'Blabbermouth?'
'Yassuh, Boss.'
'You're holding that American, Leiter.'
'Yassuh.'
'Hurt him considerably1. Ride him down to Bellevue Hospital and dump him nearby. Got that?'
'Yassuh.'
'Don't be seen.'
'Nossuh.'
Mr. Big centred the switch.
'God damn your bloody2 eyes,' said Bond viciously. 'The CIA won't let you get away with this!'
'You forget, Mister Bond. They have no jurisdiction3 in America. The American Secret Service has no power in America - only abroad. And the FBI are no friends of theirs. Tee-Hee, come here.'
'Yassuh, Boss.' Tee-Hee came and stood beside the desk.
Mr. Big looked across at Bond.
'Which finger do you use least, Mister Bond?'
Bond was startled by the question. His mind raced.
'On reflection, I expect you will say the little finger of the left hand,' continued the soft voice. 'Tee-Hee, break the little finger of Mr. Bond's left hand.'
The negro showed the reason for his nickname.
'Hee-hee,' he gave a falsetto giggle4. 'Hee-hee.'
He walked jauntily5 over to Bond. Bond clutched madly at the arms of his chair. Sweat started to break out on his forehead. He tried to imagine the pain so that he could control it.
The negro slowly unhinged the little finger of Bond's left hand, immovably bound to the arm of his chair.
He held the tip between finger and thumb and very deliberately6 started to bend it back, giggling7 inanely8 to himself.
Bond rolled and heaved, trying to upset the chair, but Tee-Hee put his other hand on the chair-back and held it there. The sweat poured off Bond's face. His teeth started to bare in an involuntary rictus. Through the increasing pain he could just see the girl's eyes wide upon him, her red lips slightly parted.
The finger stood upright, away from the hand. Started to bend slowly backwards9 towards his wrist. Suddenly it gave. There was a sharp crack.
'That will do,' said Mr. Big.
Tee-Hee released the mangled10 ringer with reluctance11.
Bond uttered a soft animal groan12 and fainted.
'Da guy ain't got no sensayuma,' commented Tee-Hee.
Solitaire sat limply back in her chair and closed her eyes.
'Did he have a gun?' asked Mr. Big.
'Yassuh.' Tee-Hee took Bond's Beretta out of his pocket and slipped it across the desk. The Big Man picked it up and looked at it expertly. He weighed it in his hand, testing the feel of the skeleton grip. Then he pumped the shells out on to the desk, verified that he had also emptied the chamber13 and slid it over towards Bond.
'Wake him up,' he said, looking at his watch. It said three o'clock.
Tee-Hee went behind Bond's chair and dug his nails into the lobes14 of Bond's ears.
Bond groaned15 and lifted his head.
His eyes focused on Mr. Big and he uttered a string of obscenities.
'Be thankful you're not dead,' said Mr. Big without emotion. 'Any pain is preferable to death. Here is your gun. I have the shells. Tee-Hee, give it back to him.'
Tee-Hee took it off the desk and slipped it back into Bond's holster.
'I will explain to you briefly,' continued The Big Man, 'why it is that you are not dead; why you have been permitted to enjoy the sensation of pain instead of adding to the pollution of the Harlem River from the folds of what is jocularly known as a cement overcoat.'
He paused for a moment and then spoke16.
'Mister Bond, I suffer from boredom17. I am a prey18 to what the early Christians19 called "accidie", the deadly lethargy that envelops20 those who are sated, those who have no more desires. I am absolutely pre-eminent in my chosen profession, trusted by those who occasionally employ my talents, feared and instantly obeyed by those whom I myself employ. I have, literally21, no more worlds to conquer within my chosen orbit. Alas22, it is too late in my life to change that orbit for another one, and since power is the goal of all ambition, it is unlikely that I could possibly acquire more power in another sphere than I already possess in this one.'
