Bond pointed3. The helicopter wasn't liking4 the altitude. At 10,000 feet its rotors were finding it hard to get a grip of the thin air and the pilot was struggling to keep it at maximum revs5. As he turned to port, in towards the face of the mountain, his radio crackled sharply and a harsh voice said, in German and then in French, 'Landing forbidden. This is private property. I repeat, landing forbidden!' The pilot reached up to the cockpit roof and switched off the radio. He had studied his landing-point on the plateau on the mock-up. He got to it, hovered6, and gently came down. The helicopter bounced once on its rubber floats and settled. Already there was a group of men waiting for them. Eight men. Bond recognized some of them. They all had their hands in their pockets or in their wind-jackets. The engine coughed to a stop and the rotors swung round briefly7 in neutral and halted. Bond heard the bang of the door being opened behind him and the rattle8 of the men piling down the ladder. The two groups lined up facing each other. Marc-Ange said, with authority, 'This is the Federal Police Alpine9 Patrol. There was trouble up here on Christmas Eve. We have come to investigate.'
Fritz, the 'head waiter', said angrily. 'The local police have already been here. They have made their report. All is in order. Please leave at once. What is the Federal Police Alpine Patrol? I have never heard of it.'
The pilot nudged Bond and pointed over to the left, to the building that housed the Count and the laboratories. A man, clumsy in bob-sleigh helmet and padding, was running down the path towards the cable station. He would be out of sight of the men on the ground. Bond said 'Blast!' and scrambled10 out of his seat and into the cabin. He leaned out of the door and shouted, 'The Big One. He's getting away!'
As Bond jumped, one of the SPECTRE men shouted, 'Der Englander. Der Spion!' And then, as Bond started running away to the right, weaving and dodging11, all hell broke loose. There came the boom of heavy automatics as the SPECTRE team got off their first rounds, and bullets, tracer, Sashed past Bond with the noise of humming-birds' wings. Then came the answering roar of the Schmeissers and Bond was left alone.
Now he was round the corner of the club, and, a hundred yards down the slope, the man in the crash helmet had torn open the door of the 'garage' for the bob-sleighs in the foundations of the cable station. He emerged carrying a one-man skeleton bob. Holding it in front of him as a shield, he fired a burst from a heavy automatic at Bond and again the humming-birds whirred past. Bond knelt and, steadying his gun with two hands, fired three rounds with his Walther, but the man was now running the few yards to the glistening12 ice-mouth of the Gloria Express bob-run. Bond got a glimpse of the profile under the moon. Yes, it was Blofeld all right! Even as Bond ran on down the slope, the man had flung himself down on his skeleton and had disappeared as if swallowed up by the glistening landscape. Bond got to the 'garage'. Damn, they were all six-men or two-men models! No, there was one skeleton at the back! Bond hauled it out. No time to see if the runners were straight, the steering-arm shifting easily! He ran to the start and hurled13 himself under the protecting chain in a mad forward dive that landed him half on and half off his skeleton. He straightened himself and shifted his body well forward on the flimsy little aluminium14 platform and gripped the steering-arm, keeping his elbows well in to his sides. He was already going like hell down the dark-blue gutter15! He tried braking with the toes of both his boots. Damned little difference! What came first on the blasted run? There was this lateral16 straight across the shoulder of the mountain, then a big banked curve. He was into it now! Bond kept his right shoulder down and inched right on the steering-arm. Even so, he went perilously17 near the top edge of the bank before he dived down into the dark gully again. What came next on that metal map? Why in hell hadn't he studied it more carefully? He got his answer! It looked tike a straight, but the shadows camouflaged18 a sharp dip. Bond left the ground and flew. The crash of his landing almost knocked the wind out of his body. He frantically19 dug his toes into the ice, managed to get down from perhaps fifty m.p.h. to forty. Well, well! So that was 'Dead Man's Leap.' What in hell was the next bit of murder? 'Whizz-Bang Straight'! And by God it was! - 200 yards when he must have been doing around seventy. He remembered that on the finishing straight of the Cresta the stars got up to over eighty. No doubt something like that was still to come! But now, flashing towards him, in silver and black, came an S-bend - 'Battling S'. The toes of Bond's boots slid maddeningly on the black ice. Under his nose he could see the parallel tracks of Blofeld's runners and, between them, the grooves20 of his toe-spikes21. The old fox! As soon as he heard the helicopter, he must have got himself fixed22 for his only escape route. But at this speed Bond must surely be catching23 up with him! For God's sake look out! Here comes the S! There was nothing he could do about it. He swayed his body as best he could, felt the searing crash of one elbow against one wall, was hurled across into the opposite one, and was then spewed out into the straight again. God Almighty24, but it hurt! He could feel the cold wind on both elbows. The cloth had gone! Then so had the skin! Bond clenched25 his teeth. And he was only half-way down, if that! But then, ahead, flashing through a patch of moonlight, was the other body, Blofeld! Bond took a chance, heaved himself up on one hand and reached down for his gun. The wind tried to