?Damned little, practically speaking nothing. Nobody's ever heard of these SPECTRE people. We know there's some kind of independent unit working in Europe-we've bought some stuff from them, so have the Americans, and Mathis admits now that Goltz, that French heavy-water scientist who went over last year, was assassinated1 by them, for big money, as a result of an offer he got out of the blue. No names were mentioned. It was all done on the radio, the same 16 megacycles that's mentioned in the letter. To the Deuxième Communications section. Mathis accepted on the off-chance. They did a neat job. Mathis paid up-a suitcase full of money left at a Michelin road sign on N1. But no one can tie them in with these SPECTRE people. When we and the Americans dealt, there were endless cutouts, really professional ones, and anyway we were more interested in the end product than the people involved. We both paid a lot of money, but it was worth it. If it's the same group working this, they're a serious outfit2 and I've told the P.M. so. But that's not the point. The plane is missing and the two bombs, just as the letter says. All details exactly correct. The Vindicator3 was on a NATO training flight south of Ireland and out into the Atlantic.? M reached for a bulky folder4 and turned over some pages. He found what he wanted. ?Yes, it was to be a six-hour flight leaving Boscombe Down at eight p.m. and due back at two a.m. There was an R.A.F. crew of five and a NATO observer, an Italian, man called Petacchi, Giuseppi Petacchi, squadron leader in the Italian Air Force, seconded to NATO. Fine flyer, apparently5, but they're checking on his background now. He was sent over here on a normal tour of duty. The top pilots from NATO have been coming over for months to get used to the Vindicator and the bomb-release routines. This plane's apparently going to be used for the NATO long-range striking force. Anyway?-M turned over a page-?the plane was watched on the screen as usual and all went well until it was west of Ireland at about forty thousand feet. Then, contrary to the drill, it came down to around thirty thousand and got lost in the transatlantic air traffic. Bomber6 Command tried to get in touch, but the radio couldn't or wouldn't answer. The immediate7 reaction was that the Vindicator had hit one of the transatlantic planes and there was something of a panic. But none of the companies reported any trouble or even a sighting.? M looked across at Bond. ?And that was the end of it. The plane just vanished.?
Bond said, ?Did the American DEW line pick it up-their Defense8 Early Warning system??
?There's a query9 on that. The only grain of evidence we've got. Ap? parently about five hundred miles east of Boston there was some evidence that a plane had peeled off the inward route to Idlewild and turned south. But that's another big traffic lane-for the northern traffic from Montreal and Gander down to Bermuda and the Bahamas and South America. So these DEW operators just put it down as a B.O.A.C. or Trans-Canada plane.? ?It certainly sounds as if they've got the whole thing worked out pretty well, hiding in these traffic lanes. Could the plane have turned northwards in the middle of the Atlantic and made for Russia??
?Yes, or southwards. There's a big block of space about five hundred miles out from both shores that's out of radar10 range. Better still, it could have turned on its tracks and come back in to Europe on any of two or three air lanes. In fact it could be almost anywhere in the world by now. That's the point.?
?But it's a huge plane. It must need special runways and so on. It must have come down somewhere. You can't hide a plane of that size.?
?Just so. All these things are obvious. By midnight last night the R.A.F. had checked with every single airport, every one in the world that could have taken it. Negative. But the C.A.S. says of course it could be crash-landed in the Sahara, for instance, or on some other desert, or in the sea, in shallow water.?
?Wouldn't that explode the bombs??
?No. They're absolutely safe until they're armed. Apparently even a direct drop, like that one from the B-47 over North Carolina in 1958, would only explode the T.N.T. trigger to the thing. Not the plutonium.?
?How are these SPECTRE people going to explode them, then??
M spread his hands. ?They explained all this at the War Cabinet meeting. I don't understand it all, but apparently an atomic bomb looks just like any other bomb. The way it works is that the nose is full of ordinary T.N.T. with the plutonium in the tail. Between the two there's a hole into which you screw some sort of a detonator, a kind of plug. When the bomb hits, the T.N.T. ignites the detonator and the detonator sets off the plutonium.?
?So these people would have to drop the bomb to set it off?? Apparently not. They would need a man with good physics knowledge who understood the thing, but then all he'd have to do would be to unscrew the nose cone11 on the bomb-the ordinary detonator that sets off the T.N.T.-and fix on some kind of time fuse that would ignite the T.N.T. without it being dropped. That would set the thing off. And it's not a very bulky affair. You could get the whole thing into something only about twice the size of a big golf bag. Very heavy, of course. But you could put it into the back of a big car, for instance, and just run the car into a town and leave it parked with the time fuse switched on. Give yourself a couple of hours' start to get out of range-at least a hundred miles away-and that would be that.?