Bond listened with part of his mind. With the other half he was already planning. He sensed the presence of
Solitaire, but he kept his eyes off her. He gazed steadily23 across the table at the great grey face with its unwinking golden eyes.
The soft voice continued.
'Mister Bond, I take pleasure now only in artistry, in the polish and finesse24 which I can bring to my operations. It has become almost a mania25 with me to impart an absolute rightness, a high elegance26, to the execution of my affairs. Each day, Mister Bond, I try and set myself still higher standards of subtlety27 and technical polish so that each of my proceedings28 may be a work of art, bearing my signature as clearly as the creations of, let us say, Benvenuto Cellini. I am content, for the time being, to be my only judge, but I sincerely believe, Mister Bond, that the approach to perfection which I am steadily achieving in my operations will ultimately win recognition in the history of our times.'
Mr. Big paused. Bond saw that his great yellow eyes were wide, as if he saw visions. He's a raving29 megalomaniac, thought Bond. And all the more dangerous because of it. The fault in most criminal minds was that greed was their only impulse. A dedicated30 mind was quite another matter. This man was no gangster31. He was a menace. Bond was fascinated and slightly awestruck.
'I accept anonymity32 for two reasons,' continued the low voice. 'Because the nature of my operations demands it and because I admire the self-negation of the anonymous33 artist. If you will allow the conceit34, I see myself sometimes as one of those great Egyptian fresco35 painters who devoted36 their lives to producing masterpieces in the tombs of kings, knowing that no living eye would ever see them.'
The great eyes closed for a moment.
'However, let us return to the particular. The reason, Mister Bond, why I have not killed you this morning is because it would give me no aesthetic37 pleasure to blow a hole in your stomach. With this engine,' he gestured towards the gun trained on Bond through the desk drawer, 'I have already blown many holes in many stomachs, so I am quite satisfied that my little mechanical toy is a sound technical achievement. Moreover, as no doubt you rightly surmise38, it would be a nuisance for me to have a lot of busy-bodies around here asking questions about the disappearance39 of yourself and your friend Mr. Leiter. Not more than a nuisance; but for various reasons I wish to concentrate on other matters at the present time.
'So,' Mr. Big looked at his watch, 'I decided40 to leave my card upon each of you and to give you one more solemn warning. You must leave the country today, and Mr. Leiter must transfer to another assignment. I have quite enough to bother me without having a lot of agents from Europe added to the considerable strength of local busybodies with which I have to contend.
'That is all,' he concluded. 'If I see you again, you will die in a manner as ingenious and appropriate as I can devise on that day.
'Tee-Hee, take Mister Bond to the garage. Tell two of the men to take him to Central Park and throw him in the ornamental41 water. He may be damaged but not killed if he resists. Understood?'
'Yassuh, Boss,' said Tee-Hee, giggling in a high falsetto.
He undid42 Bond's ankles, then his wrists. He took Bond's injured hand and twisted it right up his back. Then with his other hand he undid the strap43 round his waist. He yanked Bond to his feet.
'Giddap,' said Tee-Hee.
Bond gazed once more into the great grey face.
'Those who deserve to die,' he paused,' die the death they deserve. Write that down,' he added. 'It's an original thought."
Then he glanced at Solitaire. Her eyes were bent44 on the hands in her lap. She didn't look up.
'Git goin,' said Tee-Hee. He turned Bond round towards the wall and pushed him forward, twisting Bond's wrist up his back until his forearm was almost dislocated. Bond uttered a realistic groan and his footsteps faltered45. He wanted Tee-Hee to believe that he was cowed and docile46. He wanted the torturing grip to ease just a little on his left arm. As it was, any sudden movement would only result in his arm being broken.
Tee-Hee reached over Bond's shoulder and pressed on one of the books in the serried47 shelves. A large section opened on a central pivot48. Bond was pushed through and the negro kicked the heavy section back into place. It closed with a double click. From the thickness of the door, Bond guessed it would be sound-proof. They were faced by a short carpeted passage ending in some stairs that led downwards49. Bond groaned.