tear him off the bob, but he had the gun. He opened his mouth wide and gripped the gun between his teeth, flexed26 the ice-caked leather on his right hand. Then he got the gun in his right hand, lifted his toes off the ice, and went like hell. But now the man had disappeared into the shadows and a giant bank reared up ahead. This would be 'Hell's Delight'! Oh well, if he could make this, there would be another straight and he could begin shooting. Bond dug his toes in, got a glimpse of an ice-wall ahead and to the left, and in a flash was climbing it, straight up! God, in a split second he would be over the edge! Bond hammered in his right boot and lurched his body to the right, tearing at the steering-arm. Reluctantly the sliver27 of aluminium answered and Bond, inches from the top of the wall, found himself swooping28 down into blackness and then out again on to a moonlit straight. Only fifty yards ahead was the flying figure, with chips of ice fountaining up from the braking spikes on his boots. Bond held his breath and got off two shots. He thought they were good ones, but now the mad had gone into shadow again. But Bond was gaining, gaining. His lips drew back from his teeth in an almost animal snarl29. You bastard30! You're a dead duck! You can't stop or fire back. I'm coming after you like lightning 1 Soon I shall only be ten, five yards behind you. Then you'll have had it!
But the shadows concealed31 another hazard, long transverse waves in the ice - 'The Bone-shaker'! Bond crashed from one to the next, felt his boots being almost torn from his feet as he tried to brake, nearly lost his gun, felt his stomach flatten32 against his spine33 with each shattering impact, felt his rib34 cage almost cracking. But then it was over and Bond sucked in air through his clenched teeth. Now for a length of straight! But what was that ahead on the track? It was something black, something the size of a big lemon that was bouncing along gaily35 like a child's rubber ball. Had Blofeld, now only about thirty yards ahead, dropped something, a bit of his equipment? Had he? The realization36 came to Bond in a surge of terror that almost made him vomit37. He ground his toes into the ice. No effect! He was gaming on the gaily bouncing thing. Flashing down on it. On the grenade!
Bond, sick in the stomach, lifted his toes and let himself go. What setting had Blofeld put on it? How long had he held it with the pin out? The only hope was to pray to God and race it!
The next thing Bond knew was that the whole track had blown up in his face and that he and his skeleton bob were flying through the air. He landed in soft snow, with the skeleton on top of him and passed out like a light.
Later, Bond was to estimate that he lay there only a matter of minutes. It was a tremendous explosion from the mountain above him that brought him staggering to his feet, up to his belly38 in snow. He looked vaguely39 up to where it had come from. It must have been the club building going up, because now there was the glare of flames and a tower of smoke that rose towards the moon. There came the echoing crack of another explosion and Blofeld's block disintegrated40, great chunks41 of it crashing down the mountain side, turning themselves into giant snowballs that bounded off down towards the tree-line. By God, they'll start another avalanche42! thought Bond vaguely. Then he realized that it didn't matter this time, he was away to the right, almost underneath43 the cable railway. And now the station went up and Bond stared fascinated as the great wires, their tension released, came hissing44 and snaking down the mountain towards him. There was nothing he could do about it but stand and watch. If they cut him down, they cut him down. But they lashed45 past in the snow, wrapped themselves briefly round the tall pylon46 above the tree-line, tore it away in a metallic47 crackling, and disappeared over the edge of the shoulder.
Bond laughed weakly with pleasure and began feeling himself for damage. His torn elbows he already knew about, but his forehead hurt like hell. He felt it gingerly, then scooped48 up a handful of snow and held it against the wound. The blood showed black in the moonlight. He ached all over, but there didn't seem to be anything broken. He bent49 dazedly50 to the twisted remains51 of the skeleton. The steering-arm had gone, had probably saved his head, and both runners were bent. There were a lot of rattles52 from the rivets53, but perhaps the damned thing would run. It had bloody well got to! There was no other way for Bond to get down the mountain! His gun? Gone to hell, of course. Wearily Bond heaved himself over the wall of the track and slid carefully down, clutching the remains of his skeleton. As soon as he got to the bottom of the gutter, everything began to slip downwards54, but he managed to haul himself on to the bob and get shakily going. In fact, the bent runners were a blessing55 and the bob scraped slowly down, leaving great furrows56 in the ice. There were more turns, more hazards, but, at a bare ten miles an hour, they were child's play and soon Bond was through the tree-line and into 'Paradise Alley57', the finishing straight, where he slowly came to a halt. He left the skeleton where it stopped and scrambled over the low ice-wall. Here the snow was beaten hard by spectators' feet and he stumbled slowly along, nursing his aches, and occasionally dabbing58 at his head with handfuls of snow. What would he find at the bottom, by the cable station? If it was Blofeld, Bond would be a dead duck! But there were no lights on in the station into which the cables now trailed limply along the ground. By God, that had been an expensive bang! But what of Marc-Ange and his merry men, and the helicopter?
