The first law for a secret agent is to get his geography right, his means of access and exit, and assure his communications with the outside world. James Bond was uncomfortably aware that for the past hour he had been driving into limbo8, and that his nearest contact was a girl in a brothel thirty miles away. The situation was not reassuring9.
Half a mile ahead, someone must have seen the approaching lights of the leading car and pressed switches, for there was a sudden blaze of brilliant yellow illumination through the trees and a final sweep of the drive revealed the hotel. With the theatrical10 lighting11 and the surrounding blackness to conceal12 any evidence of halted construction work, the place made a brave show. A vast pale-pink-and-white pillared portico13 gave the hotel an aristocratic frontage, and when Bond drew up behind the other car at the entrance, he could see through the tall Regency windows a vista14 of black-and-white marble flooring beneath blazing chandeliers. A bell captain and his Jamaican staff in red jackets and black trousers hurried down the steps, and after showing great deference16 to Scaramanga, took his suitcase and Bond's. Then the small cavalcade17 moved into the entrance hall, where Bond wrote Mark Hazard and the Kensington address of Transworld Consortium in the register.
Scaramanga had been talking to a man who appeared to be the manager, a young American with a neat face and a neat suit. He turned to Bond. "You're in Number twenty-four in the west wing. I'm close by in Number twenty. Order what you want from room service. See you about ten in the morning. The guys'll be coming in from Kingston around midday. Okay?" The cold eyes in the gaunt face didn't mind whether it was or not. Bond said it was. He followed one of the bellboys with his suitcase across the slippery marble floor and was led into a long white corridor with a close-fitted carpet in royal-blue Wilton. There was a smell of new paint and Jamaican cedar18. The numbered doors and the light fittings were in good taste. Bond's room was almost at the end on the left. Number 20 was opposite. The bellhop unlocked Number 24 and held the door for Bond. Air-conditioned air gushed19 out. It was a pleasant modern double bedroom and bath in grey and white. When he was alone, Bond went to the air-conditioning control and turned it to zero. Then he drew back the curtains and wound down the two broad windows to let in real air. Outside, the sea whispered softly on an invisible beach and the moonlight splashed the black shadows of palms across trim lawns. To his left, where the yellow light of the entrance showed a corner of the gravel21 sweep, Bond heard his car being started up and driven away, presumably to a parking lot, which would, he guessed, be at the rear so as not to spoil the impact of the facade22. He turned back into his room and inspected it minutely. The only objects of suspicion were a large picture on the wall above the two beds and the telephone. The picture was a Jamaican market scene painted locally. Bond lifted it off its nail, but the wall behind was innocent. He then took out a pocketknife, laid the telephone carefully, so as not to shift the receiver, upside down on a bed, and very quietly and carefully unscrewed the bottom plate. He smiled his satisfaction. Behind the plate was a small microphone joined by leads to the main cable inside the cradle. He screwed back the plate with the same care and put the telephone quietly back on the night table. He knew the gadget23. It would be transistorized and of sufficient power to pick up a conversation in normal tones anywhere in the room. It crossed his mind to say very devout24 prayers out loud before he went to bed. That would be a fitting prologue25 for the central recording26 device!
James Bond unpacked27 his few belongings28 and called room service. A Jamaican voice answered. Bond ordered a bottle of Walker's deluxe29 bourbon, three glasses, ice, and, for nine o'clock, eggs Benedict. The voice said, "Sure, sir." Bond then took off his clothes, put his gun and holster under a pillow, rang for the valet, and had his suit taken away to be pressed. By the time he had taken a hot shower followed by an ice-cold one and pulled on a fresh pair of sea island cotton underpants, the bourbon had arrived.
The best drink in the day is just before the first one (the Red Stripe didn't count). James Bond put ice in the glass and three fingers of the bourbon and swilled30 it round the glass to cool it and break it down with the ice. He pulled a chair up to the window, put a low table beside it, took Profiles in Courage by Jack15 Kennedy out of his suitcase, happened to open it at Edmund G. Ross ("I looked down into my open grave"), then went and sat down, letting the scented31 air, a compound of sea and trees, breathe over his body, naked save for the underpants. He drank the bourbon down in two long draughts32 and felt its friendly bite at the back of his throat and in his stomach. He filled up his glass again, this time with more ice to make it a weaker drink, and sat back and thought about Scaramanga.
