'I must go and tidy myself,' she said. 'I expect you've both got plenty to talk about.'
'Of course,' said Leiter, jumping up. 'Crazy of me! You must be dead beat. Guess you'd better take James's room and he can bed down with me."
Solitaire followed him out into the little hall and Bond heard Leiter explaining the arrangement of the rooms.
In a moment Leiter came back with a bottle of Haig and Haig and some ice.
'I'm forgetting my manners,' he said. 'We could both do with a drink. There's a small pantry next the bathroom and I've stocked it with all we're likely to need!'
He fetched some soda-water and they both took a long drink.
'Let's have the details,' said Bond, sitting back. 'Must have been the hell of a fine job.'
'Sure was,' agreed Leiter, 'except for the shortage of corpses1.'
He put his feet on the table and lit a cigarette.
'Phantom2 left Jacksonville around five,' he began. 'Got to Waldo around six. Just after leaving Waldo - and here I'm guessing - Mr. Big's man comes along to your car, gets into the next compartment3 to yours and hangs a towel between the drawn4 blind and the window, meaning - and he must have done a good deal of telephoning at stations on the way down - meaning "the window to the right of this towel is it".
'There's a long stretch of straight track between Waldo and Ocala,' continued Leiter, 'running through forest and swamp land. State highway right alongside the track. About twenty minutes outside Waldo, Wham! goes a dynamite5 emergency signal under the leading Diesel6. Driver comes down to forty. Wham! And another Wham! Three in line! Emergency! Halt at once! He halts the train wondering what the hell. Straight track. Last signal green over green. Nothing in sight. It's around quarter after six and just getting light. There's a sedan, clouted7 heap I expect [Bond raised an eyebrow8. 'Stolen car,' explained Leiter], grey, thought to have been a Buick, no lights, engine running, waiting on the highway opposite the centre of the train. Three men get out. Coloured. Probably negro. They walk slowly in line abreast9 along the grass verge11 between the road and the track. Two on the outside carry rippers - tommy-guns. Man in the centre has something in his hand. Twenty yards and they stop outside Car 245. Men with the rippers give a double squirt at your window. Open it up for the pineapple. Centre man tosses in the pineapple and all three run back to the car. Two seconds fuse. As they reach the car, BOOM! Fricassee of Compartment H. Fricassee, presumably, of Mr. and Mrs. Bryce. In fact fricassee of your Baldwin who runs out and crouches12 in corridor directly he sees men approaching his car. No other casualties except multiple shock and hysterics throughout train. Car drives away very fast towards limbo13 where it still is and will probably remain. Silence, mingled14 with screams, falls. People run to and fro. Train limps gingerly into Ocala. Drops Car 245. Is allowed to proceed three hours later. Scene II. Leiter sits alone in cottage, hoping he has never said an unkind word to his friend James, and wondering how Mr. Hoover will have Mr. Leiter served for his dinner tonight. That's all, folks.'
Bond laughed. 'What an organization!' he said. 'I'm sure it's all beautifully covered up and alibied. What a man! He certainly seems to have the run of this country. Just shows how one can push a democracy around, what with habeas corpus and human rights and all the rest. Glad we haven't got him on our hands in England. Wooden truncheons wouldn't make much of a dent16 in him. Well,' he concluded,' that's three times I've managed to get away with it. The pace is beginning to get a bit hot.'
'Yes,' said Leiter thoughtfully. 'Before you arrived over here you could have counted the mistakes Mr. Big has ever made on one thumb. Now he's made three all in a row. He won't like that. We've got to put the heat on him while he's still groggy17 and then get out, quick. Tell you what I've got in mind. There's no doubt that gold gets into the States through this place. We've tracked the Secatur again and again and she just comes straight over from Jamaica to St. Petersburg and docks at that worm-and-bait factory - Rubberus or whatever it's called.'
'Ourobouros,' said Bond. 'The Great Worm of mythology18. Good name for a worm-and-bait factory.' Suddenly a thought struck him. He hit the glass table-top with the flat of his hand. 'Felix! Of course. Ourobouros - "The Robber" - don't you see? Mr. Big's man down here. It must be the same.'
Leiter's face lit up. 'Christ Almighty,' he exclaimed.
'Of course it's the same. That Greek who's supposed to own it, the man in Tarpon Springs that figures in the reports that blockhead showed us in New York, Binswanger. He's probably just a figurehead. Probably doesn't even know there's anything phoney about it. It's his manager here we've got to get after. "The Robber." Of course that's who it is.'
Leiter jumped up.