As if to answer him, he heard the clatter59 of its engine high up in the mountains and in a moment the ungainly black shape crossed the moon and disappeared down the valley. Bond smiled to himself. They were going to have a tough time arguing themselves across Swiss air space this time! But Marc-Ange had thought out an alternative route over Germany. That would also not be fun. They would have to argue the toss with NATO? Well, if a Marseillais couldn't blarney his way across two hundred miles, nobody could!
And now, up the road from Samaden that Bond knew so well, came the iron hee-haw warning of the local fire-engine. The blinking red light on its cabin roof was perhaps a mile away. Bond, carefully approaching the corner of the darkened cable station, prepared his story. He crept up to the wall of the building and looked round. Nobody! No trace except fresh tyre-marks outside the entrance door. Blofeld must have telephoned his man down here before he started and used him and his car for the getaway. Which way had he gone? Bond walked out on to the road. The tracks turned left. Blofeld would be at the Bernina Pass or over it by now, on his way down into Italy and away. It might still have been possible to have him held at the frontier by alerting the fire-brigade, whose lights now held Bond in their beam. No! That would be idiotic60. How had Bond got this knowledge unless he himself had been up at Piz Gloria that night? No, he must just play the part of the stupidest tourist in the Engadine!
The shining red vehicle pulled up in front of the cable station and the warning klaxons ran down with an iron groan61. Men jumped to the ground. Some went into the station while others stood gazing up at the Piz Gloria, where a dull red glow still showed. A man in a peaked cap, presumably the captain of the team, came up to Bond and saluted62. He fired off a torrent63 of Schwyzerdьtch. Bond shook his head. The man tried French. Bond again showed incomprehension. Another man with fragmentary English was called over. 'What is it that is happening?' he asked.
Bond shook his head dazedly. 'I don't know. I was walking down from Pontresina to Samaden. I came on a day excursion from Zurich and missed my bus. I was going to take a train from Samaden. Then I saw these explosions up the mountain' - he waved vaguely - 'and I walked up there past the station to see better, and the next thing I knew was a bang on the head and being dragged along the path.1 He indicated his bleeding head and the raw elbows that protruded64 from his torn sleeves. 'It must have been the broken cable. It must have hit me and dragged me with it. Have you got a Red Cross outfit65 with you?'
'Yes, yes.' The man called over to the group, and one of his colleagues wearing a Red Cross brassard on his arm fetched his black box from the vehicle and came over. He clucked his tongue over Bond's injuries and, while his interrogator66 told Bond's story to the Captain, bade Bond follow him into the toflette in the station. There, by the light of a torch, he washed Bond's wounds, applied67 quantities of iodine68 that stung like hell, and then strapped69 wide strips of Elastoplast over the damage. Bond looked at his face in the mirror. He laughed. Hell of a bridegroom he was going to make! The Red Cross man cluck-clucked in sympathy, produced a flask70 of. brandy out of his box, and offered it to Bond. Bond gratefully took a long swig. The interpreter came in. 'There is nothing we can do here. It will need a helicopter from the mountain rescue team. We must go back to Samaden and report. You wish to come?'
'I certainly do,' said Bond enthusiastically, and, with many politenesses and no question of why he should attempt the icy walk to Samaden in the dark instead of taking a taxi, he was borne comfortably to Samaden and dropped off, with the warmest gestures of goodwill71 and sympathy, at the railway station.
* * *
By a raiding Personenzug to Coke and then by express to Zurich, Bond got to the door of the flat of Head of Station Z in the Bahnhofstrasse at two in the morning. He had had some sleep in the train but he was almost out on his feet, and his whole body felt as if it had been beaten with wooden truncheons. He leaned wearily against the bell ticketed 'Muir' until a tousled man in pyjamas72 came and opened the door and held it on the chain. 'Um Gottes Willen! Was ist denn los?' he inquired angrily. The English accent came through. Bond said, 'It's me that's "los". It's 007 again, I'm afraid.'