What was the man doing now? Talking long distance with Havana or the States? Organizing things for tomorrow? It would be interesting to see these fat, frightened stockholders! If Bond knew anything, they would be a choice bunch of hoods33, the type that had owned the Havana hotels and casinos in the old Batista days, the men that held the stock in Las Vegas, that looked after the action in Miami. And whose money was Scaramanga representing? There was so much hot money drifting around the Caribbean that it might be any of the syndicates, any of the banana dictators from the islands or the mainland. And the man himself? It had been damned fine shooting that had killed the two birds swerving34 through the window of 3-1/2. How in hell was Bond going to take him? On an impulse, Bond went over to his bed and took the Walther from under the pillow. He slipped out the magazine and pumped the single round onto the counterpane. He tested the spring of the magazine and of the breech and drew a quick bead35 on various objects round the room. He found he was aiming an inch or so high. But that would be be-cause the gun was lighter36 without its loaded magazine. He snapped the magazine back and tried again. Yes, that was better. He pumped a round into the breech, put up the safety, and replaced the gun under the pillow. Then he went back to his drink and picked up the book and forgot his worries in the high endeavours of great men.
The eggs came and were good. The mousseline sauce might have been mixed at Maxim's. Bond had the tray removed, poured himself a last drink and prepared for bed. Scaramanga would certainly have a master key. Tomorrow, Bond would whittle37 himself a wedge to jam the door. For tonight, he upended his suitcase, just inside the door and balanced the three glasses on top of it. It was a simple booby trap, but it would give him all the warning he needed. Then he took off his shorts and got into bed and slept.
A nightmare woke him, sweating, around two in the morning. He had been defending a fort. There were other defenders38 with him, but they seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, ineffectively, and when Bond shouted to rally them, they seemed not to hear him. Out of the plain, Scaramanga sat ass-backwards on the cafe chair beside a huge golden cannon39. Every now and then, he put his long cigar to the touchhole, and there came a tremendous flash of soundless flame. A black cannonball, as big as a football, lobbed up high in the air and crashed down into the fort with a shattering noise of breaking timber. Bond was armed with nothing but a longbow, but even this he could not fire because every time he tried to fit the notch40 of the arrow into the gut41 the arrow slipped out of his fingers to the ground. He cursed his clumsiness. Any moment now and a huge cannonball would land on the small open space where he was standing42! Out on the plain, Scaramanga reached his cigar to the touchole. The black ball soared up. It was coming straight for Bond! It landed just in front of him and came rolling very slowly towards him, getting bigger and bigger, smoke and sparks coming from its shortening fuse. Bond threw up an arm to protect himself. Painfully, the arm crashed into the side of the night table, and Bond woke up.
Bond got out of bed, gave himself a cold shower, and drank a glass of water. By the time he was back in bed, he had forgotten the nightmare and he went quickly to sleep and slept dreamlessly until 7:30 in the morning. He put on swimming trunks, removed the barricade43 from in front of the door, and went out into the passage. To his left, a door into the garden was open and sun streamed in. He went out and was walking over the dewy grass towards the beach when he heard a curious thumping45 noise from among the palms to his right. He walked over. It was Scaramanga, in trunks, attended by a good-looking young Negro holding a flame-coloured terrycloth robe, doing exercises on a trampoline. Scaramanga's body gleamed with sweat in the sunshine as he hurled46 himself high in the air from the stretched canvas and bounded back, sometimes from his knees or his buttocks and sometimes even from his head. It was an impressive exercise in gymnastics. The prominent third nipple over the heart made an obvious target! Bond walked thoughtfully down to the beautiful crescent of white sand fringed with gently clashing palm trees. He dived in, and because of the other man's example, swam twice as far as he had intended.