'G'mon. Let's get going. We'll go right along and look the place over. I was going to suggest it anyway, seeing the Secatur always docks at their wharf19. She's in Cuba now, by the way,' he added, 'Havana. Cleared from here a week ago. They searched her good and proper when she came in and when she left. Didn't find a thing, of course. Thought she might have a false keel. Almost tore it off. She had to go into dock before she could sail again. Nix. Not a shadow of anything wrong. Let alone a stack of gold coins. Anyway, we'll go and smell around. See if we can get a look at our Robber friend. I'll just have to talk to Orlando and Washington. Tell 'em all we know. They must catch up quick with The Big Man's fellow on the train. Probably too late by now. You go and see how Solitaire's getting on. Tell her she's not to move till we get back. Lock her in. We'll take her out to dinner in Tampa. They've got the best restaurant on the whole coast, Cuban, "Los Novedades". We'll stop at the airport on the way and fix her flight for tomorrow.'
Leiter reached for the telephone and asked for Long Distance. Bond left him to it.
Ten minutes later they were on their way.
Solitaire had not wanted to be left. She had clung to Bond. 'I want to get away from here,' she said, her eyes frightened. 'I have a feeling…' She didn't end the sentence. Bond kissed her.
'It's all right,' he said. 'We'll be back in an hour or so. Nothing can happen to you here. Then I shan't leave you until you're on the plane. We can even stay the night in Tampa and get you off at first light.'
'Yes, please,' said Solitaire anxiously. I'd rather do that. I'm frightened here. I feel in danger.' She put her arms round his neck. 'Don't think I'm being hysterical20.' She kissed him. 'Now you can go. I just wanted to see you. Gome back quickly.'
Leiter had called and Bond had closed the door on her and locked it.
He followed Leiter to his car on the Parkway feeling vaguely21 troubled. He couldn't imagine that the girl could come to any harm in this peaceful, law-abiding place, or that The Big Man could conceivably have traced her to The Everglades, which was only one of a hundred similar beach establishments on Treasure Island. But he respected the extraordinary power of her intuitions and her attack of nerves made him uneasy.
The sight of Leiter's car put these thoughts out of his mind.
Bond liked fast cars and he liked driving them. Most American cars bored him. They lacked personality and the patina22 of individual craftsmanship23 that European cars have. They were just Vehicles', similar in shape and in colour, and even in the tone of their horns. Designed to serve for a year and then be turned in in part exchange for the next year's model. All the fun of driving had been taken out of them with the abolition24 of a gear-change, with hydraulic-assisted steering25 and spongy suspension. All effort had been smoothed away and all of that close contact with the machine and the road that extracts skill and nerve from the European driver. To Bond, American cars were just beetle-shaped Dodgems in which you motored along with one hand on the wheel, the ladio full on, and the power-operated windows closed to keep out the draughts26.
But Leiter had got hold of an old Cord, one of the few American cars with a personality, and it cheered Bond to climb into the low-hung saloon, to hear the solid bite of the gears and the masculine tone of the wide exhaust. Fifteen years old, he reflected, yet still one of the most modern-looking cars in the world.
They swung on to the causeway and across the wide expanse of unrippled water that separates the twenty miles of narrow island from the broad peninsula sprawling27 with St. Petersburg and its suburbs.
Already as they idled up Central Avenue on their way across the town to the Yacht Basin and the main harbour and the big hotels, Bond caught a whiff of the atmosphere that makes the town the 'Old Folks Home' of America. Everyone on the sidewalks had white hair, white or blue, and the famous Sidewalk Davenports that Solitaire had described were thick with oldsters sitting in rows like the starlings in Trafalgar Square.
Bond noted28 the small grudging29 mouths of the women, the sun gleaming on their pince-nez; the stringy, collapsed30 chests and arms of the men displayed to the sunshine in Truman shirts. The fluffy31, sparse32 balls of hair on the women showing the pink scalp. The bony bald heads of the men. And, everywhere, a prattling33 camaraderie35, a swapping36 of news and gossip, a making of folksy dates for the shuffle37 board and the bridge-table, a handing round of letters from children and grandchildren, a tut-tutting about prices in the shops and the motels.
You didn't have to be amongst them to hear it all. It was all in the nodding and twittering of the balls of blue fluff, the back-slapping and hawk38-an-spitting of the little old baldheads.
'It makes you want to climb right into the tomb and pull the lid down,' said Leiter at Bond's exclamations39 of horror. 'You wait till we get out and walk. If they see your shadow coming up the sidewalk behind them they jump out of the way as if you were the Chief Cashier coming to look over their shoulders in the bank. It's ghastly. Makes me think of the bank clerk who went home unexpectedly at midday and found the President of the bank sleeping with his wife. He went back and told his pals40 in the ledger41 department and said, "Gosh, fellers, he nearly caught me!" '
Bond laughed.
