The James Bond Anthology

‘Would this help you change your mind? They’ve got a slogan for it in Cuba – Rapido! Seguro! Economico! This is how the system operates.’

The scream of terror and the explosion were simultaneous. A chair crashed to the floor and there was a moment’s silence. Then someone coughed nervously. Mr Gengerella said calmly, ‘I think that was the correct solution of an embarrassing conflict of interests. Ruby’s friends in Vegas like a quiet life. I doubt if they will even complain. It is better to be a live owner of some finely engraved paper than to be a dead holder of a second mortgage. Put them in for a million, Pistol. I think you behaved with speed and correctness. Now then, can you clean this up?’

‘Sure, sure.’ Mr Scaramanga’s voice was relaxed, happy. ‘Ruby’s left here to go back to Vegas. Never heard of again. We don’t know nuthen’. I’ve got some hungry crocs out back there in the river. They’ll give him free transportation to where he’s going – and his baggage if it’s good leather. I shall need some help tonight. What about you, Sam? And you, Louie?’

The voice of Mr Paradise pleaded. ‘Count me out, Pistol. I’m a good Catholic.’

Mr Hendriks said, ‘I will take his place. I am not a Catholic person.’

‘So be it then. Well, fellers, any other business? If not, we’ll break up the meeting and have a drink.’

Hal Garfinkel said nervously, ‘Just a minute, Pistol. What about that guy outside the door? That limey feller? What’s he going to say about the fireworks and all?’

Mr Scaramanga’s chuckle was like the dry chuckle of a gekko. ‘Just don’t you worry your tiny head about the limey, Hal. He’ll be looked after when the week-end’s over. Picked him up in a bordello in a village nearby. Place where I go get my weed and a bit of black tail. Got only temporary staff here to see you fellers have a good time over the week-end. He’s the temporariest of the lot. Those crocs have a big appetite. Ruby’ll be the main dish, but they’ll need a dessert. Jes’ you leave him to me. For all I know he may be this James Bond man Mr Hendriks has told us about. I should worry. I don’t like limeys. Like some good yankee once said, “For every Britisher that dies, there’s a song in my heart.” Remember the guy? Around the time of the Israeli war against them. I dig that viewpoint. Stuck-up bastards. Stuffed shirts. When the time comes, I’m going to let the stuffing out of this one. Jes’ you leave him to me. Or let’s jes’ say leave him to this.’

Bond smiled a thin smile. He could imagine the golden gun being produced and twirled round the finger and stuck back in the waistband. He got up and moved his chair away from the door and poured champagne into the useful glass and leant against the buffet and studied the latest hand-out from the Jamaica Tourist Board.

The click of Scaramanga’s pass key sounded in the lock. Scaramanga looked at Bond from the doorway. He ran a finger along the small moustache. ‘Okay, feller. I guess that’s enough of the house champagne. Cut along to the manager and tell him Mr Ruby Rotkopf’ll be checking out tonight. I’ll fix the details. And say a major fuse blew during the meeting and I’m going to seal off this room and find out why we’re having so much bad workmanship around the place.’Kay? Then drinks and dinner and bring on the dancing girls. Got the photo?’

James Bond said that he had. He weaved slightly as he went to the lobby door and unlocked it. ‘E. & O.E. – Errors and omissions excepted’ as the financial prospectuses say, he thought that he had indeed now ‘got the photo’. And it was an exceptionally clear print in black and white without ‘fuzz’.

10 | BELLY-LICK, ETC.

In the back office, James Bond went quickly over the highlights of the meeting. Nick Nicholson and Felix Leiter agreed they had enough on the tape, supported by Bond, to send Scaramanga to the chair. That night, one of them would do some snooping while the body of Rotkopf was being disposed of and try and get enough evidence to have Garfinkel and, better still, Hendriks indicted as accessories. But they didn’t at all like the outlook for James Bond. Felix commanded him, ‘Now don’t you move an inch without that old equalizer of yours. We don’t want to have to read that obituary of yours in The Times all over again. All that crap about what a splendid feller you are nearly made me throw up when I saw it reprinted in the American blatts. I dam’ nearly fired off a piece to the Trib putting the record straight.’