if.themanwiththegoldengun-第16部分

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　The　scream　of　terror　and　the　explosion　were　simultaneous。　A　chair　crashed　to　the　floor　and　there　was　a　moment's　silence。　Then　someone　coughed　nervously。　Mr。　Gengerella　said　calmly；　〃I　think　that　was　the　correct　solution　of　an　embarrassing　conflict　of　interests。　Ruby's　friends　in　Vegas　like　a　quiet　life。　I　doubt　if　they　will　even　plain。　It　is　better　to　be　a　live　owner　of　some　finely　engraved　paper　than　to　be　a　dead　holder　of　a　second　mortgage。　Put　them　in　for　a　million；　Pistol。　I　think　you　behaved　with　speed　and　correctness。　Now　then；　can　you　clean　this　up？〃
　〃Sure；　sure。〃　Scaramanga's　voice　was　relaxed；　happy。　〃Ruby's　left　here　to　go　back　to　Vegas。　Never　heard　of　again。　We　don't　know　nuthin'。　I've　got　some　hungry　crocs　out　back　there　in　the　river。　They'll　give　him　free　transportation　to　where　he's　going…and　his　baggage　if　it's　good　leather。　I　shall　need　some　help　tonight。　What　about　you；　Sam？　And　you；　Louie？〃
　The　voice　of　Mr。　Paradise　pleaded。　〃Count　me　out；　Pistol。　I'm　a　good　Catholic。〃
　Mr。　Hendriks　said；　〃I　will　take　his　place。　I　am　not　a　Catholic　person。〃
　〃So　it　be　then。　Well；　fellers；　any　other　business？　If　not；　we'll　break　up　the　meeting　and　have　a　drink。〃
　Hal　Garfinkel　said　nervously；　〃Just　a　minute；　Pistol。　What　about　that　guy　outside　the　door？　That　limey　feller？　What's　he　going　to　say　about　the　fireworks　and　all？〃
　Scaramanga's　chuckle　was　like　the　dry　chuckle　of　a　gekko。　〃Just　don't　you　worry　your　liny　head　about　the　limey；　Hal。　He'll　be　looked　after　when　the　weekend's　over。　Picked　him　up　in　a　bordello　in　a　village　nearby。　Place　where　I　go　get　my　weed　and　a　bit　of　local　tail。　Got　only　temporary　staff　here　to　see　you　fellers　have　a　good　tune　over　the　weekend。　He's　the　temporariest　of　the　lot。　Those　crocs　have　a　big　appetite。　Ruby'll　be　the　main　dish；　but　they'll　need　a　dessert。　Just　you　leave　him　to　me。　For　all　I　know　he　may　be　this　James　Bond　man　Mr。　Hendriks　has　told　us　about。　I　should　worry。　I　don't　like　limeys。　Like　some　good　Yankee　once　said；　'For　every　Britisher　that　dies；　there's　a　song　in　my　heart。'　Remember　the　guy？　Around　the　time　of　the　Israeli　war　against　them。　I　dig　that　viewpoint。　Stuck…up　bastards。　Stuffed　shirts。　When　the　time　es；　I'm　going　to　let　the　stuffing　out　of　this　one。　Just　you　leave　him　to　me。　Or　let's　just　say　leave　him　to　this。〃
　Bond　smiled　a　thin　smile。　He　could　imagine　the　golden　gun　being　produced　and　twirled　round　the　finger　and　stuck　back　in　the　waistband。　He　got　up　and　moved　his　chair　away　from　the　door　and　poured　champagne　into　the　useful　glass　and　leant　against　the　buffet　and　studied　the　latest　handout　from　the　Jamaica　Tourist　Board。
　The　click　of　Scaramanga's　passkey　sounded　in　the　lock。　Scaramanga　looked　at　Bond　from　the　doorway。　He　ran　a　finger　along　the　small　moustache。　〃Okay；　fellow。　I　guess　that's　enough　of　the　house　champagne。　Cut　along　to　the　manager　and　tell　him　Mr。　Ruby　Rotkopf'll　be　checking　out　tonight。　I'll　fix　the　details。　And　say　a　major　fuse　blew　during　the　meeting　and　I'm　going　to　seal　off　this　room　and　find　out　why　we're　having　so　much　bad　workmanship　around　the　place。　Okay？　Then　drinks　and　dinner　and　bring　on　the　dancing　girls。　Got　the　picture？〃
　James　Bond　said　that　he　had。　He　weaved　slightly　as　he　went　to　the　lobby　door　and　unlocked　it。　E。&　O。E。　（errors　and　omissions　excepted）　as　the　financial　prospectuses　say；　he　thought　that　he　had　indeed　now　〃got　the　picture。〃　And　it　was　an　exceptionally　clear　print　in　black　and　white　without　fuzz。
