He was sitting, naked except for his shorts, at one of the windows of his room, sipping2 a vodka and tonic3 and looking out into the heart of the great tragic4 sunset over the Golden Horn. But his eyes didn't see the torn cloth of gold and blood that hung behind the minaretted stage beneath which he had caught his first glimpse of Tatiana Romanova.
He was thinking of the tall beautiful girl with the dancer's long gait who had walked through the drab door with a piece of paper in her hand. She had stood beside her Chief and handed him the paper. All the men had looked up at her. She had blushed and looked down. What had that expression on the men's faces meant? It was more than just the way some men look at a beautiful girl. They had shown curiosity. That was reasonable. They wanted to know what was in the signal, why they were being disturbed. But what else? There had been slyness and contempt-the way people stare at prostitutes.
It had been an odd, enigmatic scene. This was part of a highly disciplined para-military organization. These were serving officers, each of whom would be wary5 of the others. And this girl was just one of the staff, with a Corporal's rank, who was now going through a normal routine. Why had they all unguardedly looked at her with this inquisitive6 contempt-almost as if she was a spy who had been caught and was going to be executed? Did they suspect her? Had she given herself away? But that seemed less likely as the scene played itself out. The Resident Director read the signal and the other men's eyes turned away from the girl and on to him. He said something, presumably repeating the text of the signal, and the men looked glumly7 back at him as if the matter did not interest them. Then the Resident Director looked up at the girl and the other eyes followed his. He said something with a friendly, inquiring expression. The girl shook her head and answered briefly8. The other men now only looked interested. The Director said one word with a question mark on the end. The girl blushed deeply, and nodded, holding his eyes obediently. The other men smiled encouragement, slyly perhaps, but with approval. No suspicion there. No condemnation9. The scene ended with a few sentences from the Director to which the girl seemed to say the equivalent of `Yes, sir' and turned and walked out of the room. When she had gone, the Director said something with an expression of irony10 on his face and the men laughed heartily11 and the sly expression was back on their faces, as if what he had said had been obscene. Then they went back to their work.
Ever since, on their way back down the tunnel, and later in Kerim's office while they discussed what Bond had seen, Bond had racked his brains for a solution to this maddening bit of dumb crambo and now, looking without focus at the dying sun, he was still mystified.
Bond finished his drink and lit another cigarette. He put the problem away and turned his mind to the girl.
Tatiana Romanova. A Romanov. Well, she certainly looked like a Russian princess, or the traditional idea of one. The tall, fine-boned body that moved so gracefully12 and stood so well. The thick sweep of hair down to the shoulders and the quiet authority of the profile. The wonderful Garboesque face with its curiously13 shy serenity14. The contrast between the level innocence15 of the big, deep blue eyes and the passionate16 promise of the wide mouth. And the way she had blushed and the way the long eyelashes had come down over the lowered eyes. Had that been the prudery of a virgin17? Bond thought not. There was the confidence of having been loved in the proud breasts and the insolently18 lilting behind-the assertion of a body that knows what it can be for.
On what Bond had seen, could he believe that she was the sort of girl to fall in love with a photograph and a file? How could one tell? Such a girl would have a deeply romantic nature. There were dreams in the eyes and in the mouth. At that age, twenty-four, the Soviet19 machine would not yet have ground the sentiment out of her. The Romanov blood might well have given her a yearning20 for men other than the type of modern Russian officer she would meet-stern, cold, mechanical, basically hysterical21 and, because of their Party education, infernally dull.
It could be true. There was nothing to disprove her story in her looks. Bond wanted it to be true.
The telephone rang. It was Kerim. `Nothing new?'
`No.'
`Then I will pick you up at eight.'
`I'll be ready.'
