if.themanwiththegoldengun-第14部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


agne　except　Mr。　Hendriks；　who　stood　away　from　the　group　and　nursed　a　Schweppes　Bitter　Lemon。　Bond　moved　among　the　men。　He　made　small　talk　about　their　flight；　the　weather　in　the　States；　the　beauties　of　Jamaica。　He　wanted　to　fit　the　voices　to　the　names。　He　gravitated　towards　Mr。　Hendriks。　〃Seems　we're　the　only　two　Europeans　here。　Gather　you're　from　Holland。　Often　passed　through。　Never　stayed　there　long。　Beautiful　country。〃
　The　very　pale　blue　eyes　regarded　Bond　unenthusiastically。　〃Sank　you。〃
　〃What　part　do　you　e　from？〃
　〃Den　Haag。〃
　〃Have　you　lived　there　long？〃
　〃Many；　many　years。〃
　〃Beautiful　town。〃
　〃Sank　you。〃
　〃Is　this　your　first　visit　to　Jamaica？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃How　do　you　like　it？〃　〃It's　a　beautiful　place。〃
　Bond　nearly　said　〃Sank　you。〃　He　smiled　encouragingly　at　Mr。　Hendriks　as　much　as　to　say；　〃I've　made　all　the　running　so　far。　Now　you　say　something。〃
　Mr。　Hendriks　looked　past　Bond's　right　ear　at　nothing。　The　pressure　of　the　silence　built　up。　Mr。　Hendriks　shifted　his　weight　from　one　foot　to　the　other　and　finally　broke　down。　His　eyes　shifted　and　looked　thoughtfully　at　Bond。　〃And　you。　You　are　from　London；　isn't　it？〃　〃Yes。　Do　you　know　it？〃　〃I　have　been　there；　yes。〃　〃Where　do　you　usually　stay？〃　There　was　hesitation。　〃With　friends。〃　〃That　must　be　convenient。〃　〃Pliss？〃
　〃I　mean　it's　pleasant　to　have　friends　in　a　foreign　town。　Hotels　are　so　much　alike。〃
　〃I　have　not　found　this。　Excuse　pliss。〃　With　a　Germanic　bob　of　the　head；　Mr。　Hendriks　moved　decisively　away　from　Bond　and　went　up　to　Scaramanga；　who　was　still　lounging　in　solitary　splendour　at　the　bar。　Mr。　Hendriks　said　something。　His　words　acted　like　a　mand　on　the　other　man。　Scaramanga　straightened　himself　and　followed　Mr。　Hendriks　into　a　far　corner　of　the　room。　He　stood　and　listened　with　deference　as　Mr。　Hendriks　talked　rapidly　in　a　low　tone。
　Bond；　joining　the　other　men；　was　interested。　It　was　his　guess　that　no　other　man　in　the　room　could　have　buttonholed　Scaramanga　with　so　much　authority。　He　noticed　that　many　fleeting　glances　were　cast　in　the　direction　of　the　couple　apart。　For　Bond's　money；　this　was　either　the　Mafia　or　K。G。B。　Probably　even　the　other　five　wouldn't　know　which；　but　they　would　certainly　recognize　the　secret　smell　of　The　Machine；　which　Mr。　Hendriks　exuded　so　strongly。
　Luncheon　was　announced。　The　Jamaican　headwaiter　hovered　between　two　richly　prepared　tables。　There　were　place　cards。　Bond　found　that；　while　Scaramanga　was　host　at　one　of　them；　he　himself　was　at　the　head　of　the　other　table　between　Mr。　Paradise　and　Mr。　Rotkopf。　As　he　expected；　Mr。　Paradise　was　the　better　value　of　the　two；　and　as　they　went　through　the　conventional　shrimp　cocktail；　steak；　fruit　salad　of　the　Americanized　hotel　abroad；　Bond　cheerfully　got　himself　involved　in　an　argument　about　the　odds　at　roulette　when　there　are　one　zero　or　two。　Mr。　Rotkopf　s　only　contribution　was　to　say；　through　a　mouthful　of　steak　and　French　fries；　that　he　had　once　tried　three　zeros　at　the　Black　Cat　Casino　in　Miami　but　that　the　experiment　had　failed。　Mr。　Paradise　said　that　so　it　should　have。　〃You　got　to　let　the　suckers　win　sometimes；　Ruby；　or　they　won't　e　back。　Sure；　you　can　squeeze　the　juice　out　of　them；　but　you　oughta　leave　them　the　pips。　Like　with　my　slots。　I　tell　the　customers；　don't　be　too　greedy。　Don't　set　'em　at　thirty　percent　for　the　house。　Set　'em　at　twenty。　You　ever　heard　of　Mr。　J。　P。　Morgan　turning　down　a　net　profit　of　twenty　percent？　Hell；　no！　So　why　try　and　be　smarter　than　guys　like　that？〃