'You're breaking my arm,' he said. 'Look out. I'm going to faint.'
He stumbled again, trying to measure exactly the negro's position behind him. He remembered Leiter's injunction: 'Shins, groin, stomach, throat. Hit 'em anywhere else and you'll just break your hand.'
'Shut yo mouf,' said the negro, but he pulled Bond's hand an inch or two down his back.
This was all Bond needed.
They were half way down the passage with only a few feet more to the top of the stairs. Bond faltered again, so that the negro's body bumped into his. This gave him all the range and direction he needed.
He bent a little and his right hand, straight and flat as a board, whipped round and inwards. He felt it thud hard into the target. The negro screamed shrilly50 like a wounded rabbit. Bond felt his left arm come free. He whirled round, pulling out his empty gun with his right hand. The negro was bent double, his hands between his legs, uttering little panting screams. Bond whipped the gun down hard on the back of the woolly skull51. It gave back a dull klonk as if he had hammered on a door, but the negro groaned and fell forward on his knees, throwing out his hands for support. Bond got behind him and with all the force he could put behind the steel-capped shoe, he gave one mighty52 kick below the lavender-coloured seat of the negro's pants.
A final short scream was driven out of the man as he sailed the few feet to the stairs. His head hit the side of the iron banisters and then, a twisting wheel of arms and legs, he disappeared over the edge, down into the well. There was a short crash as he caromed off some obstacle, then a pause, then a mingled53 thud and crack as he hit the ground. Then silence.
Bond wiped the sweat out of his eyes and stood listening. He thrust his wounded left hand into his coat. It was throbbing54 with pain and swollen55 to almost twice its normal size. Holding his gun in his right hand, he walked to the head of the stairs and slowly down, moving softly on the balls of his feet.
There was only one floor between him and the spread-eagled body below. When he reached the landing, he stopped again and listened. Quite close, he could hear the high-pitched whine56 of some form of fast wireless57 transmitter. He verified that it came from behind one of the two doors on the landing. This must be Mr. Big's'communications centre. He longed to carry out a quick raid. But his gun was empty and he had no idea how many men he would find in the room. It could only have been the earphones on their ears that had prevented the operators from hearing the sounds of Tee-Hee's fall. He crept on down.
Tee-Hee was either dead or dying. He lay spread-eagled on his back. His striped tie lay across his face like a squashed adder58. Bond felt no remorse59. He frisked the body for a gun and found one stuck in the waistband of the lavender trousers, now stained with blood. It was a Colt .38 Detective Special with a sawn barrel. All chambers60 were loaded. Bond slipped the useless Beretta back in its holster. He nestled the big gun into his palm and smiled grimly.
A small door faced him, bolted on the inside. Bond put his ear to it. The muffled61 sound of an engine reached him. This must be the garage. But the running engine? At that time of the morning? Bond ground his teeth. Of course. Mr. Big would have spoken on the intercom and warned them that Tee-Hee was bringing him down. They must be wondering what was holding him. They were probably watching the door for the negro to emerge.
Bond thought for a moment. He had the advantage of surprise. If only the bolts were well-oiled.
His left hand was almost useless. With the Colt in his right, he' tested the first bolt with the edge of his damaged hand. It slipped easily back. So did the second. There remained only a press-down handle. He eased it down and pulled the door softly towards him.
It was a thick door and the noise of the engine got louder as the crack widened. The car must be just outside. Any further movement of the door would betray him. He whipped it open and stood facing sideways like a fencer so as to offer as small a target as possible. The hammer lay back on his gun.
A few feet away stood a black sedan, its engine running. It faced the open double doors of the garage. Bright arc-lights lit up the shining bodywork of several other cars. There was a big negro at the wheel of the sedan and another stood near him, leaning against the rear door. No one else was in view.
At sight of Bond the negroes' mouths fell open in astonishment62. A cigarette dropped from the mouth of the man at the wheel. Then they both dived for their guns.