'You can hear all the presentation gold watches ticking in their pockets,' said Leiter. 'Place is full of undertakers, and pawnshops stuffed with gold watches and masonic rings and bits of jet and lockets full of hair. Makes you shiver to think of it all. Wait till you go to "Aunt Milly's Place" and see them all in droves mumbling42 over their corn-beef hash and cheeseburgers, trying to keep alive till ninety. It'll frighten the life out of you. But they're not all old down here. Take a look at that ad over there.' He pointed43 towards a big hoarding44 on a deserted45 lot.
It was an advertisement for maternity46 clothes. 'STUTZ HEIMER & BLOCK,' it Said, 'IT'S NEW! OUR ANTICIPATION DEPARTMENT, AND AFTER! CLOTHES FOR CHIPS (1-4) AND TWIGS47 (4-8).'
Bond groaned48. 'Let's get away from here,' he said. 'This is really beyond the call of duty.'
They came down to the waterfront and turned right until they came to the seaplane base and the coastguard station. The streets were free of oldsters and here there was the normal life of a harbour - wharves49, warehouses51, a ship's chandler, some up-turned boats, nets drying, the cry of seagulls, the. rather fetid smell coming in off the bay. After the teeming52 boneyard of the town the sign over the garage: 'Drive-ur-Self. Pat Grady. The Smiling Irishman. Used cars,' was a cheerful reminder53 of a livelier, bustling54 world.
'Better get out and walk,' said Leiter. 'The Robber's place is in the next block.'
They left the car beside the harbour and sauntered along past a timber warehouse50 and some oil-storage tanks. Then they turned left again towards the sea.
The side-road ended at a small weather-beaten wooden jetty that reached out twenty feet on barnacled piles into the bay. Right up against its open gate was a long low corrugated-iron warehouse. Over its wide double doors was painted, black on white, 'Ourobouros Inc. Live Worm and Bait Merchants. Coral, Shells, Tropical Fish. Wholesale55 only.' In one of the double doors there was a smaller door with a gleaming Yale lock. On the door was a sign: 'Private. Keep Out.'
Against this a man sat on a kitchen chair, its back tilted56 so that the door supported his weight. He was cleaning a rifle, a Remington 30 it looked like to Bond. He had a wooden toothpick sticking out of his mouth and a battered57 baseball cap on the back of his head. He was wearing a stained white singlet that revealed tufts of black hair under his arms, and slept-in white canvas trousers and rubber-soled sneakers. He was around forty and his face was as knotted and seamed as the mooring58 posts on the jetty. It was a thin, hatchet59 face, and the lips were thin too, and bloodless. His complexion60 was the colour of tobacco dust, a sort of yellowy-beige. He looked cruel and cold, like the bad man in a film about poker-players and gold mines.
Bond and Leiter walked past him and on to the pier61. He didn't look up from his rifle as they went past but Bond sensed that his eyes were following them.
'If that isn't The Robber,' said Leiter, Ht's a blood relation.'
A pelican62, grey with a pale yellow head, was hunched63 on one of the mooring posts at the end of the jetty. He let them get very close, then reluctantly gave a few heavy beats of his wings and planed down towards the water. The two men stood and watched him flying slowly along just above the surface of the harbour. Suddenly he crashed clumsily down, his long bill snaking out and down in front of him. It came up clutching a small fish which he moodily64 swallowed. Then the heavy bird got up again and went on fishing, flying mostly into the sun so that its big shadow would give no warning. When Bond and Leiter turned to walk back down the jetty it gave up fishing and glided65 back to its post. It settled with a clatter66 of wings and resumed its thoughtful consideration of the late afternoon.
The man was still bent67 over his gun, wiping the mechanism68 with an oily rag.
'Good afternoon,' said Leiter. 'You the manager of this wharf?'
'Yep,' said the man without looking up.
'Wondered if there was any chance of mooring my boat here. Basin's pretty crowded.'
'Nope.'
Leiter took out his notecase. 'Would twenty talk?'
'Nope.' The man gave a rattling34 hawk in his throat and spat69 directly between Bond and Leiter.
'Hey,' said Leiter. 'You want to watch your manners.'
The man deliberated. He looked up at Leiter. He had small, close-set eyes as cruel as a painless dentist's. x 'What's a name of your boat?'
'The Sybil,' said Leiter.