James Bond had a quick and small breakfast in his room, dressed, reluctantly because of the heat, in his dark blue suit, armed himself, and went for a walk round the property. He quickly got the picture. The night, and the lighted facade, had covered up a half-project. The east wing on the other side of the lobby was still lath and plaster. The body of the hotel-the restaurant, nightclub, and living rooms that were the tail of the T-shaped structure- were mockups, stages for a dress rehearsal47, hastily assembled with the essential props48, carpets, light fixtures49, and a scattering50 of furniture, but stinking51 of fresh paint and wood shavings. Perhaps fifty men and women were at work, tacking52 up curtains, vacuuming carpets, fixing the electricity, but no one was employed on the essentials-the big cement mixers, the drills, the ironwork that lay about behind the hotel like the abandoned toys of a giant. At a guess, the place would need another year and another few million pounds to become what the plans had said it was to be. Bond saw Scaramanga's problem. Someone was going to complain about this. Others would want to get out. But then again, others would want to buy in, but cheaply, and use it as a tax loss to set against more profitable enterprises elsewhere. Better to have a capital asset, with the big tax concessions53 that Jamaica gave, than pay the money to Uncle Sam, Uncle Fidel, Uncle Leoni of Venezuela. So Scaramanga's job would be to blind his guests with pleasure, send them back half drunk to their syndicates. Would it work? Bond knew such people and he doubted it. They might go to bed drunk with a pretty coloured girl but they would awake sober. Or else they wouldn't have their jobs, they wouldn't be coming here with their discreet54 briefcases55.
He walked farther back on the property. He wanted to locate his car. He found it on a deserted57 lot behind the west wing. The sun would get at it where it was, so he drove it forward and into the shade of a giant ficus tree. He checked the petrol and pocketed the ignition key. There were not too many small precautions he could take.
On the parking lot the smell of the swamps was very strong. While it was still comparatively cool, he decided58 to walk farther. He soon came to the end of the young shrubs59 and guinea grass the landscaper had laid on. Behind these was desolation-a great area of sluggish60 streams and swampland from which the hotel land had been recovered. Egrets, shrikes, and Louisiana herons rose and settled lazily, and there were strange insect noises and the call of frogs and gekkos. On what would probably be the border of the property, a biggish stream meandered61 towards the sea, its muddy banks pitted with the holes of land crabs62 and water rats. As Bond approacned, there was a heavy splash and a man-sized alligator63 left the bank and showed its snout before submerging. Bond smiled to himself. No doubt, if the hotel got off the ground, all this area would be turned into an asset. There would be native boatmen, suitably attired64 as Arawak Indians, a landing stage, and comfortable boats with fringed shades from which the guests could view the "tropical jungle" for an extra ten dollars on the bill.
Bond glanced at his watch. He strolled back. To the left, not yet screened by the young oleanders and crotons that had been planted for this eventual65 purpose, were the kitchens and laundry and staff quarters, the usual back quarters of a luxury hotel; and music, the heartbeat thump44 of Jamaican calypso, came from their direction-presumably the Kingston combo rehearsing. Bond walked round and under the portico into the main lobby. Scaramanga was at the desk talking to the manager. When he heard Bond's footsteps on the marble, he turned and looked, and gave Bond a curt20 nod. He was dressed as on the previous day, and the high white cravat66 suited the elegance67 of the hall. He said "Okay, then" to the manager and, to Bond, "Let's go take a look at the conference room."
Bond followed him through the restaurant door and then through another door to the right that opened into a lobby, one of whose walls was taken up with the glasses and plates of a buffet68. Beyond this was another door. Scaramanga led the way through into what would one day perhaps be a card room or writing room. Now there was nothing but a round table in the centre of a wine-red carpet and seven white leatherette armchairs with scratchpads and pencils in front of them. The chair facing the door, presumably Scaramanga's, had a white telephone in front of it.
Bond went round the room and examined the windows and the curtains and glanced at the wall brackets of the lighting. He said, "The brackets could be bugged69. And of course there's the telephone. Like me to go over it?"
Scaramanga looked at Bond stonily70. He said, "No need to. It's bugged all right. By me. Got to have a record of what's said."
Bond said, "All right, then. Where do you want me to be?"
