The James Bond Anthology

She put out a tentative hand, as if for reassurance that she had done the right thing. Bond took it and patted it absent-mindedly while his mind chewed on this new complication. He said, ‘The man’s here all right. So’s a gunman called Scaramanga. You might as well know, Mary, that Scaramanga killed Ross. In Trinidad.’ She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘You can report it as a fact, from me. If I can get you out of here, that is. As for Hendriks, he’s here all right, but he doesn’t seem to have identified me for certain. Did H.Q. say whether he was given a description of me?’

‘You were simply described as “the notorious secret agent, James Bond”. But this doesn’t seem to have meant much to Hendriks because he asked for particulars. That was two days ago. He may get them cabled or telephoned here at any minute. You do see why I had to come, James?’

‘Yes, of course. And thanks, Mary. Now, I’ve got to get you out of that window and then you must just make your own way. Don’t worry about me. I think I can handle the situation all right. Besides, I’ve got help.’ He told her about Felix Leiter and Nicholson. ‘You just tell H.Q. you’ve delivered the message and that I’m here and about the two C.I.A. men. H.Q. can get the C.I.A. angles from Washington direct. Okay?’ He got to his feet.

She stood up beside him and looked up at him. ‘But you will take care?’

‘Sure, sure.’ He patted her shoulder. He turned off the shower and opened the bathroom door. ‘Now, come on. We must pray for a stroke of luck.’

A silken voice from the darkness at the end of the bed said, ‘Well, the Holy Man jes’ ain’t running for you today, Mister. Step forward both of you. Hands clasped behind the neck.’

11 | BALLCOCK, AND OTHER, TROUBLE

Scaramanga walked to the door and turned the lights on. He was naked save for his shorts and the holster below his left arm. The golden gun remained trained on Bond as he moved.

Bond looked at him incredulously, then to the carpet inside the door. The wedges were still there, undisturbed. He could not possibly have got through the window unaided. Then he saw that his clothes cupboard stood open and that light showed through into the next room. It was the simplest of secret doors – just the whole of the back of the cupboard, impossible to detect from Bond’s side of the wall and, on the other, probably, in appearance, a locked communicating door.

Scaramanga came back into the centre of the room and stood looking at them both. His mouth and eyes sneered. He said, ‘I didn’t see this piece of tail in the line-up. Where you been keeping it, buster? And why d’you have to hide it away in the bathroom? Like doing it under the shower?’

Bond said, ‘We’re engaged to be married. She works in the British High Commissioner’s Office in Kingston. Cypher clerk. She found out where I was staying from that place you and I met. She came out to tell me that my mother’s in hospital in London. Had a bad fall. Her name’s Mary Goodnight. What’s wrong with that and what do you mean coming busting into my room in the middle of the night waving a gun about? And kindly keep your foul tongue to yourself.’ Bond was pleased with his bluster and decided to take the next step towards Mary Goodnight’s freedom. He dropped his hands to his sides and turned to the girl. ‘Put your hands down, Mary. Mr Scaramanga must have thought there were burglars about when he heard that window bang. Now, I’ll get some clothes on and take you out to your car. You’ve got a long drive back to Kingston. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here for the rest of the night? I’m sure Mr Scaramanga could find us a spare room.’ He turned back to Mr Scaramanga. ‘It’s all right, Mr Scaramanga, I’ll pay for it.’