Bond laid down the receiver and slowly started to put on his clothes. . . Kerim had been firm about the evening. Bond had wanted to stay in his hotel room and wait for the first contact to be made-a note, a telephone call, whatever it might be. But Kerim had said no. The girl had been adamant22 that she would choose her own time and place. It would be wrong for Bond to seem a slave to her convenience. `That is bad psychology23, my friend,' Kerim had insisted. `No girl likes a man to run when she whistles. She would despise you if you made yourself too available. From your face and your dossier she would expect you to behave with indifference-even with insolence24. She would want that. She wishes to court you, to buy a kiss,'-Kerim had winked-`from that cruel mouth. It is with an image she has fallen in love. Behave like the image. Act the part.'
Bond had shrugged25 his shoulders. `All right Darko. I daresay you're right. What do you suggest?'
`Live the life you would normally. Go home now and have a bath and a drink. The local vodka is all right if you down it with tonic water. If nothing happens, I will pick you up at eight. We will have dinner at the place of a gipsy friend of mine. A man called Vavra. He is head of a tribe. I must anyway see him tonight. He is one of my best sources. He is finding out who tried to blow up my office. Some of his girls will dance for you. I will not suggest that they should entertain you more intimately. You must keep your sword sharp. There is a saying ``Once a King, always a King. But once a Knight26 is enough!'' `
Bond was smiling at the memory of Kerim's dictum when the telephone rang again. He picked up the receiver. It was only the car. As he went down the few stairs and out to Kerim in the waiting Rolls, Bond admitted to himself that he was disappointed.
They were climbing up the far hill through the poorer quarters above the Golden Horn when the chauffeur27 half turned his head and said something in a non-committal voice.
Kerim answered with a monosyllable. `He says a Lambretta is on our tail. A Faceless One. It is of no importance. When I wish, I can make a secret of my movements. Often they have trailed this car for miles when there has been only a dummy28 in the back. A conspicuous29 car has its uses. They know this gipsy is a friend of mine, but I think they do not understand why. It will do no harm for them to know that we are having a night of relaxation30. On a Saturday night, with a friend from England, anything else would be unusual.'
Bond looked back through the rear window and watched the crowded streets. From behind a stopped tram a motor scooter showed for a minute and then was hidden by a taxi. Bond turned away. He reflected briefly on the way the Russians ran their centres-with all the money and equipment in the world, while the Secret Service put against them a handful of adventurous31, underpaid men, like this one, with his second-hand32 Rolls and his children to help him. Yet Kerim had the run of Turkey. Perhaps, after all, the right man was better than the right machine.
At half-past eight they stopped half way up a long hill on the outskirts33 of Istanbul at a dingy-looking open-air cafe with a few empty tables on the pavement. Behind it were the tops of trees over a high stone wall. They got out and the car drove off. They waited for the Lambretta, but its wasp-like buzz had stopped and at once it was on its way back down the hill. All they saw of the driver was a glimpse of a short squat34 man wearing goggles35.
Kerim led the way through the tables and into the cafe. It seemed empty, but a man rose up quickly from behind the till. He kept one hand below the counter. When he saw who it was, he gave Kerim a nervous white smile. Something clanged to the floor. He stepped from behind the counter and led them out through the back and across a stretch of gravel36 to a door in the high wall and, after knocking once, unlocked it and waved them through.
There was an orchard37 with plank38 tables dotted about under the trees. In the centre was a circle of terrazza dancing floor. Round it were strung fairy lights, now dead, on poles planted in the ground. On the far side, at a long table, about twenty people of all ages had been sitting eating, but they had put down their knives and now looked towards the door. Some children had been playing in the grass behind the table. They also were now quiet and watching. The three-quarter moon showed everything up brightly and made pools of membraned shadow under the trees.
Kerim and Bond walked forward. The man at the head of the table said something to the others. He got up and came to meet them. The rest returned to their dinner and the children to their games.
The man greeted Kerim with reserve. He stood for a few moments making a long explanation to which Kerim listened attentively39, occasionally asking a question.
