Even through his deafness, Bond heard the appalling thud and the awful scream as the blade sliced through Nannie’s arms. He was conscious of the spurting blood, the never-ending scream and the fact that the fire was now pouring out thick, dark smoke. He paused only to grab the Uzi and shake off the detached arms with their hands clamped around the weapon. It took two hard shakes to free them from the machine pistol. Then he was outside in the passageway, which was also rapidly filling with smoke.
Turning, Bond looked at the electronic locking pad set into the wall. It seemed to be a simple numerical device, but then he saw that the bottom row contained red buttons and was marked ‘Time lock’. There was a small strip of printed instructions below them: Press Time button. Press Close. When doors shut press number of hours required. Then press Time button again. Doors will remain inoperable until period of time set has elapsed.
His fingers stabbed at the Time, then Close buttons. The doors slid shut. He pressed Two . . . Four . . . Time. Everyone in the execution chamber was either dead or dying anyway. Putting the doors on a twenty-four hour time lock just might hold back the fire. Now for the hostages.
As he ran for the cell containing May, alarm bells began to ring. Bond could hear them well enough. Either the fire had set them off, or someone still with strength left had activated them from inside the death chamber.
He reached the door of the first cell, looking around wildly for any sign of a key. There were no keys. Standing well to one side Bond fired a burst from the Uzi, not at the metal lock but at the topmost hinge and the area around it. Bullets whined and ricocheted in the passage, but they also threw out great splinters of wood and Bond saw the door sag as the top part of the frame gave way. He turned the Uzi on to the lower hinge, gave it two fast bursts and leaped to one side as the slab of metal detached itself from the wall, hesitated, then fell heavily to one side.
May cowered back on her bed, eyes wide with fear, looking as though she was trying to push her body through the wall.
‘It’s okay, May! It’s me!’ he yelled.
‘Mr James! Oh, my God, Mr James!’
‘Just hang on there,’ Bond shouted at her, realising he was raising his voice too high because of his temporary deafness. ‘Hang on while I get Moneypenny. Don’t come out into the passage until I tell you!’
‘Mr James, how did . . .’ She began, but he was away, up the passage to the next cell door, where he repeated the process with the Uzi. The passage appeared to be filling fast with smoke.
‘It’s okay, Moneypenny,’ he shouted breathlessly. ‘It’s okay. It’s the white knight come to take you off on the pommel of his saddle, or something like that.’
She looked grey with fear, and was shaking badly.
‘James! Oh, James. I thought . . . they told me . . .’
She rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. Bond had to disentangle himself firmly from his Chief’s Personal Assistant. He almost dragged her into the passage and pointed her towards May’s cell.
‘I’ll need your help with May, Penny. We’ve still got to get out of here. There’s a fire blazing along the passage and unless I’m mistaken, quite a number of people who don’t really want to see us leave. So for God’s sake, don’t panic. Just get May out of here as quickly as you can, then do as I tell you.’
As soon as he saw her respond, he ran through the thickening smoke towards the elevator doors. Never use elevators in the event of fire. How many times had he seen that warning in hotels? Yet now there was no alternative. Like it or not, there appeared to be no other way out of the passage.
He got to the curved steel doors and jabbed at the button. Perhaps others were making their escape from the floors above by the same method. Maybe the mechanism had already been damaged. He could now hear the roaring of fire along the passage, behind the doors of the execution chamber.
Reaching out, Bond touched the curved metal doors and found them distinctly warm. He waited, jabbing again at the button, then checked the Uzi and the automatic pistol. The automatic was a big Stetchkin with a twenty round magazine, and he had only loosed off six shots. He tucked the almost empty Uzi under his left arm, holding the Stetchkin in readiness.
Moneypenny came slowly along the passage supporting May, just as the elevator doors opened to reveal four men in dark combat jackets. Bond took in the surprised looks and the slight movement as one of them began to reach towards a holster at his hip.
His thumb flicked the Stetchkin from single shot to automatic, and he turned his hand sideways – for the Stetchkin has a habit of pulling violently upwards on automatic fire. If turned sideways it would neatly stitch bullets from left to right. Bond fired a controlled six rounds and the four men were littering the floor of the elevator. He held up a hand to stop Moneypenny bringing May any closer. Quickly he hauled the bodies out of the cage, jamming one of them across the doors to keep them from closing while he performed the task.
In less than thirty seconds he was ushering May and Moneypenny towards the lift. It was rapidly becoming very hot, and as soon as they were inside he pressed the Down button, keeping his finger on it for five or six seconds. When the doors next opened, they were facing the curved passage leading to Tamil Rahani’s room.
‘Slowly,’ he warned May and Moneypeny, ‘take care.’
A burst of machine gun fire rattled in the distance. It crossed Bond’s mind that something odd was now going on. A fire was obviously blazing above them, yet they would be the only targets for any of SPECTRE’S people left on the island. Why then was there shooting going on that was not directed at them?