"Outside the door. Sitting reading a magazine or something. There'll be the general meeting this afternoon around four. Tomorrow there'll maybe be one or two smaller meetings, maybe just me and one of the guys. I don't want any of these meetings to be disturbed. Got it?" "Seems simple enough. Now, isn't it about time you told me the names of these men and more or less who they represent and which ones, if any, you're expecting trouble from?"
Scaramanga said, "Take a chair and a paper and pencil." He strolled up and down the room. "First there's Mr. Hendriks. Dutchman. Represents the European money, mostly Swiss. You needn't bother with him. He's not the arguing type. Then there's Sam Binion from Detroit." "The Purple Gang?"
Scaramanga stopped in his stride and looked hard at Bond. "These are all respectable guys, mister whoosis." "Hazard is the name."
"All right. Hazard, then. But respectable, you understand. Don't go getting the notion that this is another Ap-palachia. These are all solid businessmen. Get me? This Sam Binion, for instance. He's in real estate. He and his friends are worth maybe twenty million bucks71. See what I mean? Then there's Leroy Gengerella. Miami. Owns Gengerella Enterprises. Big shots in the entertainment world. He may cut up rough. Guys in that line of business like quick profits and a quick turnover72. And Ruby73 Rotkopf, the hotel man from Vegas. He'll ask the difficult questions because he'll already know most of the answers from experience. Hal Garfinkel from Chicago. He's in labour relations, like me. Represents a lot of Teamster union funds. He shouldn't be any trouble. Those unions have got so much money they don't know where to put it. That makes five. Last comes Louis Paradise from Phoenix74, Arizona. Owns Paradise Slots, the biggest people in the one-armed bandit business. Got casino interests too. I can't figure which way he'll bet. That's the lot."
"And who do you represent, Mr. Scaramanga?"
"Caribbean money."
"Cuban?"
"I said Caribbean. Cuba's in the Caribbean, isn't it?"
"Castro or Batista?"
The frown was back. Scaramanga's right hand balled into a fist. "I told you not to rile me, mister. So don't go prying75 into my affairs or you'll get hurt. And that's for sure." As if he could hardly control himself longer, the big man turned on his heel and strode brusquely out of the room.
James Bond smiled. He turned back to the list in front of him. A strong reek76 of high gangsterdom rose from the paper. But the name he was most interested in was Mr. Hendriks who represented "European money." If that was his real name, and he was a Dutchman, so, James Bond reflected, was he.
He tore off three sheets of paper to efface77 the impression of his pencil and walked out and along into the lobby. A bulky man was approaching the desk from the entrance. He was sweating mightily78 in his unseasonable wooden-looking suit. He might have been anybody-an Antwerp diamond merchant, a German dentist, a Swiss bank manager. The pale, square-jowled face was totally anonymous79. He put a heavy briefcase56 on the desk and said in a thick Central European accent, "I am Mr. Hendriks. I think it is that you have a room for me, isn't it?"
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1
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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3
scrolling
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| n.卷[滚]动法，上下换行v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的现在分词 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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4
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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mangrove
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| n.(植物)红树，红树林 | |
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6
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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7
scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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10
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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11
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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13
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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14
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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15
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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16
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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gadget
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| n.小巧的机械，精巧的装置，小玩意儿 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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prologue
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| n.开场白，序言；开端，序幕 | |
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26
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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27
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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deluxe
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| adj.华美的，豪华的，高级的 | |
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swilled
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| v.冲洗( swill的过去式和过去分词 )；猛喝；大口喝；（使）液体流动 | |
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31
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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36
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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whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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40
notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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41
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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42
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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43
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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44
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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45
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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46
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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47
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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48
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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49
fixtures
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| （房屋等的）固定装置( fixture的名词复数 )； 如（浴盆、抽水马桶）； 固定在某位置的人或物； （定期定点举行的）体育活动 | |
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50
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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51
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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52
tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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53
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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54
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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briefcases
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| n.公文[事]包( briefcase的名词复数 ) | |
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briefcase
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| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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bugged
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| vt.在…装窃听器（bug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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turnover
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| n.人员流动率，人事变动率；营业额，成交量 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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