'Ain't no sich boat in the Basin,' said the man. He clicked the breech shut on his rifle. It lay casually70 on his lap pointing down the approach to the warehouse, away from the sea.
'You're blind,' said Leiter. 'Been there a week. Sixty-foot twin-screw Diesel. White with a green awning71. Rigged for fishing.'
The rifle started to move lazilv in a low arc. The man's left hand was at the trigger, his right just in front of the trigger-guard, pivoting72 the gun.
They stood still.
The man sat lazily looking down at the breech, his chair still tilted against the small door with the yellow Yale lock.
The gun slowly traversed Leiter's stomach, then Bond's. The two men stood like statues, not risking a move of the hand. The gun stopped pivoting. It was pointing down the wharf. The Robber looked briefly73 up, narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The pelican gave a fault squawk and they heard its heavy body crash into the water. The echo of the shot boomed across the harbour.
'What the hell d'you do that for?' asked Bond furiously.
'Practice,' said the man, pumping another bullet into the breech.
'Guess there's a branch of the ASPCA in this town,' said Leiter. 'Let's get along there and report this guy.'
'Want to be prosecuted74 for trespass75?' asked The Robber, getting slowly up and shifting the gun under his arm. 'This is private property. Now,' he spat the words out, 'git the hell out of here.' He turned and yanked the chair away from the door, opened the door with a key and turned with one foot on the threshold. 'You both got guns,' he said. 'I kin15 smell 'em. You come aroun' here again and you follow the boid 'n I plead self-defence. I've had a bellyful of you lousy dicks aroun' here lately breathin' down my neck. Sybil my ass10!' He turned contemptuously through the door and slammed it so that the frame rattled76.
They looked at each other. Leiter grinned ruefully and shrugged77 his shoulders.
'Round One to The Robber,' he said.
They moved off down the dusty sideroad. The sun was setting and the sea behind them was a pool of blood. When they got to the main road, Bond looked back. A big arc light had come on over the door and the approach to the warehouse was stripped of shadows.
'No good trying anything from the front,' said Bond. 'But there's never been a warehouse with only one entrance.'
'Just what I was thinking,' said Leiter. 'We'll save that for the next visit.'
They got into the car and drove slowly home across Central Avenue.
On their way home Leiter asked a string of questions about Solitaire. Finally he said casually: 'By the way, hope I fixed78 the rooms like you want them.'
'Couldn't be better,' said Bond cheerfully.
'Fine,' said Leiter. 'Just occurred to me you two might be hyphenating.'
'You read too much Winchell,' said Bond.
'It's just a delicate way of putting it,' said Leiter. 'Don't forget the walls of those cottages are pretty thin. I use my ears for hearing with - not for collecting lip-stick.'
Bond grabbed for a handkerchief. 'You lousy, goddam sleuth,' he said furiously.
Leiter watched him scrubbing at himself out of the corner of his eye. 'What are you doing?' he asked innocently. 'I wasn't for a moment suggesting the colour of your ears was anything but a natural red. However…' He put a wealth of meaning into the word.
'If you find yourself dead in your bed tonight,' laughed Bond, 'you'll know who did it.'
They were still chaffing each other when they arrived at The Everglades and they were laughing when the grim Mrs. Stuyvesant greeted them on the lawn.
'Pardon me, Mr. Leiter,' she said. 'But I'm afraid we can't allow music here. I can't have the other guests disturbed at all hours.'
They looked at her in astonishment79. 'I'm sorry, Mrs. Stuyvesant,' said Leiter. 'I don't quite get you.'
'That big radiogram you had sent round,' said Mrs. Stuyvesant. 'The men could hardly get the packing-case through the door.'
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1
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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diesel
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| n.柴油发动机，内燃机 | |
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clouted
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| adj.缀补的，凝固的v.（尤指用手）猛击，重打( clout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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crouches
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| n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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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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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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patina
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| n.铜器上的绿锈，年久而产生的光泽 | |
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craftsmanship
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| n.手艺 | |
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abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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camaraderie
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| n.同志之爱，友情 | |
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swapping
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| 交换，交换技术 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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hoarding
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| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
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45
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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maternity
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| n.母性，母道，妇产科病房；adj.孕妇的，母性的 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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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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49
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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53
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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54
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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58
mooring
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| n.停泊处；系泊用具，系船具；下锚v.停泊，系泊（船只）(moor的现在分词) | |
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59
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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60
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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61
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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pelican
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| n.鹈鹕，伽蓝鸟 | |
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63
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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65
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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69
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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72
pivoting
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| n.绕轴旋转，绕公共法线旋转v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的现在分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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75
trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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76
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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