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you, just go on saying, 'By me'. Act dumb. I shall be watching. And maybe others too.
That I wouldn't know. If they lock you up in America, ask for the British Consul and go
on asking. You won't get any help from us. But that's what you're being paid for. Okay?"
"Fair enough," said Bond. "The only person I could get into trouble would be you." He
looked appraisingly at her. "And I wouldn't like that to happen."
"Shucks," she said scornfully. "You've got nothing on me. Don't worry about me, my
friend. I can look after myself." She got up and came and stood in front of him. "And
don't 'little girl' me," she said sharply. "We're on a job. And I can take care of myself.
You'd be surprised."
Bond stood up and away from the window-sill. He smiled down and into the flashing
grey eyes that were now dark with impatience. " 'I can do anything better than you can.'
Don't worry. I'll be a credit to you. But just relax and stop being so business-like for a
minute. I'd like to see you again. Could we meet in New York if everything goes all
right?" Bond felt treacherous as he said the words. He liked this girl. He wanted to
make friends with her. But it would be a question of using ' friendship to get further up
the pipeline.
She looked thoughtfully at him for a moment and her eyes gradually lost their
darkness. Her sharply compressed lips relaxed and parted a little. There was a hint of a
stammer in her voice as she answered him.
"I, I& that is," she brusquely turned away from him. "Hell," she said, but the word
sounded artificial. "I've got nothing on Friday night. Guess we might have dinner. '21'
Club on 52nd. All the cab drivers know it. Eight o'clock. If the job goes off okay. Suit
you?" She turned back towards him and looked at his mouth and not his eyes.
"Fine," said Bond. He thought it was time to get out before he made a mistake. "Now,"
he said efficiently. "Is there anything else?"
"No," she said, and then sharply, as if she had just remembered something. "What's
the time?"
Bond looked at his watch. "Ten to six."
"I've got to get busy," she said. With a movement of dismissal she walked towards the
door. Bond followed her. With her hand on the key she turned. She looked at him, and
there was confidence and almost warmth in her eyes. "You'll be all right," she said.
"Just keep away from me in the plane. Don't panic if anything goes wrong. If you work
out okay," the patronizing note came back to her voice, "I'll try and get you some more
of the same sort of jobs."
"Thanks," said Bond. "I'd appreciate that. I'd enjoy working with you."
With a slight shrug of the shoulders, she opened the door and Bond walked out into
the corridor.
He turned. "See you at this '21' place of yours," he said. He wanted to say more, to
find an excuse to stay with her, with this lonely girl who played the gramophone and
gazed at herself in the mirror.
 20
But now her expression was remote. He might have been a complete stranger.
"Sure," she said indifferently. She looked at him once more and then she closed the
door slowly but firmly in his face.
As Bond walked away down the long corridor to the lift, the girl stood just inside the
door and listened until his footsteps had vanished. Then, with brooding eyes, she
walked slowly over to the gramophone and switched it on. She picked up the Feyer
record and searched for the groove she wanted. She put the record on the machine
and found the place with the needle. The tune was ]e n'en connais fas la fin. She stood
listening to it and wondering about the man who had suddenly, out of the blue, found
his way into her life. God, she thought to herself with sudden angry despair, another
dam crook. Couldn't she ever get away from them? But when the record stopped her
face was happy, and she hummed the tune as she powdered her nose and got ready to
go out.
Out on the street she paused and looked at her watch. Ten minutes past six. Five
minutes to go. She walked across Trafalgar Square to Charing Cross Station, arranging
in her mind what she was going to say. Then she went into the station and into one of
the call-boxes she always used.
It was just 6.15 when she dialled the Welbeck number. After the usual two rings she
heard the click of the automatic recorder taking the call. For twenty seconds she heard
nothing but the sharp hiss of a needle on wax. Then the neutral voice that was her
unknown master said the one word 'Speak'. And then there was silence again except
for the hiss of the recorder.
She had long got over being flustered by the abrupt, disembodied command. She
spoke rapidly but distinctly into the black mouthpiece. "Case to ABC. I repeat. Case to
ABC." She paused. "Carrier is satisfactory. Says real name is James Bond and will use
that name on passport. Plays golf and will carry golf clubs. Suggest golf balls. Uses
Dunlop 60's. All other arrangements stand. Will call for confirmation at 1915 and 2015.
That's all."
She listened for a moment to the hiss of the recorder; then she put down the receiver
and walked back to her hotel. She called Room Service for a large dry Martini and
when it came she sat and smoked and played the gramophone and waited for 7.15.
Then, or perhaps not until she called back again at 8.15, the neutral, muffled voice
would come back at her over the telephone wire: "ABC to Case. I repeat. ABC to
Case& " And then would follow her instructions.
And somewhere, in some rented room in London, the hiss of the recorder would stop [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]