The door to Rahani’s room was open. There was a violent burst of fire from within. Slowly Bond edged into the doorway. Two men dressed in dark combat jackets, like those in the elevator, manned a heavy machine gun set up near the big picture windows. They were firing down into the gardens. Beyond them Bond could see helicopters, their lights blinking red and green, hovering over the island. A star shell burst high in the night sky, and three sharp cracks followed by splintering glass left him in no doubt that the house itself was coming under attack.
He hoped that the men out there were on the side of the angels as he stepped into the room and placed four bullets neatly into the necks of the two machine gunners.
‘Stay in the passage! Stay down!’ he shouted back to May and Moneypenny.
There was a moment’s silence. Then Bond heard the unmistakable sound of boots clanking up the metal steps leading to the terrace balcony. Holding the pistol low, he called to those he could now see outside the window. ‘Hold your fire! Escaping Hostages!’
A burly officer of the US Navy, brandishing a very large revolver, appeared at the window, followed by half a dozen armed naval ratings. Behind them he saw the white, frightened face of Sukie Tempesta, who cried out,
‘It’s them. It’s Mr Bond and the people they were holding to ransom!’
‘You Bond?’ snapped the naval officer.
‘Bond, yes. James Bond.’ He nodded.
‘Thank the Lord for that. Thought you were a gonner. Would have been but for this pretty little lady here. We’ve gotta move it, fast. This place will go up like a fired barn in no time.’
The leathery-faced man reached out, grasped Bond’s wrist and propelled him towards the balcony, while three of his men hurried forward to help May and Moneypenny.
‘Oh, James! James, it’s so good to see you.’ He had been thrown almost straight into the arms of the Principessa Sukie Tempesta and, for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bond found himself being kissed with an almost wild, skidding passion. This time he was in no hurry to break away.
Bond asked breathlessly what had happened as they were hustled through the gardens to the small pier. No sooner were they aboard than the coastguard cutter drew away, gathering speed. They looked back at the island. Other launches and cutters were circling, as were more helicopters, rattling their way around and keeping station with each other, some shining spotlight
s down into the beautifully laid out gardens.
‘It’s a long story, James,’ Sukie said.
‘Jesus!’ said one of the coastguard officers through clenched teeth as the great pyramid that had been SPECTRE’S headquarters spouted flame from the top of the structure, like an erupting volcano.
The helicopters had started to turn away, one making a low pass over the cutter. May and Moneypenny sat in the bows, being tended by a naval doctor. In the weird light from the Shark Island fire they both looked feverish and ill.
‘She’ll blow any minute,’ the coastguard officer muttered and almost as he said it the building appeared to rise out of the island and hover for a second, surrounded by a sheet of dancing flame. Then it exploded in a flash of such dazzling intensity that Bond had to turn his head away.
When he looked again, the air seemed to be filled with burning fragments. A pall of smoke hung across the little hump that had been Shark Island.
He wondered if that was really the end of his old, old enemy, SPECTRE, or whether it would ever rise again, like some ungodly phoenix from the ashes of the death and destruction which he, James Bond, had caused.
20
CHEERS AND APPLAUSE
Sukie told her story once the cutter was inside the reef, and the sound of waves, wind and engines grew less, so that she did not have to shout.
‘At first I couldn’t believe my eyes – then, when Nannie made the telephone call, I knew,’ she said.
‘Just take it a step at a time.’ Bond was still shouting as the ringing in his ears had not yet gone.
When Sukie and Nannie had left Bond the previous evening, Nannie had ordered coffee from room service.
‘It arrived while I was in the bathroom touching up my face, so I told her to pour it,’ Sukie told him.
She had left the door open, and in the mirror she saw Nannie put something in her cup from a bottle. ‘I couldn’t believe she was really up to no good, in fact I nearly taxed her about it. Thank goodness I didn’t. I remember thinking she was trying to do me a good turn and keep me out of danger. I’ve always trusted her – she’s been my closest friend since schooldays. I never suspected there was anything like . . . well . . . She was a very faithful friend you know, James. Right up until this.’
‘Never trust a faithful friend,’ Bond said with a wry smile. ‘It always leads to tears before bedtime.’
Sukie had dumped the coffee and feigned sleep. ‘She stood over me for a long time, lifted my eyelids and all that sort of thing. She used the telephone in the room. I don’t know who she spoke to, but it was quite clear what she was up to. She said she was going to follow you. She thought you might try and make it to the island without us. “I’ve got him, though,” she said. “Tell the Colonel I’ve got him.”
‘I stayed put for a while, in case Nannie came back – which she did, and made another call. Very fast. She said you’d taken the hotel motor boat and that she was following. She told them to keep a watch for you, but that you were her prisoner and she didn’t want anyone else to take you. She kept saying she’d get you to the Colonel in one piece. He could divide you. Does that make sense?’
‘Oh, a great deal of sense.’
Bond thought of the guillotine blade smashing down and removing Nannie Norrich’s arms.
