his back, preparing to give covering-fire.
Nobody. No movement. No sudden fire slashing through the night.
Only wet spots of blood around the gate, showing dark, like oil, in the small beam from the penlight.
They spread out, Bond moving left to the car, the girl to the right, crouching and ready, heading for the main gates.
It took thirty seconds to give the Fiat a perfunctory going over.
It was locked and untouched. They both reached the gates, and saw that they had been breached with a lock-pistol, the bolt of which had smashed out the flat oblong mechanism, as it was propelled at high speed by a carbon dioxide cartridge.
Together they even ventured into the road, Bond crossing first while Beatrice covered him. For ten minutes or so they offered themselves as targets. Nothing. Had the team been frightened off so easily? To the girl he said they should try and secure the gate.
She nodded, “I have a chain and padlock. I’ll get them now.
She moved quickly back into the turning circle within the gates, and sped up the steps towards the villa.
Bond looked over the Fiat again, then leaned against the wall.
Why all this trouble for me? he asked himself. Certainly the supposedly undercover job on The invincible had responsibilities. But taking out one man, himself, would make no lasting difference: someone would take his place. He recalled M’s words about their intelligence-gathering. “They imagine you’re unique,” the Old Man had said. “They think your presence on Invincible is very bad medicine for them.” NI had made a sarcastic one-note laugh. “I suppose BAST and its leaders are your fan club, 007.
You should send them an autographed picture.
Bond shrugged in the dark. That was not the point. He was the stalking-horse, the tethered goat who might bring BAST to him. It was a pity they had obviously managed to spirit away the member of the team Beatrice had winged. But it was thorough thinking on their part.
There was plenty of time and it would be best to move one injured man or woman to safety before they tried again. Later tonight - or morning as it was now? He looked at his watch. Three-thirty on a cold and dangerous morning, and all was not well.
He heard Beatrice come down the steps, two at a time, but wonderfully light on her feet.
Together they wrapped the chain around the gates, securing the ground bolts which went into metal and concrete holes, then clicking the large, strong padlock into place. A last look around and they turned back, through the second gate, which Bond locked, and went around the villa to the rear terrace.
“I’ll make coffee.” Her tone had something about it that you did not argue with, so he unlocked the rear windows, and let her go in first. When he turned the lights on she said something about the place looking as though gypsies had been camping there. “You were being pretty thorough. Anyone coming in here would have made quite a din.”
“That was the general idea,” Bond smiled. “I didn’t know I had a bodyguard so close. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Not in my bnel,” she said, almost curtly and in perfect English.
“I owe you my life.”
“Then you owe me mine.” She turned, smiling, putting the pistol down on one of the tables. “How can you ever repay me?”
“We’ll think of some way.” Bond’s mouth was only inches from hers. He hovered, then turned away. “Coffee,” he said.
“We must stay alert, they could be back.”
“It’ll be light soon,” Beatrice said, busying herself in the kitchen. “I doubt they’ll return in the daytime.”
“How much do you know?”
“That you’re here, and that there’s a contract out on you.”
“And how much do you know about contracts?”
“I’m fully trained.”
“That’s not the answer. I asked how much do you know about contracts?”
“I know it’s some crazy terrorist organisation called BAST.
And I’ve been told that they know where to find you, that they’ll go
Nobody. No movement. No sudden fire slashing through the night.
Only wet spots of blood around the gate, showing dark, like oil, in the small beam from the penlight.
They spread out, Bond moving left to the car, the girl to the right, crouching and ready, heading for the main gates.
It took thirty seconds to give the Fiat a perfunctory going over.
It was locked and untouched. They both reached the gates, and saw that they had been breached with a lock-pistol, the bolt of which had smashed out the flat oblong mechanism, as it was propelled at high speed by a carbon dioxide cartridge.
Together they even ventured into the road, Bond crossing first while Beatrice covered him. For ten minutes or so they offered themselves as targets. Nothing. Had the team been frightened off so easily? To the girl he said they should try and secure the gate.
She nodded, “I have a chain and padlock. I’ll get them now.
She moved quickly back into the turning circle within the gates, and sped up the steps towards the villa.
Bond looked over the Fiat again, then leaned against the wall.
Why all this trouble for me? he asked himself. Certainly the supposedly undercover job on The invincible had responsibilities. But taking out one man, himself, would make no lasting difference: someone would take his place. He recalled M’s words about their intelligence-gathering. “They imagine you’re unique,” the Old Man had said. “They think your presence on Invincible is very bad medicine for them.” NI had made a sarcastic one-note laugh. “I suppose BAST and its leaders are your fan club, 007.
You should send them an autographed picture.
Bond shrugged in the dark. That was not the point. He was the stalking-horse, the tethered goat who might bring BAST to him. It was a pity they had obviously managed to spirit away the member of the team Beatrice had winged. But it was thorough thinking on their part.
There was plenty of time and it would be best to move one injured man or woman to safety before they tried again. Later tonight - or morning as it was now? He looked at his watch. Three-thirty on a cold and dangerous morning, and all was not well.
He heard Beatrice come down the steps, two at a time, but wonderfully light on her feet.
Together they wrapped the chain around the gates, securing the ground bolts which went into metal and concrete holes, then clicking the large, strong padlock into place. A last look around and they turned back, through the second gate, which Bond locked, and went around the villa to the rear terrace.
“I’ll make coffee.” Her tone had something about it that you did not argue with, so he unlocked the rear windows, and let her go in first. When he turned the lights on she said something about the place looking as though gypsies had been camping there. “You were being pretty thorough. Anyone coming in here would have made quite a din.”
“That was the general idea,” Bond smiled. “I didn’t know I had a bodyguard so close. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Not in my bnel,” she said, almost curtly and in perfect English.
“I owe you my life.”
“Then you owe me mine.” She turned, smiling, putting the pistol down on one of the tables. “How can you ever repay me?”
“We’ll think of some way.” Bond’s mouth was only inches from hers. He hovered, then turned away. “Coffee,” he said.
“We must stay alert, they could be back.”
“It’ll be light soon,” Beatrice said, busying herself in the kitchen. “I doubt they’ll return in the daytime.”
“How much do you know?”
“That you’re here, and that there’s a contract out on you.”
“And how much do you know about contracts?”
“I’m fully trained.”
“That’s not the answer. I asked how much do you know about contracts?”
“I know it’s some crazy terrorist organisation called BAST.
And I’ve been told that they know where to find you, that they’ll go
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