johngardner.goldeneye-第8部分

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n　French；　rapidly　repeated　in　English；　German　and　Italian。
　
　Discreetly；　Bond　moved　through　the　invited　guests　and　managed　to　find　a　seat　on　the　very　edge　of　the　viewing　platform　as　the　mentary　continued　〃What　you　are　going　to　see　is　a　demonstration　of　Europes　addition　to　modern　warfare：　the　first　working　prototype　of　the　Tigre　helicopter。　　Uniquely　manoeuvrable；　the　Tigre　helicopter　not　only　uses　the　latest　in　Stealth　technology；　but　also　it　is　the　only　helicopter　to　be　hardened　against　all　forms　of　electronic　interference；　radio　jamming　and　electromagnetic　radiation。　　Now；　the　Tigre's　test　crew　are　ready。
　
　Let　me　introduce　you　to　Lieutenant…mander　Bernard　Jaubert　and　Lieutenant　Fran~ois　Brouse。〃　The　band　struck　up　〃Those　Magnificent　Men　in　their　Flying　Machines'；　and　two　figures　appeared　from　the　crew　room　which　was　obviously　situated　somewhere　to　their　right　on　the　port　side。
　
　They　were　already　in　flight　coveralls；　with　helmets　in　place；　and　when　they　came　into　Bond's　line　of　vision　as　they　reached　the　helicopter；　he　felt　a　lurch　of　recognition。
　
　The　pilot　was　slightly　built；　but　he　could　identify　the　walk　anywhere：　the　cat…like　tread　of　Xenia　Onatopp。
　
　There　was　a　pause　of　maybe　three　seconds　as　the　two　figures　swarmed　up　the　ladder　taking　them　to　the　long　domed　canopy。　　They　were　about　to　settle　into　the　cockpit　and　electronics　station　when　Bond　leaped　to　his　feet　and　lunged　forward；　heading　straight　towards　the　helicopter。
　
　There　were　a　couple　of　screams　and　some　shouts。
　
　Bandsmen　were　scattered；　and　he　had　almost　reached　the　edge　of　the　pad　before　several　brawny　Naval　Police　grabbed　him。
　
　〃Stop　them！〃　he　yelled。　　〃They're　not　your　crew！　Stop　！〃　He　was　thrown　to　the　deck　struggling；　while　the　police　held　him　down。　　He　sucked　in　air　and　began　to　shout　again；　but　was　drowned　out　by　the　Tigre's　engines。
　
　An　officer　had　joined　them　and　was　mouthing　something　at　him；　but　his　hearing　was　blanked　off　by　the　thunder　from　the　chopper。
　
　He　threw　one　of　his　captors　off　and　battled　his　way　to　his　feet；　still　restrained　by　the　other　three　as　he　watched　the　machine　take　off；　lifting　very　fast　and　then　going　into　an　almost　impossible　Rate　Fiv　turn；　something　you　did　not　see　helicopters　do　as　a　rule。　　There　was　a　scatter　of　applause　from　the　assembled　dignitaries　as　the　helicopter　pointed　its　nose　towards　the　sky　and　climbed　with　a　speed　that　seemed　to　match　some　jet　fighters；　then　it　fell　away；　doing　a　perfect　Immelman　Turn；　and　at　that　moment　a　white…faced　naval　policeman　came　running　up；　almost　babbling　at　the　officer　…〃They're　dead。〃　He　was　breathless。
　
　〃In　the　crew　room；　sir。　　The　flight　crew're　dead。　　The　Lieutenant　mander's　been　shot。　　Lieutenant　Brouse　has　had　his　throat　cut！〃　The　officer　looked　around　him；　as　though　he　were　searching　for　some　way　to　reverse　the　facts　he　was　hearing。
　
　In　the　distance　the　engine　noise　of　the　Tigre　was　getting　fainter。
　
　〃You　are　part　of　some　plot。〃　He　stubbed　a　finger　into　Bond's　chest　〃Who　are　you？〃
　〃mander　Bond；　Royal　Navy。　　Intelligence。　　I　was　trying　to　warn　you。
　〃But　who　the　hell。。　？〃
　〃Janus；'　Bond　mouthed；　his　eyes　hard　and　his　face　set　as　though　carved　in　hard　stone。　　〃The　Russian　Janus　Crime　Syndicate。〃
　〃So；　the　Janus　Crime　Syndicate？〃　M　raised　an　eyebrow　and　looked　across　her　desk　at　Bond。
　
