Well, he would be wise to assume that it was only a matter of hours and then they would come for him. They wouldn't do it until after lights-out. To do it before would cause too much talk among the girls. No, they would fetch him at night and the next day it would be put about that he had left by the first cable car down to the valley. Meanwhile he would be buried deep in a snow overcoat, or more likely deposited in a high crevasse9 in the near-by Piz Languard glacier10, to come out at the bottom, fifty years later, out of his deep freeze, with multiple contusions but no identification marks -a nameless victim of 'les neiges eternelles'!
Yes, he must plan for that. Bond got up from the desk where he had been automatically scribbling11 down lists of fifteenth-century de Bleuvilles and opened the window. The snow had stopped and there was broken blue in the sky. It would be perfect powder snow, perhaps a foot of it, on the Gloria Run. Now to make everything ready!
There are hundreds of secret inks, but there was only one available to Bond, the oldest one in the world, his own urine. He went into the bathroom (what must the televising eye think of his digestive tracts12?) with his pen, a clean nib13, and his passport. Then he sat down and proceeded to transcribe14, from the flimsy pieces of paper in his pocket on, to a blank page of his passport, the names and approximate locations by county of the girls. The page showed nothing. Held in front of a flame, the writing would come up brown. He slipped the passport into his hip-pocket. Next he took the gloves from under his sweater, tried them on, and found them an adequate but tight fit, took the top off the lavatory15 cistern16 and laid the gloves along the arm of the stop-cock.
What else? It was going to be fiendishly cold at the start, but his body would soon be drenched17 in sweat. He would just have to make do with the ski-clothes he possessed18, the gloves, the goggles19 that had been placed on his table, and the fiat20 glass flask21 of schnapps that he would carry in one of his side pockets and not, in case of a fall, in his hip-pocket. Extra covering for his face? Bond thought of using one of his warm vests and cutting eye-holes in it. But it would surely slip and perhaps blind him. He had some dark-red silk bandana handkerchiefs. He would tie one tight over his face below the goggles and discard it if it interfered22 with his breathing. So! That was the lot! There was nothing else he could do or insure against. The rest was up to the Fates. Bond relaxed his thoughts and went out and back to his desk. He sat down and bent23 to his paper-work and tried not to listen to the hastening tick of the Rolex on his wrist, tried to fix in his mind the rough geography of the Gloria Run he had inadequately24 learned from the metal map. It was too late now to go and have another look at it. He must stay put and continue to play the toothless tiger!
* * *
Dinner was as ghastly as lunch. Bond concentrated on getting plenty of whisky and food under his belt. He made urbane25 conversation and pretended he didn't notice the chill in the air. Then he gave Ruby's foot one warm press under the table, excused himself on the grounds of work, and strode with dignity out of the room.
He had changed for dinner and he was relieved to find his ski-clothes in the half-tidy heap in which he had left them. He went, with utter normalcy, about his work - sharpened pencils, laid out his books, bent to the squared paper: ' Simon de Bleuville, 1510-1570. Alphonse de Bleuville, 1546-1580, married 1571 Mariette d'Escourt, and had issue, Jean, Francoise, Pierre'. Thank God he would soon be released from all this blether!
9.15,9.30,9.45,10! Bond felt the excitement ball up inside him like cat's fur. He found that his hands were wet. He wiped them down the sides of his trousers. He got up and stretched. He went into the bathroom and made appropriate noises, retrieved26 the gloves, and laid them on the bathroom floor just inside the door. Then, naked, he came back into the room and got into bed and switched off the light. He regularized his breathing and, in ten minutes, began to snore softly. He gave it another ten, then slid out of bed and, with infinite precaution, dressed himself in his ski clothes. He softly retrieved his gloves from the bathroom, put on the goggles so that they rested in his hair above the forehead, tied the dark-red handkerchief tightly across his nose, schnapps into pocket, passport into hip-pocket and, finally, Gillette through the fingers of the left hand and the Rolex transferred to his right, the bracelet27 clasped in the palm of his hand and round the fingers so that the face of the watch lay across his middle knuckles28.
James Bond paused and ran over his equipment. The ski-gloves, their cord drawn29 through his sweater and down the sleeves, hung from his wrists. They would be a hindrance30 until he was outside. Nothing to be done about that. The rest was all right. He was set! He bent to the door, manipulated the lock with the plastic and, praying that the television eye had been closed down and would not see the light shining in from the passage, listened briefly31 and slipped out.
