if.themanwiththegoldengun-第24部分

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　15
　Crab…meat
　
　The　cough　sounded　about　twenty　yards　away；　towards　the　river。　Bond　dropped　to　one　knee；　his　senses　questing　like　the　antennae　of　an　insect。　He　waited　five　minutes。　When　the　cough　was　not　repeated；　he　crept　forwards　on　hands　and　knees；　his　gun　gripped　between　his　teeth。
　In　a　small　clearing　of　dried；　cracked　black　mud；　he　saw　the　man。　He　stopped　in　his　tracks；　trying　to　calm　his　breathing。
　Scaramanga　was　lying　stretched　out；　his　back　supported　by　a　clump　of　sprawling　mangrove　roots。　His　hat　and　his　high　stock　had　gone；　and　the　whole　of　the　right…hand　side　of　his　suit　was　black　with　blood　upon　which　insects　crawled　and　feasted。　But　the　eyes　in　the　controlled　face　were　still　very　much　alive。　They　swept　the　clearing　at　regular　intervals；　questing。　Scaramanga's　hands　rested　on　the　roots　beside　him。　There　was　no　sign　of　a　gun。
　Scaramanga's　face　suddenly　pointed；　like　a　retriever's；　and　the　roving　scrutiny　held　steady。　Bond　could　not　see　what　had　caught　his　attention；　but　then　a　patch　of　the　dappled　shadow　at　the　edge　of　the　clearing　moved　and　a　large　snake；　beautifully　diamonded　in　dark　and　pale　brown；　zigzagged　purposefully　across　the　black　mud　towards　the　man。
　Bond　watched；　fascinated。　He　guessed　it　was　a　boa　of　the　Epicrates　family；　attracted　by　the　smell　of　blood。　It　was　perhaps　five　feet　long　and　quite　harmless　to　man。　Bond　wondered　if　Scaramanga　would　know　this。　He　was　immediately　put　out　of　his　doubt。　Scaramanga's　expression　had　not　changed；　but　his　right　hand　crept　softly　down　his　trouser　leg；　gently　pulled　up　the　cuff；　and　removed　a　thin；　stiletto…style　knife　from　the　side　of　his　short　Texan　boot。　Then　he　waited；　the　knife　held　ready　across　his　stomach；　not　clenched　in　his　fist；　but　pointed　in　the　flick…knife　fashion。　The　snake　paused　for　a　moment　a　few　yards　from　the　man　and　raised　its　head　high　to　give　him　a　final　inspection。　The　forked　tongue　licked　out　inquisitively；　again　and　again；　then；　still　with　its　head　held　above　the　ground；　it　moved　slowly　forward。
　Not　a　muscle　moved　in　Scaramanga's　face。　Only　the　eyes　were　dead…steady；　watchful　slits。　The　snake　came　into　the　shadow　of　his　trouser　leg　and　moved　slowly　up　towards　the　glistening　shirt。　Suddenly　the　tongue　of　steel　that　lay　across　Scaramanga's　stomach　came　to　life　and　leaped。　It　transfixed　the　head　of　the　snake　exactly　in　the　centre　of　the　brain　and　pierced　through　it；　pinning　it　to　the　ground　and　holding　it　there　while　the　powerful　body　thrashed　wildly；　seeking　a　grip　on　the　mangrove　roots；　on　Scaramanga's　arm。　But　immediately；　when　it　had　a　grip；　its　convulsions　released　its　coils　which　flailed　off　in　another　direction。
　The　death　struggles　diminished　and　finally　ceased　altogether。　The　snake　lay　motionless。　Scaramanga　was　careful。　He　ran　his　hand　down　the　full　length　of　the　snake。　Only　the　tip　of　the　tail　lashed　briefly。　Scaramanga　extracted　the　knife　from　the　head　of　the　snake；　cut　off　its　head　with　a　single　hard　stroke；　and　threw　it；　after　reflection；　accurately　towards　a　crab　hole。　He　waited；　watching；　to　see　if　a　crab　would　e　out　and　take　it。　None　did。　The　thud　of　the　arrival　of　the　snake's　head　would　have　kept　any　crab　underground　for　many　minutes；　however　enticing　the　scent　of　what　had　made　the　thud。
