'Commander and Mrs James Bond!' It was the stentorian8 bellow9 of a toast-master. Bond got the impression that a sudden hush10 fell over the elegant crowd in the gilt11 and white drawing-room.
He followed Tracy through the double doors. There was a gush12 of French from Tracy as she exchanged those empty 'Mayfair' kisses, that end up wide of the kissers' ears, with her hostess. Tracy drew Bond forward. 'And this is James. Doesn't he look sweet with that beautiful medal round his neck? Just like the old De Reszke cigarette advertisements!'
'Fasten your seat belts, please, and extinguish your cigarettes.'
Bond awoke, sweating. God Almighty13! What had he done? But no! It wouldn't be like that! Definitely not. He would still have his tough, exciting life, but now there would be Tracy to come home to. Would there be room in his flat in Chelsea? Perhaps he could rent the floor above. And what about May, his Scottish treasure? That would be tricky14. He must somehow persuade her to stay.
The Caravelle hit the runway and there came the roar of jet deflection, and then they were trundling over the tarmac in a light drizzle15. Bond suddenly realized that he had no luggage, that he could go straight to Passport Control and then out and back to his flat to change out of these ridiculous skiing clothes that stank16 of sweat. Would there be a car from the pool for him? There was, with Miss Mary Goodnight sitting beside the driver.
'My God, Mary, this is a hell of a way to spend your Christmas! This is far beyond the line of duty. Anyway, get in the back and tell me why you're not stirring the plum pudding or going to church or something.'
She climbed in to the back seat and he followed. She said, 'You don't seem to know much about Christmas. You make plum puddings at least two months before and let them sort of settle and mature. And church isn't till eleven.' She glanced at him. 'Actually I came to see how you were. I gather you've been in trouble again. You certainly look pretty ghastly. Don't you own a comb? And you haven't shaved. You look like a pirate. And' - she wrinkled her nose -'when did you last have a bath? I wonder they let you out of the airport. You ought to be in quarantine.'
Bond laughed. 'Winter sports are very strenuous17 - all that snowballing and tobogganing. Matter of fact, I was at a Christmas Eve fancy-dress party last night. Kept me up till all hours.'
'In those great clod-hopping boots? I don't believe you.'
'Well, sucks to you! It was on a skating-rink. But seriously, Mary, tell me the score. Why this VIP treatment?'
'M. You're to check with HQ first and then go down to lunch with him at Quarterdeck. Then, after lunch, he's having these men you wanted brought down for a conference.
Everything top priority. So I thought I'd better stand by too. As you're wrecking18 so many other people's Christmases, I thought I might as well throw mine on the slag-heap with the others. Actually, if you want to know, I was only having lunch with an aunt. And I loathe19 turkey and plum pudding. Anyway, I just didn't want to miss the fun and when the duty officer got on to me about an hour ago and told me there was a major flap, I asked him to tell the car to pick me up on the way to the airport.'
Bond said seriously, 'Well, you're a damned good girl. As a matter of fact it's going to be the hell of a rush getting down the bare bones of a report. And I've got something for the lab to do. Will there be someone there?'
'Of course there will. You know M insists on a skeleton staff in every Section, Christmas Day or not. But seriously, James. Have you been in trouble? You really do look awful.'
'Oh, somewhat. You'll get the photo as I dictate20.' The car drew up outside Bond's flat. 'Now be an angel and stir up May while I clean myself up and get out of these bloody21 clothes. Get her to brew22 me plenty of black coffee and to pour two jiggers of our best brandy into the pot. You ask May for what you like. She might even have some plum pudding. Now then, it's nine-thirty. Be a good girl and call the Duty Officer and say OK to M's orders and that we'll be along by ten-thirty. And get him to ask the lab to stand by in half an hour.' Bond took his passport out of his hip-pocket. 'Then give this to the driver and ask him to get the hell over and give it to the Duty Officer personally. Tell the DO' - Bond turned down the corner of a page -'to tell the lab that the ink used is - er - home-made. All it needs is exposure to heat. They'll understand. Got that? Good girl. Now come on and we'll get May going.' Bond went up the steps and rang two shorts and a long on the bell.