‘Terrible,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘Really terrible. You know, I quite lliked her – even grew fond of her.’
Sukie stared at him, but said nothing, as the cutter entered the small naval base harbour.
‘And who’s paying for all this luxury? That’s what I want to know.’ May was obviously well recovered.
‘The Government,’ said Bond, smiling at her. ‘And if they don’t, then I shall.’
‘Well, it’s a wicked waste of good money, keeping us all here in this verra expensive hotel. Ye ken how much it’s costing here, Mr James?’
‘I ken very well, May, and you’re not to worry your head about it. We’ll all be home soon enough, and this’ll seem like a dream. Just enjoy it, and enjoy the sunset. You’ve never seen a Key West sunset, and it’s truly one of God’s miracles.’
‘Och, I’ve seen sunsets in the Highlands, laddie. That’s good enough for me.’ Then she appeared to soften. ‘It’s guy kind of you though, Mr James, for getting me fit and well once more. I’ll say that. But, oh, I’m longing for ma kitchen again, and looking after you.’
It was two days after what the local newspaper called ‘The Incident on Shark Island’ and they had all been released as fit from the naval hospital that afternoon. Now May sat with Sukie and Bond on the deck in front of the Havana Docks bar at the Pier House Hotel. The sun was just starting its nightly show and the place was crowded. Again Sukie and Bond were eating the huge, succulent shrimps with little bowls of spicy sauce and drinking Calypso Daiquiris. May spurned both, making do with a glass of milk, about which she loudly expressed her hope that it was fresh.
‘Lord, this really is the place where time stood still.’ Sukie leaned over and kissed Bond lightly on the cheek. ‘I went into a shop on Front Street this afternoon and met a girl who came here for two weeks. That was nine years ago.’
‘I believe that is the effect it has on some people.’ Bond gazed out to sea, thinking it was the last place he would want to stay for nine years. Too many memories were crowded in here – Nannie, the nice girl who had turned out to be a wanton and ruthless killer; Tamil Rahani, whom he had really met for the last time; SPECTRE, that dishonourable society willing even to cheat others of promised prizes for Bond’s head.
‘Penny for them?’ Sukie asked.
‘Just thinking that I wouldn’t like to stay here for ever, but I wouldn’t mind a week or two – perhaps to get to know you better.’
She smiled. ‘I had the same thought. That’s why I arranged for your things to be brought up to my suite, dear James.’ The smile turned into a grin.
‘You did what?’ Bond’s jaw dropped.
‘You heard, darling. We’ve got a lot of time to make up.’
Bond gave her a long, warm look and watched the sky turn scarlet as the sun dropped behind the islands. Then he glanced towards the doors of the bar to see the ever-faithful Moneypenny striding in their direction and beckoning to him.
He excused himself and went over to her. ‘Signal from M,’ she said, shooting dagger-like glances in Sukie’s direction.
‘Ah.’ Bond waited.
‘ “Return soonest. Well done. M.” ’ Moneypenny intoned.
‘You want to return home soonest?’ he asked.
She nodded, a little sadly and said that she could understand why Bond might not wish to leave just yet.
‘You could perhaps take May back,’ he suggested.
‘I booked the flight as soon as the signal came in. We leave tomorrow.’ Efficient as ever.
‘All of us?’
‘No, James. I realised that I would never be able to thank you as I’d like to – for saving my life, I mean . . .’
‘Oh, Penny, you mustn’t . . .’
She put up a hand to silence him. ‘No, James. I’ve booked a flight for May and myself. I’ve also sent a signal.’
‘Yes?’
‘ “Returning immediately. 007 still requires remedial treatment that will take about three weeks.” ’
‘Three weeks should do just nicely.’
‘I thought so,’ she said and turned, walking slowly back into the hotel.
‘You actually had my stuff moved into your suite, you hussie?’ Bond asked, once he had returned to Sukie.
‘Everything you bought this afternoon – including the suitcase.’
Bond smiled. ‘How can we? I mean, you’re a Principessa – a Princess. It wouldn’t be right.’
‘Oh, we could call the book something like The Princess and the Pauper.’ She grinned again – wickedly, with a dash of sensuality.
‘I’m not a pauper, though,’ said Bond, feigning huffiness.
‘The prices here could fix that,’
Sukie said, laughing, and at that moment the whole air and sky around them became crimson as sun took its dive for the day.
From Mallory Square, where crowds always watched the sunset, you could hear the cheers and applause.
By the same author:
Licence Renewed
For Special Services
Icebreaker
Role of Honour
No Deals, Mr Bond
Scorpius
Win, Lose or Die
Brokenclaw
The Man from Barbarossa
Death Is Forever
Never Send Flowers
SeaFire
Cold
Licence to Kill
GoldenEye
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by Orion Books.
This eBook first published in 2011 by Orion Books.
Copyright © Orion 2011
The right of John Gardner to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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ISBN: 9780857820532
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John Gardner, Nobody Lives for Ever
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