　
　10
　Belly…Lick；　etc。
　
　In　the　back　office；　James　Bond　went　quickly　over　the　highlights　of　the　meeting。　Nick　Nicholson　and　Felix　Leiter　agreed　they　had　enough　on　the　tape；　supported　by　Bond；　to　send　Scaramanga　to　the　chair。　That　night；　one　of　them　would　do　some　snooping　while　the　body　of　Rotkopf　was　being　disposed　of　and　try　and　get　enough　evidence　to　have　Garfinkel　and；　better　still；　Hendriks　indicted　as　accessories。　But　they　didn't　at　all　like　the　outlook　for　James　Bond。　Felix　manded　him；　〃Now　don't　you　move　an　inch　without　that　old　equalizer　of　yours。　We　don't　want　to　have　to　read　that　obituary　of　yours　in　The　Times　all　over　again。　All　that　crap　about　what　a　great　guy　you　are　nearly　made　me　throw　up　when　I　saw　it　picked　up　in　our　papers。　I　damn　nearly　fired　off　a　piece　to　the　Trib　putting　the　record　straight。〃
　Bond　laughed。　He　said；　〃You're　a　fine　friend；　Felix。
　When　I　think　of　all　the　trouble　I've　been　to　to　set　you　a　good　example　all　these　years。〃　He　went　off　to　his　room；　swallowed　two　heavy　slugs　of　bourbon；　had　a　cold　shower；　and　lay　on　his　bed　and　looked　at　the　ceiling　until　it　was　8：30　and　time　for　dinner。　The　meal　was　less　stuffy　than　luncheon。　Everyone　seemed　satisfied　with　the　way　the　business　of　the　day　had　gone；　and　all　except　Scaramanga　and　Mr。　Hendriks　had　obviously　had　plenty　to　drink。　Bond　found　himself　excluded　from　the　happy　talk。　Eyes　avoided　his　and　replies　to　his　attempts　at　conversation　were　monosyllabic。　He　was　bad　news。　He　had　been　dealt　the　death　card　by　the　boss。　He　was　certainly　not　a　man　to　be　pally　with。
　Dinner…the　conventional　〃expensive〃　dinner　of　a　cruise　ship…was　as　predictable　as　such　things　usually　are。　The　waiters　brought　on　the　desiccated　smoked　salmon　with　a　thimbleful　of　small…grained　black　caviar；　fillets　of　some　unnamed　native　fish　（possibly　silk　fish）　in　a　cream　sauce；　a　〃poulet　supreme〃　（a　badly　roasted　broiler　with　a　thick　gravy）；　and　the　bombe　surprise。　And　while　the　meal　moved　sluggishly　on；　the　dining…room　was　being　turned　into　a　〃tropical　jungle〃　with　the　help　of　potted　plants；　piles　of　oranges　and　coconuts；　and　an　occasional　stem　of　bananas　…this　was　a　backdrop　for　the　calypso　band；　which；　in　wine…red　and　gold…frilled　shirts　assembled　in　due　course　and　began　playing　〃Linstead　Market〃　too　loud。　The　tune　closed。　An　acceptable　but　heavily　clad　girl　appeared　and　began　singing　〃Belly…Lick〃　with　the　printable　words。　She　wore　a　false　pineapple　as　a　headdress。　Bond　saw　a　〃cruise　ship〃　evening　stretching　ahead。　He　decided　that　he　was　either　too　old　or　too　young　for　the　worst　torture　of　all；　boredom；　and　got　up　and　went　to　the　head　of　the　table。　He　said　to　Scaramanga；　〃I've　got　a　headache。　I'm　going　to　bed。〃
　Scaramanga　looked　up　at　him　under　lizard　eyelids。　〃No。　If　you　figure　the　evening's　not　going　so　good；　make　it　go　better。　That's　what　you're　being　paid　for。　You　act　as　if　you　know　Jamaica。　Okay。　Get　those　people　off　the　pad。〃
　It　was　many　years　since　James　Bond　had　accepted　a　dare。　He　felt　the　eyes　of　The　Group　on　him。　What　he　had　drunk　had　made　him　careless…perhaps　wanting　to　show　off；　like　the　man　at　the　party　who　insists　on　playing　the　drums。　Stupidly；　he　wanted　to　assert　his　personality　over　this　bunch　of　tough　guys　who　rated　him　insignificant。　He　didn't　stop　to　think　that　it　was　bad　tactics；　that　he　would　be　better　off　being　the　ineffectual　limey。　He　said；　〃All　right；　Mr。　Scaramanga。　Give　me　a　hundred　dollar　bill　and　your　gun。〃