Bond reached in his pocket for another cigarette. It couldn't be, yet it was so. Just what his Service and all the other intelligence services in the world had been expecting to happen. The anonymous12 little man in the raincoat with a heavy suitcase-or golf bag, if you like. The left luggage office, the parked car, the clump13 of bushes in a park in the center of a big town. And there was no answer to it. In a few years' time, if the experts were right, there would be even less answer to it. Every tin-pot little nation would be making atomic bombs in their backyards, so to speak. Apparently there was no secret now about the things. It had only been the prototypes that had been difficult-like the first gunpowder14 weapons for instance, or machine guns or tanks. Today these were everybody's bows and arrows. Tomorrow, or the day after, the bows and arrows would be atomic bombs. And this was the first blackmail15 case. Unless SPECTRE was stopped, the word would get round and soon every criminal scientist with a chemical set and some scrap16 iron would be doing it. If they couldn't be stopped in time there would be nothing for it but to pay up. Bond said so.
?That's about it,? commented M. ?From every point of view, including politics, not that they matter all that much. But neither the P.M. nor the President would last five minutes if anything went wrong. But whether we pay or don't pay, the consequences will be endless-and all bad. That's why absolutely everything has got to be done to find these people and the plane and stop the thing in time. The P.M. and the President are entirely17 agreed. Every intelligence man all over the world who's on our side is being put on to this operation-Operation Thunderball they're calling it. Planes, ships, submarines-and of course money's no object. We can have everything, whenever we want it. The Cabinet have already set up a special staff and a war room. Every scrap of information will be fed into it. The Americans have done the same. Some kind of a leak can't be helped. It's being put about that all the panic, and it is panic, is because of the loss of the Vindicator-bombs included, whatever fuss that may cause politically. Only the letter will be absolutely secret. All the usual detective work-fingerprints, Brighton, writing paper-these'll be looked after by Scotland Yard with the F.B.I., Interpol, and all the NATO intelligence organizations, helping18 where they can. Only a segment of the paper and the typing will be used-a few innocent words. This will all be quite separate from the search for the plane. That'll be handled as a top espionage19 matter. No one should be able to connect the two investigations20. M.I.5 will handle the background to all the crew members and the Italian observer. That will be a natural part of the search for the plane. As for the Service, we've teamed up with the C.I.A. to cover the world. Alien Dulles is putting every man he's got onto it and so am I. Just sent out a General Call. Now all we can do is sit back and wait.?
Bond lit another cigarette, his sinful third in one hour. He said, putting unconcern into his voice, ?Where do I come in, sir??
M looked vaguely21 at Bond, as if seeing him for the first time. Then he swiveled his chair and gazed again through the window at nothing. finally he said, in a conversational22 tone of voice, ?I have committed a breach23 of faith with the P.M. in telling you all this, 007. I was under oath to tell no one what I have just told you. I decided24 to do what I have done because I have an idea, a hunch25, and I wish this idea to be pursued by a?-he hesitated-?by a reliable man. It seemed to me that the only grain of possible evidence in this case was the DEW radar plot, a doubtful one I admit, of the plane that left the east-west air channel over the Atlantic and turned south towards Bermuda and the Bahamas. I decided to accept this evidence, although it has not aroused much interest elsewhere. I then spent some time studying a map and charts of the Western Atlantic and I endeavored to put myself in the minds of SPECTRE-or rather, for there is certainly a master mind behind all this, in the mind of the chief of SPECTRE : my opposite number, so to speak. And I came to certain conclusions. I decided that a favorable target for Bomb. No. 1, and for Bomb No. 2, if it comes to that, would be in America rather than in Europe. To begin with, the Americans are more bomb-conscious than we in Europe and therefore more susceptible26 to persuasion27 if it came to using Bomb No. 2. Installations worth more than ￡100,000,000, and thus targets for Bomb No. 1, are more numerous in America than in Europe, and finally, guessing that SPECTRE is a European organization, from the style of the letter and from the paper, which is Dutch by the way, and also from the ruthlessness of the plot, it seemed to me at least possible that an Amerrican rather than a European target might have been chosen. Anyway, going on these assumptions, and assuming that the plane could not nave28 landed in America itself or off American shores-the coastal29 radar network is too good-I looked for a neighboring area which might be suitable. And?-M glanced round at Bond and away again-?I decided on the Bahamas, the group of islands, many of them uninhabited, surrounded mostly by shoal water over sand and possessing only one simple radar station-and that one concerned only with civilian30 air traffic and manned by local civilian personnel. South, towards Cuba, Jamaica, and the Caribbean, offers no worthwhile targets. Anyway it is too far from the American coastline. Northwards towards Bermuda has the same disadvantages. But the nearest of the Bahama group is only two hundred miles-only six or seven hours in a fast motorboat or yacht-from the American coastline.?
