The James Bond Anthology

She laughed. ‘This ain’t no business, Mister Mark. Not while I’m running it. This is a public service, like water and electricity and health and education and …’ She broke off and glanced over her shoulder at the clock which said 5.45. ‘Hell! You got me talking so much I’ve forgot Joe and May. It’s their supper.’ She went to the café window and wound it down. At once, from the direction of the lignum vitae tree, two large black birds, slightly smaller than a raven, whirled in, circled the interior of the café amidst a metallic clangour of song unlike the song of any other bird in the world, and untidily landed on the counter within reach of Bond’s hand. They strutted up and down imperiously, eyeing Bond without fear from bold, golden eyes and went through a piercing repertoire of tinny whistles and trills, some of which required them to ruffle themselves up to almost twice their normal size.

Tiffy went back behind the bar, took two pennies out of her purse, rang them up on the register and took two ginger cakes out of the flyblown display case. She broke off bits and fed the two birds, always the smaller of the two, the female, first, and they greedily seized the pieces from her fingers, and, holding the scraps to the wooden counter with a claw, tore them into smaller fragments and devoured them. When it was all over, and Tiffy had chided them both for pecking her fingers, they made small, neat white messes on the counter and looked pleased with themselves. Tiffy took a cloth and cleaned up the messes. She said, ‘We call them kling-klings but learned folk call them Jamaican grackles. They’re very friendly folk. The Doctor Bird, the humming bird with the streamer tail, is the Jamaican national bird, but I like these best. They’re not so beautiful, but they’re the friendliest birds and they’re funny besides. They seem to know it. They’re like naughty black thieves.’ The kling-klings eyed the cake stand and complained stridently that their supper was over. James Bond produced twopence and handed it over. ‘They’re wonderful. Like mechanical toys. Give them a second course from me.’

Tiffy rang up the money and took out two more cakes. ‘Now listen, Joe and May. This nice gemmun’s been nice to Tiffy and he’s now being nice to you. So don’t you peck my fingers and make messes or mebbe he won’t visit us again.’ She was half-way through feeding the birds when she cocked an ear. There was the noise of creaking boards somewhere overhead and then the sound of quiet footsteps treading stairs. All of a sudden Tiffy’s animated face became quiet and tense. She whispered to Bond: ‘That’s Lindy’s man. Important man. He’s a good customer here. But he don’t like me because I won’t go with him. So he can talk rough sometimes. And he don’t like Joe and May because he reckons they make too much noise.’ She shooed the birds in the direction of the open window, but they saw there was half their cake to come and they just fluttered into the air and then down to the counter again. Tiffy appealed to Bond. ‘Be a good friend and just sit quiet whatever he says. He likes to get people mad. And then …’ She stopped. ‘Will you have another Red Stripe, mister?’

Bead curtains swished in the shadowy back of the room.

Bond had been sitting with his chin propped on his right hand. He now dropped the hand to the counter and sat back. The Walther PPK inside the waistband of his trousers to the left of his flat stomach signalled its presence to his skin. The fingers of his right hand curled slightly, ready to receive its butt. He moved his left foot off the rail of the stool on to the floor. He said, ‘That’d be fine.’ He unbuttoned his coat with his left hand and then, with the same hand, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face with it. ‘It always gets extra hot around six before the Undertaker’s Wind has started to blow.’

‘Mister, the undertaker’s right here. You care to feel his wind?’

James Bond turned his head slowly. Dusk had crept into the big room and all he could see was a pale, tall outline. The man was carrying a suitcase. He put it down on the floor and came forward. He must have been wearing rubber-soled shoes for his feet made no sound. Tiffy moved nervously behind the counter and a switch clicked. Half a dozen low-voltage bulbs came to life in rusty brackets around the walls.

Bond said easily, ‘You made me jump.’