　the　helicopter　pad　the　Tigre's　big　engines　started　up；　then　were　eased　back　into　idle；　the　main　rotor　blades　turning　lazily　as　a　ground　crew　member　climbed　down　from　the　high　canopy。
　
　He　was　about　to　find　some　way　across　when　there　was　a　familiar　click　from　the　public　address　system　and　a　voice　began　an　official　wele　〃Ladies　and　gentlemen；　we　are　about　to　begin　the　demonstration　of　this　extraordinary　aircraft。〃　The　announcement　was　in　French；　rapidly　repeated　in　English；　German　and　Italian。
　
　Discreetly；　Bond　moved　through　the