The gipsy was an imposing40, theatrical41 figure in Macedonian dress-white shirt with full sleeves, baggy42 trousers and laced soft leather top-boots. His hair was a tangle43 of black snakes. A large downward-drooping black moustache almost hid the full red lips. The eyes were fierce and cruel on either side of a syphilitic nose. The moon glinted on the sharp line of the jaw44 and the high cheekbones. His right hand, which had a gold ring on the thumb, rested on the hilt of a short curved dagger45 in a leather scabbard tipped with filigree46 silver.
The gipsy finished talking. Kerim said a few words, forceful and apparently47 complimentary48, about Bond, at the same time stretching his hand out in Bond's direction as if he was a compere49 in a night-club commending a new turn. The gipsy stepped up to Bond and scrutinized50 him. He bowed abruptly51. Bond followed suit. The gipsy said a few words through a sardonic52 smile. Kerim laughed and turned to Bond. `He says if you are ever out of work you should come to him. He will give you a job-taming his women and killing53 for him. That is a great compliment to a gajo-a foreigner. You should say something in reply.'
`Tell him that I can't imagine he needs any help in these matters.'
Kerim translated. The gipsy politely bared his teeth. He said something, walked back to the table, clapping his hands sharply. Two women got up and came towards him. He spoke54 to them curtly56 and they went back to the table and picked up a large earthenware57 dish and disappeared among the trees.
Kerim took Bond's arm and led him to one side.
`We have come on a bad night,' he said. `The restaurant is closed. There are family troubles here which have to be solved-drastically, and in private. But I am an old friend and we are invited to share their supper. It will be disgusting but I have sent for raki. Then we may watch-but on condition that we do not interfere58. I hope you understand, my friend.' Kerim gave Bond's arm an additional pressure. `Whatever you see, you must not move or comment. A court has just been held and justice is to be done-their kind of justice. It is an affair of love and jealousy59. Two girls of the tribe are in love with one of his sons. There is a lot of death in the air. They both threaten to kill the other to get him. If he chooses one, the unsuccessful one has sworn to kill him and the girl. It is an impasse60. There is much argument in the tribe. So the son has been sent up into the hills and the two girls are to fight it out here tonight-to the death. The son has agreed to take the winner. The women are locked up in separate caravans61. It will not be for the squeamish, but it will be a remarkable62 affair. It is a great privilege that we may be present. You understand? We are gajos. You will forget your sense of the proprieties63? You will not interfere? They would kill you, and possibly me, if you did.'
`Darko,' said Bond. `I have a French friend. A man called Mathis who is head of the Deuxième. He once said to me ``J'aime les sensations fortes64.'' I am like him. I shall not disgrace you. Men fighting women is one thing. Women fighting women is another. But what about the bomb? The bomb that blew up your office. What did he say about that?'
`It was the leader of the Faceless Ones. He put it there himself. They came down the Golden Horn in a boat and he climbed up a ladder and fixed65 it to the wall. It was bad luck he didn't get me. The operation was well thought out. The man is a gangster66. A Bulgarian ``refugee'' called Krilencu. I shall have to have a reckoning with him. God knows why they suddenly want to kill me, but I cannot allow such annoyances67. I may decide to take action later tonight. I know where he lives. In case Vavra knew the answer, I told my chauffeur to come back with the necessary equipment.'
A fiercely attractive young girl in a thick old-fashioned black frock, with strings68 of gold coins round her neck and about ten thin gold bracelets69 on each wrist, came over from the table and swept a low jingling70 curtsey in front of Kerim. She said something and Kerim replied.
`We are bidden to the table,' said Kerim. `I hope you are good at eating with your fingers. I see they are all wearing their smartest clothes tonight. That girl would be worth marrying. She has a lot of gold on her. It is her dowry.'