　Scaramanga　didn't　move。　He　looked　up　at　Bond　with　surprise　and　controlled　uncertainty。　Louie　Paradise　shouted　thickly；　〃C'mon；　Pistol！　Let's　see　some　action！　Maybe　the　guy　can　produce。〃
　Scaramanga　reached　for　his　hip　pocket；　took　out　his　billfold；　and　thumbed　out　a　bill。　Next　he　slowly　reached　to　his　waistband　and　took　out　his　gun。　The　subdued　light　from　the　spot　on　the　girl　glowed　on　its　gold。　He　laid　the　two　objects　on　the　table　side　by　side。　James　Bond；　his　back　to　the　cabaret；　picked　up　the　gun　and　hefted　it。　He　thumbed　back　the　hammer　and　twirled　the　cylinder　with　a　flash　of　his　hands　to　verify　that　it　was　loaded。　Then　he　suddenly　whirled；　dropped　on　his　knee　so　that　his　aim　would　be　above　the　shadowy　musicians　in　the　background；　and；　his　arm　at　full　length；　let　fly。　The　explosion　was　deafening　in　the　confined　space。　The　music　died。　There　was　a　tense　silence。　The　remains　of　the　false　pineapple　hit　something　in　the　dark　background　with　a　soft　thud。　The　girl　stood　under　the　spot　and　put　her　hands　up　to　her　face　and　slowly　folded　to　the　dance　floor　like　something　graceful　out　of　Swan　Lake。　The　maitre　d'hotel　came　running　from　among　the　shadows。
　As　chatter　broke　out　among　The　Group；　James　Bond　picked　up　the　hundred　dollar　bill　and　walked　out　into　the　spotlight。　He　bent　down　and　lifted　the　girl　up　bv　her　arm。　He　pushed　the　bill　down　into　her　cleavage。　He　said；　〃That　was　a　fine　act　we　did　together；　sweetheart。　Don't　worry。　You　were　in　no　danger。　I　aimed　for　the　top　half　of　the　pineanple。　Now　run　off　and　get　ready　for　your　next　turn。〃　He　turned　her　round　and　gave　her　a　sharp　pat　in　the　behind。　She　gave　him　a　horrified　glance　and　scurried　off　into　the　shadows。
　Bond　strolled　on　and　came　up　with　the　band。　〃Who's　in　charge　here？　　Who's　in　mand　of。　the　show？〃
　The　guitarist；　a　tall；　gaunt　Negro；　got　slowly　to　his　feet。　The　whites　of　his　eyes　showed；　He　squinted　at　the　golden　gun　in　Bond's　hand。　He　said　uncertainly；　as　if　signing　his　own　death　warrant；　〃Me；　sah。〃
　〃What's　your　name？〃　　
　〃Kong　Tiger；　sah。〃
　〃All　right　then；　King。　Now　listen　to　me。　This　isn't　a　Salvation　Army　fork　supper。　Mr。　Scaramanga's　friends　want　some　action。　And　they　want　it　hot。　I'll　be　sending　plenty　of　rum　over　to　loosen　things　up。　Smoke　weed　if　you　like。　We're　private　here。　No　one's　going　to　tell　on　you。　And　get　that　pretty　girl　back；　but　with　only　half　the　clothes　on；　and　tell　her　to　e　up　close　and　sing。　〃Belly…Lick〃　very　clearly　with　the　blue　words。　And；　by　the　end　of　the　show；　she　and　the　other　girls　have　got　to　end　up　stripped。　Understand？　Now　get　cracking；　or　the　evening'll　fold　and　there'll　be　no　tips　at　the　end。　Okay？　Then　let's　go。〃
　There　was　nervous　laughter　and　whispered　exhortation　to　King　Tiger　from　the　six…piece　bo。　King　Tiger　grinned　broadly。　〃Okay；　captain；　sah。　We　was　just　holding　off　until　the　party　got　warmed　up　a　little。　He　turned　to　his　men。　〃Give　'em　Iron　Bar；　but　hot。　And　I'll　go　get　some　steam　up　with　Daisy　and　her　friends。〃　He　strode　to　the　service　exit　and　the　band　crashed　into　its　stride。
　Bond　walked　back　and　laid　the　pistol　down　in　front　of　Scaramanga；　who　gave　Bond　a　long；　inquisitive　look　and　slid　it　back　into　his　waistband。　He　said　flatly；　〃We　must　have　a　shooting　match　one　of　these　days；　mister。　How　about　it？　Twenty　paces　and　no　wounding？〃
　〃Thanks；〃　said　Bond；　〃but　my　mother　wouldn't　approve。　Would　yo