* * *
When Bond got to his desk a few minutes after ten-thirty, feeling back to nine-tenths human, he found a folder23 on his desk with the red star in the top right corner that meant
Top Secret. It contained his passport and a dozen copies of blown-up photostats of its page 21. The list of girls' names was faint but legible. There was also a note marked 'personal'. Bond opened it. He laughed. It just said, "The ink showed traces of an excess of uric acid. This is often due to a super-abundancy of alcohol in the blood-stream. You have been warned!' There was no signature. So the Christmas spirit had permeated24 even into the solemn crevices25 of one of the most secret Sections in the building! Bond crumpled26 the paper and then, thinking of Mary Goodnight's susceptibilities, more prudently27 burned it with his lighter28.
She came in and sat down with her shorthand book. Bond said, 'Now this is only a first draft, Mary, and it's got to be fast. So don't mind about mistakes. M'U understand. We've got about an hour and a half if I'm to get down to Windsor by lunch-time. Think you can manage it? All right then, here goes. "Top Secret. Personal to M. As instructed, on December 22nd I arrived at Zurich Central Airport at 1330 by Swissair to make first contact in connexion with Operation 'Corona'…"'
Bond turned sideways to his secretary and, as he talked, looked out across the bare trees in Regent's Park, remembering every minute of the last three days - the sharp, empty smell of the air and the snow, the dark green pools of Blofeld's eyes, the crunch29 as the edge of his left hand, still bruised30, thudded down across the offered neck of the guard. And then all the rest until Tracy, whom, without mention of romance, he left in his report on her way to the Vier Jahres-zeiten in Munich. Then the report was finished and the muted clack of Mary's typewriter came from behind the closed door. He would ring Tracy up that night when he got back to his flat. He could already hear her laughing voice at the other end of the wire. The nightmare in the plane was forgotten. Now there was only the happy, secret looking-forward to the days to come. Bond lost himself in his plans -how to get the days off, how to get the necessary papers, where to have the service in Scotland. Then he pulled himself together, picked up the photostat containing the girls'
names and went up to the Communications Centre to get on the teleprinter to Station Z.
* * *
M would have preferred to live by the sea, near Plymouth perhaps or Bristol - anywhere where he could see the stuff whenever he wanted to and could listen to it at night. As it was, and since he had to be within easy call of London, he had chosen the next best thing to water, trees, and had found a small Regency manor-house on the edge of Windsor Forest. This was on Crown Lands, and Bond had always suspected that an ounce of'Grace and Favour' had found its way into M's lease. The head of the Secret Service earned ?5,000 a year, with the use of an ancient Rolls Royce and driver thrown in. M's naval31 pay (as a Vice-Admiral on the retired32 list) would add perhaps another ?1,500. After taxes, he would have about ?4,000 to spend. His London life would probably take at least half of that. Only if his rent and rates came to no more than ?500, would he be able to keep a house in the country, and a beautiful small Regency house at that.
These thoughts ran again through Bond's mind as he swung the clapper of the brass33 ship's-bell of some former HMS Repulse34, the last of whose line, a battle-cruiser, had been M's final sea-going appointment. Hammond, M's Chief Petty Officer in that ship, who had followed M into retirement35, greeted Bond as an old friend, and he was shown into M's study.
M had one of the stock bachelor's hobbies. He painted in water-colour. He painted only the wild orchids37 of England, in the meticulous38 but uninspired fashion of the naturalists39 of the nineteenth century. He was now at his painting-table up against the window, his broad back hunched40 over his drawing-board, with, in front of him, an extremely dim little flower in a tooth-glass full of water. When Bond came in and closed the door, M gave the flower one last piercingly inquisitive41 glance. He got to his feet with obvious reluctance42. But he gave Bond one of his rare smiles and said, 'Afternoon,
James.' (He had the sailor's meticulous observance of the exact midday.) 'Happy Christmas and all that. Take a chair.' M himself went behind his desk and sat down. He was about to come on duty. Bond automatically took his traditional place across the desk from his Chief.