　James　Bond；　kneeling　in　the　bush；　watched　all　this；　every　nuance　of　it；　with　the　most　careful　attention。　Each　one　of　Scaramanga's　actions；　every　fleeting　expression　on　his　face；　had　been　an　index　of　the　man's　awareness　of　his　aliveness。　The　whole　episode　of　the　snake　was　as　revealing　as　a　temperature　chart　or　a　lie　detector。　In　Bond's　judgment；　Scaramanga；　for　all　his　blood…letting　and　internal　injuries；　was　still　very　much　alive。　He　was　still　a　most　formidable　and　dangerous　man。
　Scaramanga；　his　task　satisfactorily　pleted；　minutely　shifted　his　position；　and；　once　again；　made　his　penetrating　examination　of　the　surrounding　bush。
　As　Scaramanga's　gaze　swept　by　him　without　a　flicker；　Bond　blessed　the　darkness　of　his　suit…a　black　patch　of　shadow　among　so　many　others。　In　the　sharp　blacks　and　whites　from　the　midday　sun；　Bond　was　well　camouflaged。
　Satisfied；　Scaramanga　picked　up　the　limp　body　of　the　snake；　laid　it　across　his　stomach；　and　carefully　slit　it　down　its　underside　as　far　as　the　anal　vent。　Then　he　scoured　it　and　carefully　etched　the　skin　away　from　the　red…veined　flesh　with　the　precise　flicks　and　cuts　of　a　surgeon。　Every　scrap　of　unwanted　reptile　he　threw　towards　crab　holes；　and；　with　each　throw；　a　flicker　of　annoyance　crossed　the　granite　face　that　no　one　would　e　and　pick　up　the　crumbs　from　the　rich　man's　table。　When　the　meal　was　ready；　he　once　again　scanned　the　bush；　and　then；　very　carefully；　coughed　and　spat　into　his　hand。　He　examined　the　results　and　flung　his　hand　sideways。　On　the　black　ground；　the　sputum　made　a　bright　pink　scrawl。　The　cough　didn't　seem　to　hurt　him　or　cause　him　much　effort。　Bond　guessed　that　his　bullet　had　hit　Scaramanga　in　the　right　chest　and　had　missed　a　lung　by　a　fraction。　There　was　haemorrhage　and　Scaramanga　was　a　hospital　case；　but　the　blood…soaked　shirt　was　not　telling　the　whole　truth。
　Satisfied　with　his　inspection　of　his　surroundings；　Scaramanga　bit　into　the　body　of　the　snake　and　was　at　once；　like　a　dog　with　its　meal；　absorbed　by　his　hunger　and　thirst　for　the　blood　and　juices　of　the　snake。
　Bond　had　the　impression　that　if　he　now　came　forward　from　his　hiding　place　Scaramanga；　like　a　dog；　would　bare　his　teeth　in　a　furious　snarl。　He　got　quietly　up　from　his　knees；　took　out　his　gun；　and；　his　eyes　watching　Scaramanga's　hands；　strolled　out　into　the　centre　of　the　little　clearing。
　Bond　was　mistaken。　Scaramanga　did　not　snarl。　He　barely　looked　up　from　the　cut…off　length　of　snake　in　his　two　hands　and；　his　mouth　full　of　meat；　said；　〃You've　been　a　long　while　ing。　Care　to　share　my　meal？〃
　〃No　thanks。　I　prefer　my　snake　grilled　with　hot　butter　sauce。　Just　keep　on　eating。　I　like　to　see　both　hands　occupied。〃
　Scaramanga　sneered。　He　gestured　at　his　blood…stained　shirt。　〃Frightened　of　a　dying　man？　You　limeys　e　pretty　soft。〃
　〃The　dying　man　handled　that　snake　quite　efficiently。　Got　any　more　weapons　on　you？〃　Scaramanga　moved　to　undo　his　coat。　〃Steady！　No　quick　movements。　Just　show　your　belt；　armpits；　pat　the　thighs　inside　and　out。　I'd　do　it　myself　only　I　don't　want　what　the　snake　got。　And　while　you're　about　it；　just　toss　the　knife　into　the　trees。　Toss。　No　throwing；　if　you　don't　mind。　My　trigger　finger's　been　getting　a　bit　edgy　today。　Seems　to　want　to　go　about　its　business　on　its　own。　Wouldn't　like　it　to　take　over。　Yet；　that　is。〃
