James Bond - Win Lose Or Die Part 5

'Usually only on the Christmas cards. We gather the whole family together, give each other unsuitable gifts, and eat ourselves stupid. Turkey, as a rule. I do not like turkey.' He looked at her hard and asked how she would be spending Christmas.

'At the big villa. On my own. 1 told you. I am in charge. Umberto and Franco, two of the gardeners, will come in to see all is well, and maybe one of the young girls we have to help when the villas are all occupied, or the Signora is at home, will call to see me.'

'Well, I'll probably drive into Forio and buy some kind of special feast we can share. How about that?' If she were a devil, then at least he would know where she was; if an angel, it would not matter.

'This is good, Signor Bond - James. This I would like.'

'Okay.' He found the dark eyes disconcerting, For they locked onto his like radar.

'Now I must go back to the house. The big villa. La Signora, she telephones me each day. In ..." her slim wrist came up showing her watch. 'In about fifteen minutes. 1 must he there always for her. Otherwise is lot of shouting over the telephone. Is not good.'

Bond saw she was wearing a very functional wrist-watch. Black metal, with all the bells and whistles Middle Eastern airline pilots liked on their chronometers.

Beatrice paused by the doors leading to the rear terrace, 'book. James. 1 make good cannelloni. How if I come down tonight and cook for you?'

The temptation weni in and out of Bond's mind in the lime it takes for an expert to slit a throat. He smiled and shook his head, 'Very kind of you, Beatrice. Perhaps tomorrow. I'm tired and want to make it an early night. Need the rest. You know, light meal and bed with a good book.'

'You're missing one of the great delights of Ischia,' she said, the cheekiness in both face and voice.

'I'll make up for it.' But, by the time he said it, she had disappeared. All that remained was the soft patter of her shoes on the path leading back to the main villa.

He chose Ihe bedroom at the back of the house: the one furthest away from any of ihe doors and windows. It was large with a big, old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden bed. built-in closets filled with doors and interiors that had once belonged to a pair of beautiful old wardrobes. There was a complicated icon facing the bed -elongated figures, a fussy combination of faiih and philosophy that showed the Trinity surrounded by saints and angels. It looked like a genuine product of the Stroganov school, but who would know? A doctor friend of Bond's could have knocked a similar piece off in a matter of weeks, then aged it over twelve months and n.o.body but an advanced expert would have known.

He hung up the one suii and two spare pairs of slacks, carefully put the s.h.i.+rts, socks and other items in the drawers which formed one side of each cupboard and laid out the short towelling robe he had brought with him. Lastly he casually threw a heavy roll-neck sweater onto the bed, placed a little leather-cased toolkit on the night table, then went into the main room to the telephone.

The number in Ejigland picked up on the third ring. 'Predator.' said Bond.

*h.e.l.lkin,' the voice was clear from the distant line. 'Repeat. h.e.l.lkin.- 'Acknowledge.' Bond put down the receiver. 'We will give what cover we can.' M had said. "There will be a daily pa.s.sword so that everyone knows what's what.' The instructions were that Bond should telephone on arrival. After that he would call at a similar time every twenty-four hours. The word of the day would be given, and that would last until the next contact. 'Don't want our own people getting shot up,' M had said as though he did not give a d.a.m.n who got shot up.

In the kitchen. Bond prepared a light meal: a four-egg omelette with a tomato salad. He ate alone, there in the kitchen and confined his drinking to three gla.s.ses of the red wine Beatrice had provided. The label said it was a Vino Gran Caruso and he did not doubt it for a minute. He even toyed with the idea of taking a fourth gla.s.s, but in view of his situation he left it at three.

After the meal, he went around the entire villa to make certain every lock was applied, every bolt closed, and all curtains drawn. Then he sat in the main room, with the toolkit beside him, and stripped the automatic, examining each part before rea.s.sembling it. Then, carefully using two pairs of pliers, he removed (he bullets from four rounds of ammunition, each taken at random from the four magazines. Once he checked thai Ihey were the real thing Bond disposed of the mutilated sh.e.l.ls, rilled one magazine and slammed it into the Browning's b.u.t.t, c.o.c.king the mechanism before readjusting the other clips - one full, the other two with a couple of rounds short.

It was almost ten o'clock by the time he was ready for the next move. In the bathroom he showered, then changed into the thick roll-neck, heavy cord slacks, and a pair of soft black moccasins. He strapped on a leather shoulder-holster from the bottom of his case, then shrugged on his windcheater before sliding the Browning in place, and distributing the spare magazines around his pockets. It was not, he considered, going to be the most comfortable Christmas week he had ever spent.