M began to fill a pipe. 'What the devil's the name of that fat American detective who's always fiddling43 about with orchids, those obscene hybrids44 from Venezuela and so forth45? Then he comes sweating out of his orchid36 house, eats a gigantic meal of some foreign muck and solves the murder. What's he called?'
'Nero Wolfe, sir. They're written by a chap called Rex Stout46. I like them.'
'They're readable,' condescended47 M. 'But I was thinking of the orchid stuff in them. How in hell can a man like those disgusting flowers? Why, they're damned near animals, and their colours, all those pinks and mauves and the blotchy48 yellow tongues, are positively49 hideous50! Now that' - M waved at the meagre little bloom in the tooth-glass -'that's the real thing. That's an Autumn Lady's Tresses - spiranthes spiralis, not that I care particularly. Flowers in England as late as October and should be under the ground by now. But I got this forced-late specimen51 from a man I know - assistant to a chap called Summerhayes who's the orchid king at Kew. My friend's experimenting with cultures of a fungus52 which oddly enough is a parasite53 on a lot of orchids, but, at the same time, gets eaten by the orchid and acts as its staple54 diet. Mycorhiza it's called.' M gave another of his rare smiles. 'But you needn't write it down. Just wanted to take a leaf out of this fellow Nero Wolfe's book. However' - M brushed the topic aside - 'can't expect you to get excited about these things. Now then.' He settled back. 'What the devil have you been up to?' The grey eyes regarded Bond keenly. 'Looks as if you haven't been getting much sleep. Pretty gay these winter sport places, they tell me.'
Bond smiled. He reached into his inside pocket and took out the pinned sheets of paper. 'This one provided plenty of miscellaneous entertainment, sir. Perhaps you'd like to have a look at my report first. 'Fraid it's only a draft. There wasn't much time. But I can fill in anything that isn't clear.'
M reached across for the papers, adjusted his spectacles, and began reading.
Soft rain scratched at the windows. A big log fell in the grate. The silence was soft and comfortable. Bond looked round the walls at M's treasured collection of naval prints. Everywhere there were mountainous seas, crashing cannon55, bellying56 sails, tattered57 battle pennants58 - the fury of ancient engagements, the memories of ancient enemies, the French, the Dutch, the Spaniards, even the Americans. All gone, all friends now with one another. Not a sign of the enemies of today. Who was backing Blofeld, for instance, in the inscrutable conspiracy59 in which he was now certainly engaged? The Russians? The Chinese? Or was it an independent job, as Thunderball had been? And what was the conspiracy? What was the job for the protection of which six or seven of Blofeld's men had died within less than a week? Would M read anything into the evidence? Would the experts who were coming that afternoon? Bond lifted his left wrist. Remembered that he no longer had a watch. That he would certainly be allowed on expenses. He would get another one as soon as the shops opened after Boxing Day. Another Rolex? Probably. They were on the heavy side, but they worked. And at least you could see the time in the dark with those big phosphorus numerals. Somewhere in the hall, a clock struck the half-hour. 1.30. Twelve hours before, he must have just set up the trap that killed the three men in the Mercedes. Self-defence, but the hell of a way to celebrate Christmas!
M threw the papers down on his desk. His pipe had gone out and he now slowly lit it again. He tossed the spent match accurately60 over his shoulder into the fire. He put his hands fiat61 on the desk and said - and there was an unusual kindness in his voice - 'Well, you were pretty lucky to get out of that one, James. Didn't know you could ski.'
'I only just managed to stay upright, sir. Wouldn't like to try it again.'
'No. And I see you say you can't come to any conclusions about what Blofeld is up to?'