Instinctively63, Bond shot first at the man standing64, knowing he would be quickest on the draw.
The heavy gun roared hollowly in the garage.
The negro clutched his stomach with both hands, staggered two steps towards Bond, and collapsed65 on his face, his gun clattering66 on to the concrete.
The man at the wheel screamed as Bond's gun swung on to him. Hampered67 by the wheel the negro's shooting hand was still inside his coat.
Bond shot straight into the screaming mouth and the man's head crashed against the side window.
Bond ran round the car and opened the door. The negro sprawled68 horribly out. Bond threw his revolver on to the driving-seat and yanked the body out on to the ground. He tried to avoid the blood. He got into the seat and blessed the running engine and the steering-wheel gear-lever. He slammed the door, rested his injured hand on the left of the wheel and crashed the lever forward.
The hand-brake was still on. He had to lean under the wheel to release it with his right hand.
It was a dangerous pause. As the heavy car surged forward out of the wide doors there was the boom of a gun and a bullet hammered into the bodywork. He tore the wheel round right-handed and there was another shot that missed high. Across the street a window splintered.
The flash came from low down near the floor and Bond guessed that the first negro had somehow managed to reach his gun.
There were no other shots and no sound came from the blank faces of the buildings behind him. As he went through the gears he could see nothing in the driving-mirror except the broad bar of light from the garage shining out across the dark empty street.
Bond had no idea where he was or where he was heading. It was a wide featureless street and he kept going. He found himself driving on the left-hand side and quickly swerved69 over to the right. His hand hurt terribly but the thumb and forefinger70 helped to steady the wheel. He tried to remember to keep his left side away from the blood on the door and window. The endless street was populated only by the little ghosts of steam that wavered up out of the gratings in the asphalt that gave access to the piped heat system of the city. The ugly bonnet71 of the car mowed72 them down one by one, but in the driving-mirror Bond could see them rising again behind him in a diminishing vista73 of mildly gesticulating white wraiths74.
He kept the big car at fifty. He came to some red traffic lights and jumped them. Several more dark blocks and then there was a lighted avenue. There was traffic and he paused until the lights went green. He turned left and was rewarded by a succession of green lights, each one sweeping75 him on and further away from the enemy. He checked at an intersection76 and read the signs. He was on Park Avenue and 116th Street. He slowed again at the next street. It was 115th. He was heading downtown, away from Harlem, back into the City. He kept going. He turned off at Goth Street. It was deserted77. He switched off the engine and left the car opposite a fire hydrant. He took the gun off the seat, shoved it down the waistband of his trousers and walked back to Park Avenue.
A few minutes later he flagged a prowling cab and then suddenly he was walking up the steps of the St. Regis.
'Message for you, Mr. Bond,' said the night porter. Bond kept his left side away from him. He opened the message with his right hand. It was from Felix Leiter, timed at four a.m. 'Call me at once,' it said.
Bond walked to the elevator and was carried up to his floor. He let himself into 21:00 and went through into the sitting-room78.
So both of them were alive. Bond fell into a chair beside the telephone.
'God Almighty,' said Bond with deep gratitude79. 'What a break.'
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1
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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4
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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7
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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inanely
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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10
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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12
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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13
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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lobes
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| n.耳垂( lobe的名词复数 )；（器官的）叶；肺叶；脑叶 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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16
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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17
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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18
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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envelops
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的第三人称单数 ) | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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gangster
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| n.匪徒，歹徒，暴徒 | |
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anonymity
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| n.the condition of being anonymous | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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44
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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45
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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46
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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50
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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51
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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52
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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53
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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54
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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55
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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56
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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57
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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58
adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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59
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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60
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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61
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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62
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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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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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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66
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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67
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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69
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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72
mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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74
wraiths
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| n.幽灵( wraith的名词复数 )；（传说中人在将死或死后不久的）显形阴魂 | |
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75
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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76
intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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77
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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78
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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79
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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