Finally, Bond moved from room to room, starting in the kitchen, altering the furniture, placing it against doors and near window-entry points before strewing bottles and cans from the kitchen like mines across the floor. He worked back towards his bedroom so that anyone who managed to gain entrance would have to use a torch or cause a great deal of noise. Even with a torch, a trained man would have problems in not b.u.mping against, or falling over, one of the obstacles. He stretched strings between chairs, tying them to pots and pans. He even fitted simple b.o.o.by-traps of pans, plastic buckets and cooking utensils near doors or the smaller windows.

He then arranged the pillows in the bed, so that the impression to any inlruder would be that he was quietly sleeping. It was a very old dodge, but one that worked efficiently on an a.s.sa.s.sin doing a quick in-and-out job. Lastly, Bond pulled a sleeping-bag from the bottom of his case and, still moving furniture and scattering traps, he put out the lights, carefully heading towards the french windows which led from the dining-room to the rear terrace.

The sky was clear outside, and the moon not fully up as yet. Silently he closed and locked the windows, making his way slowty and without a sound, to the covered roof-top. The nighl air stung his Face with cold, but, once zipped snug inside the sleeping-bag, set close to the wall near ihe steps, James Bond closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep.

Sleep, for Bond, was always shallow: it came with the job. When he woke it was suddenly, his eyes snapping open, all senses alert, ears straining for sounds. Certainly there was a soft noise, a sc.r.a.ping coming from below, near the frcnch windows.

He quietly unzipped himself from the sleeping-bag, rolled away and stood up. Browning out and ready with the safety off - all in a matter of thirty or forty seconds. Crouching, he peered over the parapet at the top of ihe open steps leading to the rear terrace.

The moon was sinking, but still gave him enough light to see the figure, kneeling and examining the lock.

Hardly brealhing, he inched towards the steps. Below, the figure rose and he could see the intruder's shape and form coming up from the kneeling position, straightening and turning carefully. There was a weapon in the crouching figure's hand, an automatic pistol, held with both hands, as the person moved with the proficiency of an expert.

As she turned. Bohd stood up. arms stretched out, grasping his own pistol, feet apart in the cla.s.sic stance.

'Don'1 even think about it, Beatrice." he said loudly, 'Just drop the gun and kick it away.'

The figure below turned sharply, giving a sudden little gasp.

'Do as I say! Now!' Bond commanded.

7.

h.e.l.lkin.

She did not drop the pistol, but threw it into the bushes so lhat it made no noise.

'James. h.e.l.lkin,' she whispered. 'h.e.l.lkin. There's someone in the grounds.'

Her voice. Bond thought, had lost its broad accent, and she had given him the code, obeyed his orders, but with the care of one who wishes to avoid noise that might just be heard by some third person. He came down the steps quickly, keeping his back to the wall. 'h.e.l.lkin1 was enough for him.

'What did you see or hear?' He was close to her. whispering in her ear.

'A torch. A light. Down by the second gate. Five minutes ago. I came straight away.'

'You saw it from where?'

*The main villa. I was on watch: the balcony at the lop.'

'Find your pistol.' Bond c.o.c.ked his head in the direction of the bushes. "Then follow me down and cover me.'

She dropped to her knees and then flattened her body, squirming into the undergrowth while Bond kept his back to the french windows, standing stock still, waiting for her. h.e.l.lkin. he thought. She was on the side of the angels but the intellectuals who still chose cryptos and code names in London were being clever-clever. He seemed to recall thai h.e.l.lkin was one of the twelve fork-bearing lesser demons of Dante's Inferno. h.e.l.lkin - Alchino. ihe Allurer. Well. Beh-ah-Tree-che was certainly alluring.

She was back with him now, holding up a Browning similar to his.

'Cover me,' he whispered again as he moved along the wall, flattening himself at the corner, then going around it fast, pistol up ready to take out anyone skulking near Ihe kitchen door.

n.o.body- He moved on along the wall, back Hat to the stucco again, glancing behind to see that Beatrice was following. He could make out the dark shape against the white wall, inching forward, hands locked around the pistol, elbows bent so that the weapon came level with her forehead.

The next turning of the wall would bring them to the front of the villa: to the terrace and winter-covered pool. Bond threw himself forward, rolled across the tarmac, arms strciched out and pistol at the ready.

He saw (he movement close lo the gate at the foot of the steps and shouted, 'Halt! Halt, we're armed.'

Whoever was on the other side of the gate imagined they were in with a chance, for two bullets ripped through the water lilies and palms, gouging hunks out of the green floor covering of the terrace, all a little close lo Bond for comfort. He could see nothing now, but heard Ihe quick double bark of Beatrice's Browning and a ery, like an animal mewing with pain.

Bond spun around ust in time to see Beatrice come pounding out of the shadows in pursuit of whoever had been hit on the other side of the gate. He shouted to her to stop, seeing the dangers that could lurk below the steps. They would not simply send one man to deal with him. Unless he was greatly mistaken, a whole hil team would be operational and, if anything, Beatrice had probably winged the locksmith who had not even got through the single, second, gate.

