if.goldfinger-第39部分

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massage　from　Oddjob。　To　begin　with；　only　grade　one。　Grades　two　and　three　are　still　more　persuasive。'
　Bond　closed　his　eyes。　The　sickly　zoo…smell　of　Oddjob　enveloped　him。　Big；　rasping　fingers　set　to　work　on　him　carefully；　delicately。　A　pressure　here；　bined　with　a　pressure　there；　a　sudden　squeeze；　a　pause；　and　then　a　quick；　sharp　blow。　Always　the　hard　hands　were　surgically　accurate。　Bond　ground　his　teeth　until　he　thought　they　would　break。　The　sweat　of　pain　began　to　form　pools　in　the　sockets　of　his　closed　eyes。　The　shrill　whine　of　the　saw　was　getting　louder。　It　reminded　Bond　of　the　sawdust…scented　sounds　of　long　ago　summer　evenings　at　home　in　England。　Home？　This　was　his　home；　this　cocoon　of　danger　he　had　chosen　to　live　in。　And　here　he　would　be　buried　'in　some　corner　of　a　foreign　blast　furnace　that　is　for　ever　two　thousand　degrees　Centigrade'。　God　rest　ye　merry　gentlemen　of　the　Secret　Service！　What　should　he　give　himself　as　an　epitaph？　What　should　be　his　'famous　last　words'？　That　you　have　no　choice　about　your　birth；　but　you　can　choose　the　way　you　die？　Yes；　it　would　look　well　on　a　tombstone　…　not　Savoir　vivre　but　Savoir　mourir。
　'Mr　Bond。'　Goldfinger's　voice　held　an　ounce　of　urgency。　'Is　this　really　necessary？　Just　tell　me　the　truth。　Who　are　you？　Who　sent　you　here？　What　do　you　know？　Then　it　will　be　so　easy。　You　shall　both　have　a　pill。　There　will　be　no　pain。　It　will　be　like　taking　a　sleeping　draught。　Otherwise　it　will　be　so　messy　…　so　messy　and　distressing。　And　are　you　being　fair　to　the　girl？　Is　this　the　behaviour　of　an　English　gentleman？'
　Oddjob's　torment　had　stopped。　Bond　turned　his　head　slowly　towards　the　voice　and　opened　his　eyes。　He　said；　'Goldfinger；　there　is　nothing　more　to　tell　because　there　is　nothing。　If　you　will　not　accept　my　first　bargain　I　will　make　you　another。　The　girl　and　I　will　work　for　you。　How　about　that？　We　are　capable　people。　You　could　put　us　to　good　use。'
　'And　get　a　knife；　two　knives　in　my　back？　Thank　you　no；　Mr　Bond。'
　Bond　decided　it　was　time　to　stop　talking。　It　was　time　to　start　winding　up　the　mainspring　of　will…power　that　must　not　run　down　again　until　he　was　dead。　Bond　said　politely；　'Then　you　can　go　and　　yourself。'　He　expelled　all　the　breath　from　his　lungs　and　closed　his　eyes。
　'Even　I　am　not　capable　of　that；　Mr　Bond；'　said　Goldfinger　with　good　humour。　'And　now；　since　you　have　chosen　the　stony　path　instead　of　the　smooth；　I　must　extract　what　interest　I　can　from　your　predicament　by　making　the　path　as　stony　as　possible。　Oddjob；　grade　two。'
　The　lever　on　the　table　moved　across　iron　teeth。　Now　Bond　could　feel　the　wind　of　the　saw　between　his　knees。　The　hands　came　back。
　Bond　counted　the　slowly　pounding　pulse　that　utterly　possessed　his　body。　It　was　like　the　huge　panting　power　plant　in　the　other　part　of　the　factory　but；　in　his　case；　it　was　slowly　decelerating。　If　only　it　would　slow　down　quicker。　What　was　this　ridiculous　will　to　live　that　refused　to　listen　to　the　brain？　Who　was　making　the　engine　run　on　although　the　tank　was　dry　of　fuel？　But　he　must　empty　his　mind　of　thought；　as　well　as　his　body　of　oxygen。　He　must　bee　a　vacuum；　a　deep　hole　of　unconsciousness。
　Still　the　light　burned　red　through　his　eyelids。　Still　he　could　feel　the　bursting　pressure　in　his　temples。　Still　the　slow　drum　of　life　beat　in　his　ears。
　A　scream　tried　to　force　its　way　through　the　clamped　teeth。
　Die　damn　you　die　die　damn　you　die　damn　you　die　damn　you　die　damn　you　die。。。
　
　CHAPTER　SIXTEEN
　
　THE　LAST　AND　THE　BIGGEST
　
　THE　WINGS　of　a　dove；　the　heavenly　choir；　Hark　the　Herald　Angels　Sing　…　what　else　ought　he　to　remember　about　Paradise？　It　was　all　so　exactly　like　what　he　had　been　told　in　the　nursery　…　this　sensation　of　flying；　the　darkness；　the　drone　of　the　million　harps。　He　really　must　try　and　remember　the　dope　about　the　place。　Let's　see　now；　one　got　to　the　Pearly　Gates。。。
　A　deep　fatherly　voice　said；　almost　in　his　ear；　'This　is　your　captain　speaking。'　（Well；　well。　Who　was　this。　Saint　Peter？）　'We　are　ing　in　to　land　now。　Will　you　please　fasten　your　seat　belts　and　extinguish　your　cigarettes。　Thank　you。'