There was, as usual, light from the reception room to his left. Bond crept along, inched round the door jamb. Yes! The guard was there, bent over something that looked like a time sheet. The neck was offered. Bond dropped the Gillette in his pocket and stiffened32 the fingers of his left hand into the old Commando cutting edge. He took the two steps into the room and crashed the hand down on the back of the offered neck. The man's face hit the table top with a thud, bounced up, and half turned towards Bond. Bond's right flashed out and the face of the Rolex disintegrated33 against the man's jaw34. The body slid sluggishly35 off its chair on to the carpet and lay still, its legs untidy as if in sleep. The eyes fluttered and stared, unseeing, upwards36. Bond went round the desk and bent down. There was no heartbeat. Bond straightened himself. It was the man he had seen coming back alone from the bob-run on his first morning, when Bertil had met with his accident. So! Rough justice!
The telephone on the desk buzzed like a trapped wasp37. Bond looked at it. He picked up the receiver and spoke38 through the handkerchief across his mouth. 'Ja?'
'Alles in Ordnung?'
'Ja.'
'Also hor zu! Wir kornmen fur den5 Englander in zehn Minuten. Verstanden?'
'Is'recht.'
'Also, aufpassen. Ja?'
'ZuBefehl!'
At the other end the receiver went down. The sweat was beading on Bond's face. Thank God he had answered! So they were coming for him in ten minutes! There was a bunch of keys on the desk. Bond snatched them Up and ran to the front door. After three misfits, he had the right one. He tried the door. It was now only held by its air-pressure device. Bond leaped for the ski-room. Unlocked! He went in and, by the light from the reception room, found his skis. There were sticks beside them. Carefully he lifted everything out of its wooden slot and strode to the main door and opened it. He laid the skis and sticks softly down in the snow, turned back to the door, locked it from the outside, and threw the keys far away into the snow.
The three-quarter moon burned down with an almost dazzling fire and the snow crystals scintillated39 back at it like a carpet of diamond dust. Now minutes would have to be wasted getting the bindings absolutely right. James Bond kicked one boot into the groove40 of the Marker toe-hold and knelt down, feeling for the steel cable that went behind his heel. It was too short. Coolly, unhurriedly, he adjusted the regulating screw on the forward latch41 and tried again. This time it was all right. He pressed down on the safety latch and felt it lock his boot into the toe-hold. Next, the safety thong42 round the top of his boot that would keep the ski prisoner if the latch sprung, which it would do with a fall. His fingers were beginning to freeze. The tip of the thong refused to find its buckle43! A full minute wasted! Got it! And now the same job on the other ski. At last Bond stood up, slipped the gloves over his aching fingers, picked up the lance-like sticks, and pushed himself off along the faint ridge44 that showed the outlines of yesterday's well trodden path. It felt all right! He pulled the goggles down over his eyes and now the vast snowscape was a silvery green as if he was swimming under sunny water. The skis hissed45 smoothly46 through the powder snow. Bond tried to get up more speed down the gentle slope by langlaufing, the sliding, forward stride of the first Norwegian skiers. But it didn't work. The heels of his boots felt nailed to the skis. He punted himself forward as fast as he could with his sticks. God, what a trail he must be leaving - like a tram-line! As soon as they got the front door open, they would be after him. Their fastest guide would certainly catch him easily unless he got a good start! Every minute, every second was a bonus. He passed between the black outlines of the cable head and the Berghaus. There was the starting point of the Gloria Run, the metal notices beside it hatted with snow! Bond didn't pause. He went straight for it and over the edge.
The first vertical47 drop had a spine-chilling bliss48 to it. Bond got down into his old Arlberg crouch49, his hands forward of his boots, and just let himself go. His skis were an ugly six inches apart. The Kannonen he had watched had gone down with their boots locked together, as if on a single ski. But this was no time for style, even if he had been capable of it! Above all he must stay upright!
Bond's speed was now frightening. But the deep cushion of cold, light powder snow gave him the confidence to try a parallel swing. Minimum of shoulder turn needed at this speed - weight on to the left ski - and he came round and held it as the right-hand edges of his skis bit against the slope, throwing up a shower of moon-lit snow crystals. Danger was momentarily forgotten in the joy of speed, technique, and mastery of the snow. Bond straightened up and almost dived into his next turn, this time to the left, leaving a broad S on the virgin50 mountain behind him. Now he could afford to schuss the rest down to the hard left-hand turn round the shoulder. He pointed51 his skis down and felt real rapture52 as, like a black bullet on the giant slope, he zoomed53 down the 45-degree drop. Now for the left-hand corner. There was the group of three flags, black, red, and yellow, hanging limply, their colours confused by the moonlight! He would have to stop there and take a recce over the next lap. There was a slight upward slope short of the big turn. Bond took it at speed, felt his skis leave the ground at the crest54 of it, jabbed into the snow with his left stick as an extra lever and threw his skis and his right shoulder and hips55 round to the left. He landed in a spray of snow, at a dead halt. He was delighted with himself! A Sprung-Christiana is a showy and not an easy turn at speed. He wished his old teacher, Fuchs, had been there to see that one!