He followed her, trying to keep close to the wall in the darkness, wincing in antic.i.p.ation of the fatal burst of machine-gun fire that would surely come at any moment. Somewhere from outside, a fair way off, he heardthestutterof a car ignition, then the grind of gears.

Bciitrice had reached the gate without any further shots coming out of the night, turning her head and calling, low-voiced. 'The keys. James. You have the keys.'

He already had them out on the penlight ring in his left hand, running his fingers through them 10 select the key to the inner gate.

Beatrice had stopped with her back to the wall, trying to find cover in the slim stem of a vine as Bond pa.s.sed her, fumbling with the keys. It took around twenty seconds which seemed like an hour, but. when the key turned, there was Beatrice at his back, preparing to give covering-fire.

n.o.body. No movement. No sudden fire slas.h.i.+ng 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 lo the right, crouching and ready, heading for ihe 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 Fial again, then leaned against the wall. Why all this trouble for me? he asked himself. Certainly the supposedly undercover job on Invincible had responsibilities. But taking out one man. himself, would make no lasting difference: someone would take his place. He recalled NTs 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.' M 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 pomi. 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 lime 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 ai 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 (hey 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 ihat 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 din.'

'That was the general idea,' Bond smiled. '1 didn't know I had a bodyguard so close. Why didn't you tell me?'

'Not in my brief," 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 (hat there's a contract out on you.'

"And how much do you know about contracts?'

Tni 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 to great lengths . . .'

'Suicidal lengths, Beatrice. That's why we shouldn't restrict ourselves. They can try to get me on the street, or here, by day or night. I'm the magnet, they are the iron filings. We want one of them. Alive if possible. So. we have to keep our guards up twenty-four hours a day,'

She remained silent for the few minutes it took her to pour boiling water over the freshly ground coffee in the tall cafeiiere. adjust the lid and push down on the plunger. "Are you irttimidated, James?" Her eyes did not move from the coffee-pot. 'How intimidated?' 'Because you were given a woman bodyguard.'

Bond laughed, 'Far from it. Why do some women automatically think that people in our trade are anti-feminist? Welt-trained women are sometimes better than men in situations like this. You nearly took one of (hem out tonight. 1 didn't get near. You were also quicker than I. No. Nol guilty to being intimidated.'

'Good.' She raised her head, the dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng with something which could have been either pride or power. 'Good. Because you're in my charge. I'm the boss, and you do as . say. Understand?'

The smile disappeared from Bond's face. '1 have no orders. Just act naturally, they said. We'll have someone watching out for you. they said."

'And that someone is me.' Beatrice was pouring the coffee. 'Black? Good. Sugar?'

*No.'

"Wise choice. If you're worried about taking orders from a woman, why don't you telephone London. Give them the day's code for me and they'll tell you." Her eyes met his again and this time they locked. For half a dozen heartbeats it seemed to be a battle of wills. Then Bond nodded curtly and crossed the room to the telephone. He could not speak in clear language, but there were enough double-talk phrases for him to get at the truth.

They picked up on the third ring. "Predator for Sunray." His anger betrayed itself in his clipped tone. He took field orders from M; or. when necessary. Bill Tanner. For Beatrice to reveal that she, as his bodyguard, was in charge sc.r.a.ped at the nerve-ends of his considerable pride.

A second later a voice - that of the Duly Officer - said, 'Sunray. Yes'.*'

'Contact with Boxcar.' This last was an agreed running cipher for BAST.

'Serious?' the DO asked.

'Serious enough. Also contact with h.e.l.lkin.'

'Good.'

'Request order of battle. Sunray.'

'h.e.l.lkin leads. You follow. Predator.

Thank you, Sunray.' Bond's face was stiff with anger, but turned away from Bealrice as he recradled ihe telephone. He shrugged, 'It appears you're right,' He rearranged his face, 'So, Beatrice h.e.l.lkin. what're your orders?'

She nodded toward the large mug placed on the table in front of him. 'First, drink your coffee.' She was sitting on one of the big chairs, her body stretched back and a pleasant, friendly smile playing around her lips. She was dressed in black jeans and roll-neck, an ensemble that was practical and accentuated her figure. The jeans were tight, clinging to her long legs, while the roll-neck showed off her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, small and firm against the cotton.

'So. you don't think they'll have another go today?'

She shook her head. 'Not here. We should watch it when we go out.'

'Co out?1 'Weren't you going to get food as a nice surprise for Christmas?'

'Oh, yes. Naiate, yes. What happened to the Italian accent. Beatrice?' Almost sarcastically he p.r.o.nounced it Beh-ah-Tree-che.

'Is gone.'

'I noticed. So what're your orders?'