France.’
Mathis was efficient. He thought that this ridiculously rich young Englishman was mad – but in the end he got him what he wanted. Alphonse Duverger was from Cannes. A shrunken, stick-like man with a blue beret he was the senior oculist from the main opticians in the city. Fortunately the firm also had a branch in Juan les Pins. It was there that Bond and Mathis met him early that afternoon. Bond explained what was at stake and what he needed. It would mean a long night's wait and then a period of frantic work. Alphonse Duverger asked certain questions. When Bond had answered them he smiled, exposing over-white false teeth and promised he would do his best.
That Friday night, Bond followed what had now become his regular routine, entering the grande salle before midnight, watching the Roumanians arrive, then losing several thousand pounds to them. He purposely avoided looking at the girl, but Vlacek for once appeared almost genial. As well as Bond there were several rich Americans, all of whom gambled heavily and lost. Vlacek was managing to smile. When Bond withdrew he said to him, ‘Please don't lose heart, Mr Zwart, your luck is bound to change.’
‘Let's hope,’ said James Bond.
Mathis was standing just behind his chair. Bond thought he saw him wink.
It was to be a night of waiting. It was gone four when the casino had begun to empty and the Roumanians had won enough. Bond was sitting in a hired Peugeot opposite the main entrance when they came out. Mathis had joined him, and they saw the Roumanians troop out, solemn as four constipated undertakers. The girl was with them. A big limousine purred up with darkened windows. They got in and drove away.
There was no hurry. It would take the Roumanians twenty minutes to reach their villa. According to the girl, Vlacek was a leisurely lover. It would be an hour at least before he was asleep. So Bond and Mathis made sure that the Roumanians were well ahead before they set off for the villa. They drove slowly, then took up position near the small tradesman's door at the rear. Several lights were on. One by one they were extinguished. At ten past five the back door opened. Keeping to the shadows Bond walked across. The girl was waiting. Neither of them spoke as she handed something to him and then closed the door.
Then the rush started. It took the Peugeot three minutes flat to reach the opticians in the Rue Maréchal Leclerc. The lights were on and, still in his blue beret, Alphonse Duverger was waiting. Bond handed him a pair of heavy dark spectacles.
‘The lenses must be indistinguishable,’ he said.
The blue beret nodded.
Before six was striking, Bond and Mathis were back safely at the villa. As they arrived, the back door opened and Bond was able to give the girl back Vlacek's spectacles. For her sake he hoped Duverger knew his job.
During September, Saturdays at the casino were a gala night. In an attempt to bolster up the casino's failing fortunes, de Lesseps had been trying to attract the wealthiest visitors to the Riviera. There had been a ball up at the castle, and, as Bond arrived at the casino, the square outside was jammed with a small fortune in expensive motor-cars. The casino had been floodlit, fireworks were lighting up the bay. There was an air of carnival and celebration. Bond wondered grimly whether it would be for him or the Roumanians.
The casino was crowded, with the rich elbowing the would-be-rich for places at roulette; in the grande salle the croupiers were performing miracles of speed as they kept the cards and the counters on the move. There was excitement in the air, that unique excitement of high gambling in a great casino where fortunes and human lives are desperately at risk. The heavy money seemed to be originating from a group of South Americans – sallow men with diamond-covered wives. Bond wondered how they would react to the Roumanians when midnight came.
But the Roumanians were late. For the first time since Bond
Mathis was efficient. He thought that this ridiculously rich young Englishman was mad – but in the end he got him what he wanted. Alphonse Duverger was from Cannes. A shrunken, stick-like man with a blue beret he was the senior oculist from the main opticians in the city. Fortunately the firm also had a branch in Juan les Pins. It was there that Bond and Mathis met him early that afternoon. Bond explained what was at stake and what he needed. It would mean a long night's wait and then a period of frantic work. Alphonse Duverger asked certain questions. When Bond had answered them he smiled, exposing over-white false teeth and promised he would do his best.
That Friday night, Bond followed what had now become his regular routine, entering the grande salle before midnight, watching the Roumanians arrive, then losing several thousand pounds to them. He purposely avoided looking at the girl, but Vlacek for once appeared almost genial. As well as Bond there were several rich Americans, all of whom gambled heavily and lost. Vlacek was managing to smile. When Bond withdrew he said to him, ‘Please don't lose heart, Mr Zwart, your luck is bound to change.’
‘Let's hope,’ said James Bond.
Mathis was standing just behind his chair. Bond thought he saw him wink.
It was to be a night of waiting. It was gone four when the casino had begun to empty and the Roumanians had won enough. Bond was sitting in a hired Peugeot opposite the main entrance when they came out. Mathis had joined him, and they saw the Roumanians troop out, solemn as four constipated undertakers. The girl was with them. A big limousine purred up with darkened windows. They got in and drove away.
There was no hurry. It would take the Roumanians twenty minutes to reach their villa. According to the girl, Vlacek was a leisurely lover. It would be an hour at least before he was asleep. So Bond and Mathis made sure that the Roumanians were well ahead before they set off for the villa. They drove slowly, then took up position near the small tradesman's door at the rear. Several lights were on. One by one they were extinguished. At ten past five the back door opened. Keeping to the shadows Bond walked across. The girl was waiting. Neither of them spoke as she handed something to him and then closed the door.
Then the rush started. It took the Peugeot three minutes flat to reach the opticians in the Rue Maréchal Leclerc. The lights were on and, still in his blue beret, Alphonse Duverger was waiting. Bond handed him a pair of heavy dark spectacles.
‘The lenses must be indistinguishable,’ he said.
The blue beret nodded.
Before six was striking, Bond and Mathis were back safely at the villa. As they arrived, the back door opened and Bond was able to give the girl back Vlacek's spectacles. For her sake he hoped Duverger knew his job.
During September, Saturdays at the casino were a gala night. In an attempt to bolster up the casino's failing fortunes, de Lesseps had been trying to attract the wealthiest visitors to the Riviera. There had been a ball up at the castle, and, as Bond arrived at the casino, the square outside was jammed with a small fortune in expensive motor-cars. The casino had been floodlit, fireworks were lighting up the bay. There was an air of carnival and celebration. Bond wondered grimly whether it would be for him or the Roumanians.
The casino was crowded, with the rich elbowing the would-be-rich for places at roulette; in the grande salle the croupiers were performing miracles of speed as they kept the cards and the counters on the move. There was excitement in the air, that unique excitement of high gambling in a great casino where fortunes and human lives are desperately at risk. The heavy money seemed to be originating from a group of South Americans – sallow men with diamond-covered wives. Bond wondered how they would react to the Roumanians when midnight came.
But the Roumanians were late. For the first time since Bond
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