He was now on the shoulder of the mountain. High overhead the silver strands56 of the cable railway plunged57 downwards58 in one great swoop59 towards the distant black line of the trees, where the moonlight glinted on a spidery pylon60. Bond remembered that there now followed a series of great zigs and zags more or less beneath the cables. With the piste unobscured, it would have been easy, but the new snow made every descent look desirable. Bond jerked up his goggles to see if he could spot a flag. Yes, there was one away down to the left. He would do some S turns down the next slope and then make for it.
As he pulled down his goggles and gripped his sticks, two things happened. First there came a deep boom from high up the mountain, and a speck61 of flame, that wobbled in its flight, soared into the sky above him. There was a pause at the top of its parabola, a sharp crack, and a blazing magnesium62 flare63 on a parachute began its wandering descent, wiping out the black shadows in the hollows, turning everything into a hideous64 daylight. Another and another sprayed out across the sky, lighting65 every cranny over the mountain side.
And, at the same time, the cables high above Bond's head began to sing! They were sending the cable car down after him!
Bond cursed into the sodden66 folds of his silk handkerchief and got going. The next thing would be a man after him -probably a man with a gun!
He took the second lap more carefully than the first, got across to the second flag, turned at it and made back across the plunging67 slope for the series of linked S's under the cables. How fast did these bloody68 gondolas69 go? Ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour? This was the latest type. It would be the fastest. Hadn't he read somewhere that the one between Arosa and the Weisshorn did 25? Even as he got into his first S, the tune71 of the singing cable above him momentarily changed and then went back to its usual whine72. That was the gondola70 passing the first pylon! Bond's knees, the Achilles heel of all skiers, were beginning to ache. He cut his S's narrower, snaking down faster, but now feeling the rutted tracks of the piste under his skis at every turn. Was that a flag away over to the left? The magnesium flares73 were swaying lower, almost directly over him. Yes. It looked all right. Two more S turns and he would do a traverse schuss to it!
Something landed with a tremendous crack amidst a fountain of snow to his right! Another to his left! They had a grenade-thrower up front in the cable car! A bracket! Would the next one be dead on? Almost before the thought flashed through his mind, there came a tremendous explosion just ahead of him and he was hurled74 forward and sideways in a Catherine wheel of sticks and skis.
Bond got gingerly to his feet, gasping75 and spitting snow. One of his bindings had opened. His trembling fingers found the forward latch and banged it tight again. Another sharp crack, but wide by twenty yards. He must get away from the line of fire from the blasted railway! Feverishly76 he thought, the left-hand flag! I must do the traverse now. He took a vague bearing across the precipitous slope and flung himself down it.
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1
pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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3
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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6
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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7
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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8
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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9
crevasse
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| n. 裂缝，破口；v.使有裂缝 | |
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glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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11
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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12
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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13
nib
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| n.钢笔尖；尖头 | |
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14
transcribe
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| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
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15
lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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16
cistern
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| n.贮水池 | |
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17
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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23
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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24
inadequately
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| ad.不够地；不够好地 | |
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25
urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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26
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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27
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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28
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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29
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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32
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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33
disintegrated
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
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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sluggishly
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| adv.懒惰地；缓慢地 | |
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36
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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37
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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38
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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39
scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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41
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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42
thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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43
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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44
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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45
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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46
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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47
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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48
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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49
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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50
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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51
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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52
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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53
zoomed
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| v.（飞机、汽车等）急速移动( zoom的过去式 )；（价格、费用等）急升，猛涨 | |
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54
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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55
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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56
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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58
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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59
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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60
pylon
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| n.高压电线架，桥塔 | |
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61
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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62
magnesium
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| n.镁 | |
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63
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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64
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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65
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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66
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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67
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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68
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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69
gondolas
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| n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 )；货架（一般指商店，例如化妆品店）；吊船工作台 | |
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70
gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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71
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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72
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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73
flares
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| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
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74
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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75
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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76
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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