　Mr。　Rotkopf　said　sourly；　〃You　got　to　make　big　profits　to　put　against　a　bum　steer　like　this。〃　He　waved　a　hand。　〃If　you　ask　me〃…he　held　up　a　bit　of　steak　on　Ms　fork…　〃you're　eating　the　only　money　you're　going　to　see　out　of　this　dump　at　this　minute。〃
　Mr。　Paradise　leaned　across　the　table　and　said　softly；　〃You　know　something？〃
　Mr。　Rotkopf　said；　〃I　always　told　my　money　that　the　bindweed　would　get　this　place。　The　damn　fools　wouldn't　listen。　And　look　where　we　are　in　three　years！　Second　mortgage　nearly　run　out；　and　we've　only　got　one　storey　up。　What　I　say　is。　。　。　。〃
　The　argument　went　off　into　the　realms　of　high　finance。　At　the　next…door　table　there　was　not　even　this　amount　of　animation。　Scaramanga　was　a　man　of　few　words。　There　were　clearly　none　available　for　social　occasions。　Opposite　him；　Mr。　Hendriks　exuded　a　silence　as　thick　as　Gouda　cheese。　The　three　hoods　addressed　an　occasional　glum　sentence　to　anyone　who　would　listen。　James　Bond　wondered　how　Scaramanga　was　going　to　electrify　this　unpromising　pany　into　〃having　a　good　time。〃
　Luncheon　broke　up；　and　the　pany　dispersed　to　their　rooms。　James　Bond　wandered　round　to　the　back　of　the　hotel　and　found　a　discarded　shingle　on　a　rubbish　dump。　It　was　blazing　hot　under　the　afternoon　sun；　but　the　Doctor's　Wind　was　blowing　in　from　the　sea。　For　all　its　air…conditioning；　there　was　something　grim　about　the　impersonal　grey　and　white　of　Bond's　bedroom。　Bond　walked　along　the　shore；　took　off　his　coat　and　tie；　and　sat　in　the　shade　of　a　bush　of　sea　grapes　and　watched　the　fiddler　crabs　about　their　minuscule　business　in　the　sand　while　he　whittled　two　chunky　wedges　out　of　the　Jamaican　cedar。　Then　he　closed　his　eyes　and　thought　about　Mary　Goodnight。　She　would　now　be　having　her　siesta　in　some　villa　on　the　outskirts　of　Kingston。　It　would　probably　be　high　up　in　the　Blue　Mountains　for　the　coolness。　In　Bond's　imagination；　she　would　be　lying　on　her　bed　under　a　mosquito　net。　Because　of　the　heat；　she　would　have　nothing　on；　and　one　could　see　only　an　ivory…and…gold　shape　through　the　fabric　of　the　net。　But　one　would　know　that　there　were　small　beads　of　sweat　on　her　upper　lip　and　between　her　breasts；　and　the　fringes　of　the　golden　hair　would　be　damp。　Bond　took　off　his　clothes　and　lifted　up　the　corner　of　the　mosquito　net；　not　wanting　to　wake　her　until　he　had　fitted　himself　against　her　thighs。　But　she　turned；　in　half…sleep；　towards　turn　and　held　out　her　arms。　〃James。　。　。　。〃
　Under　the　sea…grape　bush；　a　hundred　and　twenty　miles　away　from　the　scene　of　the　dream；　James　Bond's　had　came　up　with　a　jerk。　He　looked　quickly；　guiltily；　at　his　watch。　Three…thirty。　He　went　off　to　his　room　and　had　a　cold　shower；　verified　that　his　cedar　wedges　would　do　what　they　were　meant　to　do；　and　strolled　down　the　corridor　to　the　lobby。
　The　manager　with　the　neat　suit　and　neat　face　came　out　from　behind　his　desk。　〃Er；　Mr。　Hazard。〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃I　don't　think　you've　met　my　assistant；　Mr。　Travis。〃
　〃No；　I　don't　think　I　have。〃
　〃Would　you　care　to　step　into　the　office　for　a　moment　and　shake　him　by　the　hand？〃
　〃Later　perhaps。　We've　got　this　conference　on　in　a　few　minutes。〃
　The　neat　man　came　a　step　closer。　He　said　quietly；　〃He　particularly　wants　to　meet　you；　Mr。…er…Bond。〃
