imagine M. calling in the Chief of Staff. ‘007’s already tangled up with the F.B.I. Dam’ fool went up to Harlem last night and bumped off three of Mr Big’s men. Got hurt himself, apparently, but not much. Got to get out of town with Leiter, the C.I.A. man. Going down to St Petersburg. Better warn A and C. Expect we’ll have Washington round our ears before the day’s over. Tell A to say I fully sympathize, but that 007 has my full confidence and I’m sure he acted in self-defence. Won’t happen again, and so forth. Got that?’ Bond grinned again as he thought of Damon’s exasperation at having to dish out a lot of soft soap to Washington when he probably had plenty of other Anglo-American snarls to disentangle.
The telephone rang. It was Leiter again.
‘Now listen,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s calming down some-what. Seems the men you got were a pretty nasty trio – Tee-Hee Johnson, Sam Miami and a man called McThing. All wanted on various counts. The F.B.I.’s covering up for you. Reluctantly of course, and the Police are stalling like mad. The F.B.I. big brass had already asked my Chief for you to be sent home – got him out of bed, if you please – mostly jealousy, I guess – but we’ve killed all that. Same time, we’ve both got to quit town at once. That’s all fixed too. We can’t go together, so you’re taking the train and I’ll fly. Jot this down.’
Bond cradled the telephone against his shoulder and reached for a pencil and paper. ‘Go ahead,’ he said.
‘Pennsylvania Station. Track 14. Ten-thirty this morning. “The Silver Phantom”. Through train to St Petersburg via Washington, Jacksonville and Tampa. I’ve got you a compartment. Very luxurious. Car 245, Compartment H. Ticket’ll be on the train. Conductor will have it. In the name of Bryce. Just go to Gate 14 and down to the train. Then straight to your compartment and lock yourself in till the train starts. I’m flying down in an hour by Eastern, so you’ll be alone from now on. If you get stuck call Dexter, but don’t be surprised if he bites your head off. Train gets in around midday tomorrow. Take a cab and go to the Everglades Cabanas, Gulf Boulevard West, on Sunset Beach. That’s on a place called Treasure Island where all the beach hotels are. Connected with St Petersburg by a causeway. Cabby’ll know it.
‘I’ll be waiting for you. Got all that? And for God’s sake watch out. And I mean it. The Big Man’ll get you if he possibly can and a police escort to the train would only put the finger on you. Take a cab and keep out of sight. I’m sending you up another hat and a fawn raincoat. The check’s taken care of at the St Regis. That’s the lot. Any questions?’
‘Sounds fine,’ said Bond. ‘I’ve talked to M. and he’ll square Washington if there’s any trouble. Look after yourself too,’ he added. ‘You’ll be next on the list after me. See you tomorrow. So long.’
‘I’ll watch out,’ said Leiter. ‘’Bye.’
It was half past six and Bond pulled back the curtains in the sitting-room and watched the dawn come up over the city. It was still dark down in the caverns below but the tips of the great concrete stalagmites were pink and the sun lit up the windows floor by floor as if an army of descending janitors was at work in the buildings.
The police surgeon came, stayed for a painful quarter of an hour and left.
‘Clean fracture,’ he had said. ‘Take a few days to heal. How did you come by it?’
‘Caught it in a door,’ said Bond.
‘You ought to keep away from doors,’ commented the surgeon. ‘They’re dangerous things. Ought to be forbidden by law. Lucky you didn’t catch your neck in this one.’
When he had gone, Bond finished packing. He was wondering how soon he could order breakfast when the telephone rang.
Bond was expecting a harsh voice from the Police or the F.B.I. Instead, a girl’s voice, low and urgent, asked for Mr Bond.
‘Who’s calling?’
The telephone rang. It was Leiter again.
‘Now listen,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s calming down some-what. Seems the men you got were a pretty nasty trio – Tee-Hee Johnson, Sam Miami and a man called McThing. All wanted on various counts. The F.B.I.’s covering up for you. Reluctantly of course, and the Police are stalling like mad. The F.B.I. big brass had already asked my Chief for you to be sent home – got him out of bed, if you please – mostly jealousy, I guess – but we’ve killed all that. Same time, we’ve both got to quit town at once. That’s all fixed too. We can’t go together, so you’re taking the train and I’ll fly. Jot this down.’
Bond cradled the telephone against his shoulder and reached for a pencil and paper. ‘Go ahead,’ he said.
‘Pennsylvania Station. Track 14. Ten-thirty this morning. “The Silver Phantom”. Through train to St Petersburg via Washington, Jacksonville and Tampa. I’ve got you a compartment. Very luxurious. Car 245, Compartment H. Ticket’ll be on the train. Conductor will have it. In the name of Bryce. Just go to Gate 14 and down to the train. Then straight to your compartment and lock yourself in till the train starts. I’m flying down in an hour by Eastern, so you’ll be alone from now on. If you get stuck call Dexter, but don’t be surprised if he bites your head off. Train gets in around midday tomorrow. Take a cab and go to the Everglades Cabanas, Gulf Boulevard West, on Sunset Beach. That’s on a place called Treasure Island where all the beach hotels are. Connected with St Petersburg by a causeway. Cabby’ll know it.
‘I’ll be waiting for you. Got all that? And for God’s sake watch out. And I mean it. The Big Man’ll get you if he possibly can and a police escort to the train would only put the finger on you. Take a cab and keep out of sight. I’m sending you up another hat and a fawn raincoat. The check’s taken care of at the St Regis. That’s the lot. Any questions?’
‘Sounds fine,’ said Bond. ‘I’ve talked to M. and he’ll square Washington if there’s any trouble. Look after yourself too,’ he added. ‘You’ll be next on the list after me. See you tomorrow. So long.’
‘I’ll watch out,’ said Leiter. ‘’Bye.’
It was half past six and Bond pulled back the curtains in the sitting-room and watched the dawn come up over the city. It was still dark down in the caverns below but the tips of the great concrete stalagmites were pink and the sun lit up the windows floor by floor as if an army of descending janitors was at work in the buildings.
The police surgeon came, stayed for a painful quarter of an hour and left.
‘Clean fracture,’ he had said. ‘Take a few days to heal. How did you come by it?’
‘Caught it in a door,’ said Bond.
‘You ought to keep away from doors,’ commented the surgeon. ‘They’re dangerous things. Ought to be forbidden by law. Lucky you didn’t catch your neck in this one.’
When he had gone, Bond finished packing. He was wondering how soon he could order breakfast when the telephone rang.
Bond was expecting a harsh voice from the Police or the F.B.I. Instead, a girl’s voice, low and urgent, asked for Mr Bond.
‘Who’s calling?’
Similar Books