They walked over to the table. Two places had been cleared on either side of the head gipsy. Kerim gave what sounded like a polite greeting to the table. There was a curt55 nod of acknowledgment. They sat down. In front of each of them was a large plate of some sort of ragout smelling strongly of garlic, a bottle of raki, a pitcher71 of water and a cheap tumbler. More bottles of raki, untouched, were on the table. When Kerim reached for his and poured himself half a tumblerful, everyone followed suit. Kerim added some water and raised his glass. Bond did the same. Kerim made a short and vehement72 speech and all raised their glasses and drank. The atmosphere became easier. An old woman next to Bond passed him a long loaf of bread and said something. Bond smiled and said `thank you'. He broke off a piece and handed the loaf to Kerim who was picking among his ragout with thumb and forefinger73. Kerim took the loaf with one hand and at the same time, with the other, he put a large piece of meat in his mouth and began to eat.
Bond was about to do the same when Kerim said sharply and quietly, `With the right hand, James. The left hand is used for only one purpose among these people.'
Bond halted his left hand in mid-air and moved it on to grasp the nearest raki bottle. He poured himself another half tumblerful and started to eat with his right hand. The ragout was delicious but steaming hot. Bond winced74 each time he dipped his fingers into it. Everyone watched them eat and from time to time the old woman dipped her fingers into Bond's stew75 and chose a piece for him.
When they had scoured their plates, a silver bowl of water, in which rose leaves floated, and a clean linen76 cloth, were put between Bond and Kerim. Bond washed his fingers and his greasy77 chin and turned to his host and dutifully made a short speech of thanks which Kerim translated. The table murmured its appreciation78. The head gipsy bowed towards Bond and said, according to Kerim, that he hated all gajos except Bond, whom he was proud to call his friend. Then he clapped his hands sharply and everybody got up from the table and began pulling the benches away and arranging them round the dance floor.
Kerim came round the table to Bond. They walked off together. `How do you feel? They've gone to get the two girls.'
Bond nodded. He was enjoying the evening. The scene was beautiful and thrilling-the white moon blazing down on the ring of figures now settling on the benches, the glint of gold or jewellery as somebody shifted his position, the glaring pool of terrazza and, all around, the quiet, sentinel trees standing79 guard in their black skirts of shadow.
Kerim led Bond to a bench where the chief gipsy sat alone. They took places on his right.
A black cat with green eyes walked slowly across the terrazza and joined a group of children who were sitting quietly as if someone was about to come on to the dance floor and teach them a lesson. It sat down and began licking its chest.
Beyond the high wall, a horse neighed. Two of the gipsies looked over their shoulders towards the sound as if they were reading the cry of the horse. From the road came the silvery spray of a bicycle bell as someone sped down the hill.
The crouching80 silence was broken by the clang of a bolt being drawn81.
The door in the wall crashed back and two girls, spitting and fighting like angry cats, hurtled through and across the grass and into the ring.
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收听单词发音
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1
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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2
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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5
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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6
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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7
glumly
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| adv.忧郁地，闷闷不乐地；阴郁地 | |
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8
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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9
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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10
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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11
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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12
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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13
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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14
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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15
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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16
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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17
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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18
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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19
Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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20
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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21
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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22
adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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24
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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25
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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26
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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27
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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28
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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29
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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30
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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31
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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32
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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34
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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35
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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36
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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40
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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41
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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42
baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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43
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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44
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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45
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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46
filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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47
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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48
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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49
compere
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| v.主持（节目） | |
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50
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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52
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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53
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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54
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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55
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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56
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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57
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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58
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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59
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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60
impasse
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| n.僵局；死路 | |
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61
caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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62
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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63
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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64
fortes
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| n.特长，专长，强项( forte的名词复数 )；强音( fortis的名词复数 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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66
gangster
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| n.匪徒，歹徒，暴徒 | |
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67
annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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68
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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69
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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70
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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71
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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72
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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73
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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74
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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76
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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77
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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78
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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79
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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80
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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81
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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