'That's right, sir. Haven't got a clue.'
'Well, nor have I. I just don't understand any part of it. Perhaps the professors'll help us out this afternoon. But you're obviously right that it's SPECTRE all over again. By the way, your tip about Pontresina was a good one. He was a Bulgar. Can't remember his name, but Interpol turned him up for us. Plastic explosives expert. Worked for KBG in Turkey. If it's true that the U2 that fellow Powers was piloting was brought down by delayed charges and not by rockets, it may be this man was implicated62. He was on the list of suspects. Then he turned free-lance. Went into business on his own. That's probably when SPECTRE picked him up. We were doubtful about your identification of Blofeld. The Pontresina lead helped a lot. You're absolutely sure of him, are you? He certainly seems to have done a good job on his face and stomach. Better set him up on the Identicast when you get back this evening. We'll have a look at him and get the views of the medical gentry63.'
'I think it must be him, sir. I was really getting the authentic64 smell of him on the last day - yesterday, that is. It seems a long time ago already.'
'You were lucky to run into this girl. Who is she? Some old flame of yours?' M's mouth turned down at the corners.
'More or less, sir. She came into my report on the first news we got that Blofeld was in Switzerland. Daughter of this man Draco, head of the union Corse. Her mother was an English governess.'
'Hm. Interesting breeding. Now then. Time for lunch. I told Hammond we weren't to be disturbed.' M got up and pressed the bell by the fire-place. "Fraid we've got to go through the turkey and plum pudding routine. Mrs Hammond's been brooding over her pots and pans for weeks. Damned sentimental65 rubbish.'
Hammond appeared at the door, and Bond followed M through and into the small dining-room beyond the hall whose walls glittered with M's other hobby, the evolution of the naval cutlass. They sat down. M said, with mock ferocity, to Hammond, 'All right, Chief Petty Officer Hammond. Do your worst.' And then, with real vehemence66, 'What in hell are those things doing here?' He pointed67 at the centre of the table.
'Crackers68, sir," said Hammond stolidly69. 'Mrs Hammond thought that seeing as you have company…'
'Throw them out. Give 'em to the schoolchildren. I'll go so far with Mrs Hammond, but I'm damned if I'm going to have my dining-room turned into a nursery.'
Hammond smiled. He said, 'Aye, aye, sir,' gathered up the shimmering70 crackers and departed.
Bond was aching for a drink. He got a small glass of very old Marsala and most of a bottle of very bad Algerian wine.
M treated his two glasses as if they had been Chateau71 Lafitte. 'Good old "Infuriator". Staple drink for the fleet in the Mediterranean72. Got real guts73 to it. I remember an old shipmate of mine, McLachlan, my Chief Gunnery Officer at the time, betting he could get down six bottles of the stuff. Damn fool. Measured his length on the wardroom floor after only three. Drink up, James! Drink up!'
At last the plum pudding arrived, flaming traditionally. Mrs Hammond had implanted several cheap silver gewgaws in it and M nearly broke a tooth on the miniature horseshoe. Bond got the bachelor's button. He thought of Tracy. It should have been the ring!
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1
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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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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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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brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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permeated
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| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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prudently
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| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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naturalists
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| n.博物学家( naturalist的名词复数 )；（文学艺术的）自然主义者 | |
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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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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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hybrids
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| n.杂交生成的生物体( hybrid的名词复数 )；杂交植物（或动物）；杂种；（不同事物的）混合物 | |
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45
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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47
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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48
blotchy
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| adj.有斑点的，有污渍的；斑污 | |
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49
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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50
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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51
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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52
fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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53
parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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54
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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55
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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56
bellying
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| 鼓出部；鼓鼓囊囊 | |
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57
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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58
pennants
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| n.校旗( pennant的名词复数 )；锦标旗；长三角旗；信号旗 | |
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59
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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60
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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61
fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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62
implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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63
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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64
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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65
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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67
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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68
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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69
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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70
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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71
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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73
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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