　M's　office　had　changed　beyond　belief　since　Bond's　old　Chief　had　retired。　There　was　no　rich　smell　of　his　pipe；　no　soft　leather　chairs；　no　hint　of　the　Old　Man's　brilliant　career　in　the　Royal　Navy。　　The　new　M　had　brought　with　her　the　sterility　of　the　current　technocracy。　　The　furniture　was　almost　a　parody　of　high　tech　office　fittings。　　There　was　a　Scandinavian　influence：　posture　improving　chairs；　her　own　chair　which　was　not　a　chair　but　something　into　which　you　appeared　to　contort　your　body。
　
　The　black　desk　held　no　clutter　but　for　the　very　large　puter　monitor　and　a　moveable　lamp　plus；　naturally；　several　colour　coded　telephones。　　M　glanced　up　at　Bond　and　fixed　him　with　a　long　serious　look。　　She　wore　a　severe　black　business　suit；　her　hair　was　styled　very　short；　almost　a　thin　cap　on　her　scalp；　at　her　neck　was　one　piece　of　jewellery：　a　single　white　on　blue　cameo　brooch；　clasped　high　on　her　blouse。
　
　Looking　at　her　eyes；　Bond　thought　of　the　old　joke　about　the　bank　manager　with　one　glass　eye。　　People　could　always　tell　which　was　the　glass　one　because　it　was　the　eye　that　showed　passion。
　
　〃So；　you　say　Janus？〃　She　was　all　business；　even　brusque。
　〃I　think　it　follows；　ma'am。　　A　known　Janus　confidante；　Ms　Onatopp；　a　yacht　belonging　to　a　known　Janus　front。　　A　disappearing　American　admiral。　　〃Who　you　say　is　dead。〃
　〃I　saw　the　body。　　He　was　very　dead。〃
　〃It's　a　shade　too　pat　for　my　liking。〃
　〃You　mean　Janus　is　a　little　ham…fisted；　leaving　their　pawmarks　all　over　the　place？〃
　〃Precisely。　　The　yacht　had　long　gone　before　any　authorities　could　get　near。　　Gone；　Bond。　　Vanished；　Bond；　as　though　it　had　never　been。。。。　〃But　there　is　a　harbour　record　that　it　was　there。　　The　criminal　organisations　of　the　new　Russia　are　not　known　for　their　subtlety；　Ma'am。〃　She　looked　up　at　him　to　see　if　he　was　being　frivolous；　but　his　face　did　not　betray　his　thoughts。　　The　woman　could　take　nothing　at　face　value。　　He　found　her　constantly　querying　undeniable　facts。　Perhaps　this　was　her　background；　for　she　was　an　analyst　at　heart；　a　wrangler；　a　detector　of　deceit　through　columns　of　figures。　　Since　she　had　taken　over；　almost　everyone　within　the　Service　spoke　of　her　as　the　Evil　Queen　of　Numbers　and　many　said　she　should　really　have　been　assigned　to　the　Inland　Revenue　Service's　Special　Office。　　Within　two　days　of　her　appointment；　Bill　Tanner　the　old　M's　faithful　Chief　of　Staff　…　had　almost　resigned　when　his　title　was　changed　to　Senior　Analyst
　
　〃Yes；　indeed；　the　Tigre　its　a　wonderful　thing；　and　it　also　vanished　from　the　face　of　the　earth。　　Any　ideas　on　that；　mander　Bond？〃
　〃That's　its　function　in　life；　Ma'am。　　The　Tigre's　entire　purpose　is　to　be　invisible。　〃Yes；　but。。
　
　〃But　half　the　French　airforce　were　scrambled；　every　tracking　station　was　put　on　alert？　　Yes；　about　twenty　minutes　after　it　was　stolen。　　I　have　my　theory　on　how　that　little　trick　was　acplished。〃
　〃How？〃
　〃With　what　that　thing　carries；　it　can　remain　invisible；　except　to　the　naked　eye；　for　up　to　twenty…four　hours。　　I　think　the　thieves　simply　put　the　chopper　down　in　some　deserted　area　…　not　difficult　in　the　Alps　…　and　camouflaged　it；　waiting　until　nightfall　and　for　the　search　to　go　cold。
　
　Then　they　simply　took　off　again　and　did　the　trip　in　easy　stages。
　
　M　thought　about　this　for　some　time；　her　brow　wrinkled；　fingers　drumming　on　the　desk。　　〃We've　done　all　we　can　to　track　the　thing。
　
　Every　last　piece　of　electronic　listening　and　satellite　surveillance　has　the　profile。　　It　can't　hide　for　ever。