　There　must　be　a　whole　lot　of　them；　going　up　together。　Would　Tilly　be　on　the　same　trip？　Bond　squirmed　with　embarrassment。　How　would　he　introduce　her　to　the　others；　to　Vesper　for　instance？　And　when　it　came　to　the　point；　which　would　he　like　the　best？　But　perhaps　it　would　be　a　big　place　with　countries　and　towns。　There　was　probably　no　more　reason　why　he　should　run　into　one　of　his　former　girl　friends　here　than　there　had　been　on　earth。　But　still　there　were　a　lot　of　people　he'd　better　avoid　until　he　got　settled　in　and　found　out　the　form。　Perhaps；　with　so　much　love　about；　these　things　wouldn't　matter。　Perhaps　one　just　loved　all　the　girls　one　met。　Hm。　Tricky　business
　With　these　unworthy　thoughts　in　his　mind；　Bond　relapsed　into　unconsciousness。
　The　next　tiling　he　knew　was　a　gentle　sensation　of　swaying。　He　opened　his　eyes。　The　sun　blinded　them。　He　closed　them　again。　A　voice　above　and　behind　his　head　said；　'Watch　it；　bud。　That　ramp's　steeper　than　it　looks。'　Almost　immediately　there　was　a　heavy　jolt。　A　surly　voice　in　front　said；　'Cheesus；　you're　telling　me。　Why　in　hell　can't　they　put　down　rubber。'
　Bond　thought　angrily；　that's　a　fine　way　to　talk　up　here。　Just　because　I'm　new　and　they　think　no　one's　listening。
　There　was　the　bang　of　a　swing　door。　Something　hit　Bond　sharply　on　a　protruding　elbow。　He　shouted　'Hey！'　and　tried　to　reach　his　elbow　and　rub　it；　but　his　hands　wouldn't　move。
　'Whaddya　know。　Hey；　Sam；　better　call　the　doc。　This　one's　e　round。'
　'Sure！　Here；　put　him　alongside　the　other。'　Bond　felt　himself　being　lowered。　It　was　cooler　now。　He　opened　his　eyes。　A　big　round　Brooklyn　face　was　bent　over　his。　The　eyes　met　his　and　smiled。　The　metal　supports　of　the　stretcher　touched　the　ground。　The　man　said；　'How　ya　feelin'；　mister？'
　'Where　am　I？'　Now　there　was　panic　in　Bond's　voice。　He　tried　to　rise　but　couldn't。　He　felt　the　sweat　break　out　on　his　body。　God！　Was　this　still　part　of　the　old　life？　At　the　thought　of　it；　a　wave　of　grief　poured　through　his　body。　Tears　burned　his　eyes　and　trickled　down　his　cheeks。
　'Hey；　hey！　Take　it　easy；　mister。　You're　okay。　This　is　Idlewild；　New　York。　You're　in　America　now。　No　more　troubles；　see。'　The　man　straightened　up。　He　thought　Bond　was　a　refugee　from　somewhere。　'Sam；　get　movin'。　This　guy's　in　shock。'
　'Okay；　okay。'　The　two　voices　receded；　mumbling　anxiously。
　Bond　found　he　could　move　his　head。　He　looked　round。　He　was　in　a　white…painted　ward　…　presumably　something　to　do　with　the　health　department　of　the　airport。　There　was　a　row　of　tidy　beds。　Sun　poured　down　from　high　windows；　but　it　was　cool；　air…conditioned。　He　was　on　a　stretcher　on　the　floor。　There　was　another　one　next　to　it。　He　strained　his　head　sideways。　It　was　Tilly。　She　was　unconscious。　Her　pale　face；　framed　in　black　hair；　pointed　at　the　ceiling。
　The　door　at　the　end　of　the　ward　sighed　open。　A　doctor　in　a　white　coat　stood　and　held　it。　Goldfinger；　looking　brisk；　cheerful；　walked　swiftly　down　between　the　beds。　He　was　followed　by　Oddjob。　Bond　wearily　closed　his　eyes。　Christ！　So　that　was　the　score。
　Feet　gathered　round　his　stretcher。　Goldfinger　said　breezily；　'Well；　they　certainly　look　in　good　shape；　eh；　Doctor？　That's　one　of　the　blessings　of　having　enough　money。　When　one's　friends　or　one's　staff　are　ill　one　can　get　them　the　very　best　medical　attention。　Nervous　breakdowns；　both　of　them。　And　in　the　same　week！　Would　you　believe　it？　But　I　blame　myself　for　working　them　both　too　hard。　Now　it's　my　duty　to　get　them　back　on　their　feet　again。　Dr　Foch　…　he's　the　best　man　in　Geneva；　by　the　way　…　was　quite　definite。　He　said；　〃They　need　rest；　Mr　Goldfinger。　Rest；　rest　and　again　rest。〃　He　gave　them　sedatives　and　now　they're　on　their　way　to　the　Harkness　Pavilion　at　the　Presbyterian。'　Goldfinger　chuckled　fatly。　'Sow　and　you　shall　reap；　eh；　Doctor？　When　I　gave　the　Harkness　a　million　dollars'　worth　of　X…ray　equipment；　I　certainly　never　expected　anything　back。　But　now？　I　only　had　to　put　through　a　call　and　they've　got　two　fine　rooms　waiting　for　them。　Now　then'　…　there　was　a　rustle　of　notes　…'thank　you　for　all　your　help　with　Immigration。　Fortunately　they　both　had　valid　visas　and　I　think　Immigration　was　satisfied　that　Mr　Auric　Goldfinger　was