　Scaramanga；　with　a　flick　of　his　wrist；　tossed　the　knife　into　the　air。　The　sliver　of　steel　spun　like　a　wheel　in　the　sunshine。　Bond　had　to　step　aside。　The　knife　pierced　the　mud　where　Bond　had　been　standing　and　stood　upright。　Scaramanga　gave　a　harsh　laugh。　The　laugh　turned　into　a　cough。　The　gaunt　face　contorted　painfully。　Too　painfully？　Scaramanga　spat　red；　but　not　all　that　red。　There　could　be　only　slight　haemorrhage。　Perhaps　a　broken　rib　or　two。　Scaramanga　could　be　out　of　hospital　in　a　couple　of　weeks。　Scaramanga　put　down　his　piece　of　snake　and　did　exactly　as　Bond　had　told　him；　all　the　while　watching　Bond's　face　with　his　usual　cold；　arrogant　stare。　He　finished　and　picked　up　the　piece　of　snake　and　began　gnawing　it。　He　looked　up。　〃Satisfied？〃
　〃Sufficiently。〃　Bond　squatted　down　on　his　heels。　He　held　his　gun　loosely；　aiming　somewhere　halfway　between　the　two　of　them。　〃Now　then；　let's　talk。　Afraid　you　haven't　got　too　much　time；　Scaramanga。　This　is　the　end　of　the　road。　You've　killed　too　many　of　my　friends。　I　have　the　licence　to　kill　you　and　I　am　going　to　kill　you。　But　I'll　make　it　quick。　Not　like　Margesson。　Remember　him？　You　put　a　shot　through　both　of　his　knees　and　both　of　his　elbows。　Then　you　made　him　crawl　and　kiss　your　boots。　You　were　foolish　enough　to　boast　about　it　to　your　friends　in　Cuba。　It　got　back　to　us。　As　a　matter　of　interest；　how　many　men　have　you　killed　in　your　life？〃
　〃With　you；　it'll　make　the　round　fifty。〃　Scaramanga　had　gnawed　the　last　segment　of　backbone　clean。　He　tossed　it　towards　Bond。　〃Eat　that；　scum；　and　get　on　with　your　business。　You　won't　get　any　secrets　out　of　me；　if　that's　the　pitch。　And　don't　forget。　I've　been　shot　at　by　experts　and　I'm　still　alive。　Maybe　not　precisely　kicking；　but　I've　never　heard　of　a　limey　who'd　shoot　a　defenceless　man　who's　badly　wounded。　They　haven't　got　the　guts。　We'll　just　sit　here；　chewing　the　fat；　until　the　rescue　team　es。　Then　I'll　be　glad　to　go　for　trial。　What'll　they　get　me　for；　eh？〃
　〃Well；　just　for　a　start；　there's　that　nice　Mr。　Rotkopf　with　one　of　your　famous　silver　bullets　in　his　head　in　the　river　back　of　the　hotel。〃
　〃That'll　match　with　the　nice　Mr。　Hendriks　with　one　of　your　bullets　somewhere　behind　his　face。　Maybe　we'll　serve　a　bit　of　time　together。　That'd　be　nice；　wouldn't　it？　They　say　the　jail　at　Spanish　Town　has　all　the　forts。　How　about　it；　limey？　That's　where　you'll　be　found　with　a　shiv　in　your　back　in　the　sack…sewing　department。　And　by　the　same　token；　how　d'you　know　about　Rotkopf？〃
　〃Your　bug　was　bugged。　Seems　you're　a　bit　accident…prone　these　days；　Scaramanga。　You　hired　the　wrong　security　men。　Both　your　managers　were　from　the　C。I。A。　The　tape'll　be　on　the　way　to　Washington　by　now。　That's　got　the　murder　of　Ross　on　it　too。　See　what　I　mean？　You've　got　it　ing　from　every　which　way。〃
　〃Tape　isn't　evidence　in　an　American　court。　But　I　see　what　you　mean；　shamus。　Mistakes　seem　to　have　got　made。　So　okay；〃…Scaramanga　made　an　expansive　gesture　of　the　right　hand…〃take　a　million　bucks　and　call　it　quits？〃
　〃I　was　offered　three　million　on　the　train。〃
　〃I'll　double　that。〃
　〃No。　Sorry。〃　Bond　got　to　his　feet。　The　left　hand　behind　his　back　was　clenched　with　the　horror　of　what　he　was　about　to　do。　He　forced　himself　to　think　of　what　the　broken　body　of　Margesson　must　have　looked　like；　of　the　others　that　this　man　had　killed；　of　the　ones　he　would　kill　afresh　if　Bond　weakened。　This　man　was　probably　the　most　efficient　one…man　death…dealer　in　the　world。　James　Bond　had　him。　He　had　been　instructed　to　take　him。　He　must　take　him…　lying　down　wounded　or　in　any　other　position。　Bond　assumed　casualness；　tried　to　make　himself　the　enemy's　cold　equal。　〃Any　messages　for　anyone；　Scaramanga？　Any　instructions？　Anyone　you　want　looking　after？　I'll　t