Bond interrupted. ?If you're right, sir, why didn't SPECTRE send their letter to the President instead of the P.M.??
?For the sake of obscurity. To make us do what we are doing-hunting all round the world instead of only in one part of it. And for maximum impact. SPECTRE would realize that the arrival of the letter right on top of the loss of the bomber would hit us in the solar plexus. It might, they would reason, even shake the money out of us without any further effort. The next stage of their operation, attacking target No. 1, is going to be a nasty business for them. It's going to expose their whereabouts to a considerable extent. They'd like to collect the money and close the operation as quickly as possible. That's what we've got to gamble on. We've got to push them as close to the use of No. 1 bomb as we dare in the hope that something will betray them in the next six and three-quarter days. It's a slim chance. I'm pinning my hopes on my guess?-M swung his chair round to the desk-?and on you. Well?? He looked hard at Bond. ?Any comments? If not, you'd better get started. You're booked on all New York planes from now until midnight. Then on by B.O.A.C. I thought of. using an R.A.F. Canberra, but I don't want your arrival to make any noise. You're a rich young man looking for some property in the islands. That'll give you an excuse to do as much prospecting31 as you want. Well??
?All right, sir.? Bond got to his feet. ?I'd rather have had somewhere more interesting-the Iron Curtain beat, for instance. I can't help feeling this is a bigger operation than a small unit could take on. For my money this looks more like a Russian job. They get the experimental plane and the bombs-they obviously want them-and throw dust in our eyes with all this SPECTRE ballyhoo. If SMERSH was still in business, I'd say they'd got a finger in it somewhere. Just their style. But the Eastern Stations may pick up something on that if there's anything in the idea. Anything else, sir? Who do I cooperate with in Nassau??
?The Governor knows you're coming. They've got a well-trained police force. C.I.A. are sending down a good man, I gather. With a communications outfit. They've got more of that sort of machinery32 than we have. Take a cipher33 machine with the Triple X setting. I want to hear every single detail you turn up. Personal to me. Right??
?Right, sir.? Bond went to the door and let himself out. There was nothing more to be said. This looked like the biggest job the Service had ever been given, and in Bond's opinion, for he didn't give much for M's guess, he had been relegated34 to the back row of the chorus. So be it. He would get himself a good sunburn and watch the show from the wings.
When Bond walked out of the building, carrying the neat leather cipher case, an expensive movie camera perhaps, slung35 over his shoulder, the man in the beige Volkswagen stopped scratching the burn-scab under his shirt, loosened, for the tenth time, the long-barrelled .45 in the holster under his arm, started the car, and put it in gear. He was twenty yards behind Bond's parked Bentley. He had no idea what the big building was. He had simply obtained Bond's home address from the receptionist at Shrublands and, as soon as he got out of the Brighton hospital, he had carefully tailed Bond. The car was hired, under an assumed name. When he had done what had to be done he would go straight to London Airport and take the first plane out to any country on the Continent. Count Lippe was a sanguine36 individual. The job, the private score he had to settle, presented no problem to him. He was a ruthless, vengeful man and he had eliminated many obstreperous37 and perhaps dangerous people in his life. He reasoned that, if they every came to hear of this, SPECTRE would not object. The overheard telephone conversation on that first day at the clinic showed that his cover had been broached38, however slightly, and it was just conceivable that he could be traced through his membership in the Red Lightning Tong, From there to SPECTRE was a long step, but Sub-operator G knew that once a cover began to run, it ran like an old sock. Apart from that, this man must be paid off. Count Lippe had to be quits with him.
Bond was getting into his car. He had slammed the door. Sub-operator G watched the blue smoke curl from the twin exhausts. He got moving.
On the other side of the road, and a hundred yards behind the Volkswagen SPECTRE No. 6 slipped his goggles39 down over his eyes, stamped the 500-c.c. Triumph into gear, and accelerated down the road. He swerved40 neatly41 through the traffic-he had been a test rider for D.K.W. at one time in his postwar career-and stationed himself ten yards behind the off rear wheel of the Volkswagen and just out of the driver's line of vision in the windscreen mirror. He had no idea why Sub-operator G was following the Bentley, nor whom the Bentley belonged to, His job was to kill the driver of the Volkswagen. He put his hand into the leather satchel42 he carried slung over his shoulder, took out the heavy grenade-it was twice the normal military size-and watched the traffic ahead for the right pattern to allow his getaway.