　Bond　cursed　himself。　This　was　always　happening　in　his　particular　trade。　You　were　looking　in　the　dark　for　a　beetle　with　red　wings。　Your　eyes　were　focused　for　that　particular　pattern　on　the　bark　of　the　tree。　You　didn't　notice　the　moth　with　cryptic　colouring　that　crouched　quietly　nearby；　itself　like　a　piece　of　the　bark；　itself　just　as　important　to　the　collector。　The　focus　of　your　eyes　was　too　narrow。　Your　mind　was　too　concentrated。　You　were　using　1　by　100　magnification；　and　your　1　by　10　was　not　in　focus。　Bond　looked　at　the　man　with　the　recognition　that　exists　between　crooks；　between　homosexuals；　between　secret　agents。　It　is　the　look　mon　to　men　bound　by　secrecy…by　mon　trouble。　〃Better　make　it　quick。〃
　The　neat　man　stepped　behind　his　desk　and　opened　a　door。　Bond　went　in；　and　the　neat　man　closed　the　door　behind　them。　A　tall；　slim　man　was　standing　at　a　filing　cabinet。　He　turned。　He　had　a　lean；　bronzed　Texan　face　under　an　unruly　mop　of　straight；　fair　hair；　and；　instead　of　a　right　hand；　a　bright　steel　hook。　Bond　stopped　in　his　tracks。　His　face　split　into　a　smile　broader　than　he　had　smiled　for　what？　Was　it　three　years　or　four？　He　said；　〃You　goddamned　lousy　crook。　What　in　hell　are　you　doing　here？〃　He　went　up　to　the　man　and　hit　him　hard　on　the　biceps　of　the　left　arm。
　The　grin　was　slightly　more　creased　than　Bond　remembered；　but　it　was　just　as　friendly　and　ironical。　〃Mr。　Travis〃　said；　〃The　name　is　Leiter；　Mr。　Felix　Leiter。　Temporary　accountant　on　loan　from　Morgan　Guaranty　Trust　to　the　Thunderbird　Hotel。　We're　just　checking　up　on　your　credit　rating；　Mr。　Hazard。　Would　you　kindly；　in　your　royal　parlance；　extract　your　finger；　and　give　me　some　evidence　that　you　are　who　you　claim　to　be？〃
　
　9
　Minutes　of　the　Meeting
　
　James　Bond；　almost　lightheaded　with　pleasure；　picked　up　a　handful　of　travel　literature　from　the　front　desk；　said　〃Hi'〃　to　Mr　Gengerella；　who　didn't　reply；　and　followed　him　into　the　conference　room　lobby。　They　were　the　last　to　show。　Scaramanga；　beside　the　open　door　to　the　conference　room；　looked　pointedly　at　his　watch　and　said　to　Bond　〃Okay；　feller。　Lock　the　door　when　we're　all　settled　and　don't　let　anyone　in　even　if　the　hotel　catches　fire。　He　turned　to　the　barman　behind　the　buffet。　〃Get　lost　Joe。　I'll　call　for　you　later。〃　He　said　to　the　room；　〃Right。　We're　all　set。　Let's　go。〃　He　led　the　way　into　the　conference　room　and　the　six　men　followed。　Bond　stood　by　the　door　and　noted　the　seating　order　round　the　table　He　closed　the　door　and　locked　it　and　quickly　also　locked　the　exit　from　he　lobby。　Then　he　picked　up　a　champagne　glass　from　the　buffet；　pulled　over　a　chair；　and　sited　the　chair　very　close　to　the　door　of　the　conference　room。　He　placed　the　bowl　of　the　champagne　glass　as　near　as　possible　to　a　hinge　of　the　door；　and　holding　the　glass　by　the　stem；　put　his　left　ear　up　against　its　base。　Through　the　crude　amplifier；　what　had　been　the　rumble　of　a　voice　became　Mr。　Hendriks　speaking；　〃。。。　and　so　it　is　that　I　will　now　report　from　my　superiors　in　Europe。　。　。　。〃　The　voice　paused　and　Bond　heard　another　noise；　the　creak　of　a　chair。　Like　lightning　he　pulled　his　chair　back　a　few　feet；　opened　one　of　the　travel　folders　on　his　lap；　and　raised　the　glass　to　his　lips。　The　door　jerked　open　and　Scaramanga　stood　in　the　opening；　twirling　his　passkey　on　a　chain。　He　examined　the　innocent　figure　on　the　chair。　He　said；　〃Okay；　feller。　Just　checking；〃　and　kicked　the　door　shut。
　Bond　noisily　locked　it　and　took　up　his　place　again。　Mr。　Hendriks　said；　〃I　have　one　most　important　message　for　our　chairman。　It　is　from　a　sure　source。　There　is　a　man　that　is　called　James　Bond　tha