'Good God, man, come in, come in!' Muir opened the door and looked quickly up and down the empty street. 'Anyone after you?'
'Shouldn't think so,' said Bond thickly, coming gratefully into the warmth of the entrance hall. Head of Z closed the door and locked it. He turned and looked at Bond. 'Christ, old boy, what in hell's been happening to you? You look as if you'd been through a mangle73. Here, come in and have a drink.' He led the way into a comfortable sitting-room74. He gestured at the sideboard. 'Help yourself. I'll just tell Phyllis not to worry - unless you'd like her to have a look at the damage. She's quite a hand at that sort of thing.'
'No, it's all right, thanks. A drink'll fix me. Nice and warm in here. I never want to see a patch of snow again as long as I live.'
Muir went out and Bond heard a quick confabulation across the passage. Muir came back. 'Phyllis is fixing the spare room. She'll put some fresh dressings75 and stuff out in the bathroom. Now then' - he poured himself a thin whisky and soda76 to keep Bond company and sat down opposite him -'tell me what you can.'
Bond said, 'I'm terribly sorry, but I can't tell you much. The same business as the other day. Next chapter. I promise you'd do better to know nothing about it. I wouldn't have come here only I've got to get a signal off to M, personal, triple X cipher77 to be deciphered by recipient78 only. Would you be a good chap and put it on the printer?'
'Of course.' Muir looked at his watch. 'Two-thirty am. Hell of a time to wake the old man up. But that's your business. Here, come into the cockpit, so to speak.' He walked across to the book-lined wall, took out a book and fiddled79. There was a click and a small door swung open. 'Mind your head,' said Muir. 'Old disused lavatory80. Just the right size. Gets a bit stuffy81 when there's a lot of traffic coming or going, but that can't be helped. We can afford to leave the door open.' He bent down to a safe on the floor, worked the combination, and brought out what looked like a portable typewriter. He set it on the shelf next to the bulky teleprinter, sat down, and clacked off the prefix82 and routing instructions, winding83 a small handle at the side of the machine at the end of each word. 'OK. Fire away!'
Bond leaned up against the wall. He had toyed with various formulas on his journey down to Samaden. It had to be something that would get through accurately84 to M and yet keep Muir in the dark, keep his hands clean. Bond said, 'All right. Make it this, would you? REDOUBT PROPERLY
FIXED STOP DETAILS LACKING AS EYE WENT SOLO AFTER THE OWNER WHO GREATLY REGRET GOT AWAY AND PROBABLY ITALICIZED BY NOW STOP FORWARDING FULL REPORT FROM STATION M THEN GRATEFULLY ACCEPTING TEN DAYS LEAVE SIGNED 007.'
Muir repeated the signal and then began putting it, in the five-figure groups that had come off the Triple X machine, on to the teleprinter.
Bond watched the message go, the end of another chapter of his duties, as Marc-Ange had put it, 'On Her Majesty85's Secret Service'. What would Her Majesty think of this string of crimes committed in her name? God, it was stuffy in the little room! Bond felt the cold sweat break out on his forehead. He put his hand up to his face, muttered something indistinctly about 'that bloody mountain' and gracefully86 crumpled87 to the floor.
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1
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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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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revs
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| abbr.revolutions （复数）旋转，回转，转数n.发动机的旋转( rev的名词复数 )v.（使）加速( rev的第三人称单数 )；（数量、活动等）激增；（使发动机）快速旋转；（使）活跃起来 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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12
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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13
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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aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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lateral
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| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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camouflaged
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| v.隐蔽( camouflage的过去式和过去分词 )；掩盖；伪装，掩饰 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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21
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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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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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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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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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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sliver
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| n.裂片，细片，梳毛；v.纵切，切成长片，剖开 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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40
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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41
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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42
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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43
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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44
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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45
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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46
pylon
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| n.高压电线架，桥塔 | |
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47
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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48
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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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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dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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rivets
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| 铆钉( rivet的名词复数 ) | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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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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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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interrogator
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| n.讯问者；审问者；质问者；询问器 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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iodine
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| n.碘，碘酒 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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mangle
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| vt.乱砍，撕裂，破坏，毁损，损坏，轧布 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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dressings
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| n.敷料剂；穿衣( dressing的名词复数 )；穿戴；（拌制色拉的）调料；（保护伤口的）敷料 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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prefix
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| n.前缀；vt.加…作为前缀；置于前面 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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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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