Sub-operator G was watching for a similar pattern. He also noted43 the spacing on the lampposts on the pavement in case he might be blocked and have to run off the road. Now the cars ahead were sparse44. He stamped his foot into the floor and, driving with his left hand, drew out the Colt with his right. Now he was up with the Bentley's rear bumper45. Now he was alongside. The dark profile was a sitting target. With a last quick glance ahead, he raised the gun.
It was the cheeky iron rattle46 of the Volkswagen's air-cooled engine that made Bond turn his head, and it was this minute reduction of the target area that saved his jaw47. If he had then accelerated, the second bullet would have got him, but some blessed instinct made his foot stamp the brake at the same time as his head ducked so swiftly that his chin hit the horn button, nearly knocking him out. Almost simultaneously48, instead of a third shot, there came the roar of an explosion and the remains49 of his windshield, already shattered, cascaded50 around him. The Bentley had stopped, the engine stalled. Brakes screamed. There were shouts and the panicky screams of horns. Bond shook his head and cautiously raised it. The Volkswagen, one wheel still spinning lay on its side in front and broadside to the Bentley. Most of the roof had been blown off. Inside, and half sprawling51 into the road, was a horrible, glinting mess. Flames were licking at the blistered52 paintwork. People were gathering53. Bond pulled himself together and got quickly out of his car. He shouted, ?Stand back. The petrol tank'll go.? Almost as he said the words there came a dull boom and a cloud of black smoke. The flames spurted54, In the distance, sirens sounded. Bond edged through the people and strode quickly back toward his headquarters, his thoughts racing55.
The inquiry56 made Bond lose two planes to New York. By the time the police had put out the fire and had transported the bits of man and the bits of machinery and bomb casing to the morgue it was quite clear that they would have nothing to go on but the shoes, the number on the gun, some fibers57 and shreds58 of clothing, and the car. The car-hire people remembered nothing but a man with dark glasses, a driver's license59 in the name of Johnston, and a handful of fivers. The car had been hired three days before for one week. Plenty of people remembered the motorcyclist, but it seemed that he had no rear number plate. He had gone like a bat out of hell toward Baker60 Street. He wore goggles. Medium build. Nothing else.
Bond had not been able to help. He had seen nothing of the Volkswagen driver. The roof of the Volkswagen had been too low. There had only been a hand and the glitter of a gun.
The Secret Service asked for a copy of the police report and M instructed that this should be sent to the Thunderball war room. He saw Bond briefly61 again, rather impatiently, as if it had all been Bond's fault. Then he told Bond to forget about it-it was probably something to do with one of his past cases. A hangover of some kind. The police would get to the bottom of it in time. The main thing was operation Thunderball . Bond had better get a move on.
By the time Bond left the building for the second time, it had begun to rain. One of the mechanics from the car pool at the back of the building had done what he could, knocking out the remains of the Bentley's windscreen and cleaning the bits out of the car, but when he got home at lunch time Bond was soaked to the skin. He left the car in a nearby garage, telephoned Rolls and his insurance company (he had got too close to a lorry carrying steel lengths, for reinforced concrete presumably. No, he had not got the lorry's number. Sorry, but you know how it is when these things happen all of a sudden), and then went home and had a bath and changed into his dark blue tropical worsted. He packed carefully-one large suitcase and a hold-all for his underwater swimming gear-and went through to the kitchen.
May was looking rather contrite62. It seemed as if she might make another speech. Bond held up his hand. ?Don't tell me, May. You were right. I can't do my work on carrot juice. I've got to be off in an hour and I need some proper food. Be an angel and make me your kind of scrambled63 eggs-four eggs. Four rashers of that American hickory-smoked bacon if we've got any left, hot buttered toast-your kind, not whole-meal-and a big pot of coffee, double strength. And bring in the drink tray.?
May looked at him, relieved but aghast. ?Whatever happened, Mr. James??
Bond laughed at the expression on her face. ?Nothing, May. It just occurred to me that life's too short. Plenty of time to watch the calories when one gets to heaven.?
Bond left May tut-tutting at this profanity, and went off to look to his armament.
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1
assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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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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vindicator
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| n.维护者，辩护者，辩明者 | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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bomber
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| n.轰炸机，投弹手，投掷炸弹者 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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radar
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| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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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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hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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coastal
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| adj.海岸的，沿海的，沿岸的 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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prospecting
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| n.探矿 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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obstreperous
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| adj.喧闹的，不守秩序的 | |
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broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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42
satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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46
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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47
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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48
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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49
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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cascaded
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| 级联的 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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fibers
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| 光纤( fiber的名词复数 )； （织物的）质地； 纤维，纤维物质 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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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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