　
　Bond　wanted　to　say　something　like；　〃You　want　to　bet？〃　but　controlled　his　urge　as　she　nodded　…　a　gesture　of　terse　dismissal。
　
　He　was　almost　at　the　door　when　a　sudden　buzz　on　M's　inter　slowed　him　down。
　
　〃They've　found　the　helicopter；　the　Tigre。〃　Moneypenny　sounded　breathless。　　〃They　would　like　you　to　e　down　to　the　Operations　Room　as　soon　as　possible。　　Mr。　Tanner　says　it　is　somewhat　urgent。〃
　〃You　go　ahead；　007。〃　M　had　already　begun　to　busy　herself　at　the　desk。　〃I'll　be　down　shortly。〃
　〃Typical；'　he　thought；　but　acknowledged　the　instruction　calmly。　　〃Where　have　they　found　the　damned　thing？〃　he　asked　himself。
　
　His　intuition　told　him　that　the　Operations　Room　had　unpleasant　news　in　store；　but　he　had　no　idea　of　how　serious　the　situation　would　really　turn　out　to　be。
　
　Some　fifty　miles　inland　from　the　furthest　tip　of　northern　Russia　where　the　land　spits　out　into　the　Arctic　Ocean；　there　is　a　ruin　that　was　once　Severnaya　Station；　an　operational　control　post　for　some　of　the　Soviet　Union's　most　terrifying　weapons　of　mass　destruction。　　The　ground　around　the　area　is　for　the　most　part　flat；　and　usually　strewn　with　ice　and　snow　for　most　of　the　year。
　
　About　half…an…hour　before　Bond　was　summoned　to　the　Operations　Room　at　the　headquarters　of　the　Secret　Intelligence　Service　in　London；　a　sled；　drawn　by　four　dogs；　bounced　and　rolled　its　way　towards　the　little　parcel　of　ruined　buildings。　　The　man　who　stood　at　the　back　of　the　sled　was　a　Yuit　Eskimo；　and　he　came　from　the　small　settlement　close　to　what　had　once　been　a　whole　village；　some　two　miles　from　Severnaya　Station。
　
　After　the　people　had　e　to　build　the　now　ruined　station；　many　of　the　Yuit　had　died　from　diseases　brought　by　the　strangers。　　Only　the　hardy　ones　remained；　now　four　families　were　left　in　the　settlement。
　
　They　merely　wanted　to　live　as　their　people　had　always　lived；　so　they　had　made　themselves　useful　to　the　strangers　just　as　he　was　doing　by　travelling　to　the　nearest　township　and　collecting　artifacts　which　he　could　sell　when　the　troglodytes　came　up　from　under　the　ground；　which　they　did　every　six　months　or　so。
　
　The　Yuit　was　very　tired：　anxious　to　see　his　family　again　for　the　entire　trip　had　taken　the　best　part　of　a　week。
　
　Though　he　would　never　know　it；　the　accident　occurred　because　of　his　fatigue　and　the　pace　at　which　he　ran　the　dogs。　　He　did　not　even　see　the　boulder　peeping　from　the　slick　ground。　　The　lead　dog　saw　the　danger　a　fraction　too　late；　swerved　to　avoid　the　obstacle　and　swung　the　sled　into　an　impossible　turn。　　The　runners　hit　the　boulder　off　centre　and　the　driver　was　thrown　hard　against　a　cluster　of　rocks　and　ice。
　
　Even　with　the　layers　of　fur　and　the　big　hood　he　wore；　the　man　broke　several　bones　including　his　neck。　　He　tried　to　move　but　could　not　even　stir　for　the　pain。　　He　lay　there　in　the　snow；　with　the　dogs　whining　and…　clustering　around　him。　　He　made　a　supreme　effort；　one　last　great　push　through　the　agony；　attempting　to　get　up。　　This　last　action　killed　him　and　he　dropped　back　onto　the　ground；　a　little　bundle　of　fur。
　
　The　dogs　gathered　around　him　for　a　while；　as　though　trying　to　give　their　master　some　warmth　to　revive　him。
　
　After　ten　minutes　or　so　they　sat　down　and　waited。　　Eventually　the　lead　dog　would　guide　them　back　to　the　tiny　settlement；　but　for　the　moment　they　kept　a　vigil　over　their　dead　master。　　Nobody　could　know　how　this　accident　and　t