iam fleming.for your eyes only-第29部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　watch　…　〃if　it　had　crossed　his　mind　to　have　me　followed　here。　He　is　a　very　suspicious　man。〃　She　put　her　hand　out　and　touched　his　sleeve。　Now　she　looked　nervous。　She　said　urgently：　〃I　think　you　had　better　go　now。　This　has　been　a　great　mistake。〃
　Bond　openly　looked　at　his　watch。　It　was　three…thirty。　He　moved　his　head　so　that　he　could　look　behind　the　umbrella　and　back　down　the　beach。　Far　down　by　the　bathing　huts；　their　outlines　dancing　slightly　in　the　heat　haze；　were　three　men　in　dark　clothes。　They　were　walking　purposefully　up　the　beach；　their　feet　keeping　step　as　if　they　were　a　squad。
　Bond　got　to　his　feet。　He　looked　down　at　the　bent　head。　He　said　drily：　〃I　see　what　you　mean。　Just　tell　Colombo　that　from　now　on　I'm　writing　his　life…story。　And　I'm　a　very　persistent　writer。　So　long。〃　Bond　started　running　up　the　sand　towards　the　tip　of　the　peninsula。　From　there　he　could　double　back　down　the　other　shore　to　the　village　and　the　safety　of　people。
　Down　the　beach　the　three　men　broke　into　a　fast　jogtrot；　elbows　and　legs　pounding　in　time　with　each　other　as　if　they　were　long…distance　runners　out　for　a　training　spin。　As　they　jogged　past　the　girl；　one　of　the　men　raised　a　hand。　She　raised　hers　in　answer　and　then　lay　down　on　the　sand　and　turned　over　…　perhaps　so　that　her　back　could　now　get　its　toasting；　or　perhaps　because　she　did　not　want　to　watch　the　man…hunt。
　Bond　took　off　his　tie　as　he　ran　and　put　it　in　his　pocket。　It　was　very　hot　and　he　was　already　sweating　profusely。　But　so　would　the　three　men　be。　It　was　a　question　who　was　in　better　training。　At　the　tip　of　the　peninsula；　Bond　clambered　up　on　to　the　seawall　and　looked　back。　The　men　had　hardly　gained；　but　now　two　of　them　were　fanning　out　to　cut　round　the　edge　of　the　golf　course　boundary。　They　did　not　seem　to　mind　the　danger　notices　with　the　skull　and　crossbones。　Bond；　running　fast　down　the　wide　seawall；　measured　angles　and　distances。　The　two　men　were　cutting　across　the　base　of　the　triangle。　It　was　going　to　be　a　close　call。
　Bond's　shirt　was　already　soaked　and　his　feet　were　beginning　to　hurt。　He　had　run　perhaps　a　mile。　How　much　farther　to　safety？　At　intervals　along　the　seawall　the　breeches　of　antique　cannon　had　been　sunk　in　the　concrete。　They　would　be　mooring　posts　for　the　fishing　fleets　sheltering　in　the　protection　of　the　lagoons　before　taking　to　the　Adriatic。　Bond　counted　his　steps　between　two　of　them。　Fifty　yards。　How　many　black　knobs　to　the　end　of　the　wall　…　to　the　first　houses　of　the　village？　Bond　counted　up　to　thirty　before　the　line　vanished　into　the　heat　haze。　Probably　another　mile　to　go。　Could　he　do　it；　and　fast　enough　to　beat　the　two　flankers？　Bond's　breath　was　already　rasping　in　his　throat。　Now　even　his　suit　was　soaked　with　sweat　and　the　cloth　of　his　trousers　was　chafing　his　legs。　Behind　him；　three　hundred　yards　back；　was　one　pursuer。　To　his　right；　dodging　among　the　sand…dunes　and　converging　fast；　were　the　other　two。　To　his　left　was　a　twenty…foot　slope　of　masonry　to　the　green　tide　ripping　out　into　the　Adriatic。
　Bond　was　planning　to　slow　down　to　a　walk　and　keep　enough　breath　to　try　and　shoot　it　out　with　the　three　men；　when　two　things　happened　in　quick　succession。　First　he　saw　through　the　haze　ahead　a　group　of　spear…fishermen。　There　were　about　half　a　dozen　of　them；　some　in　the　water　and　some　sunning　themselves　on　the　seawall。　Then；　from　the　sand…dunes　came　the　deep　roar　of　an　explosion。　Earth　and　scrub　and　what　might　have　been　bits　of　a　man　fountained　briefly　into　the　air；　and　a　small　shock…wave　hit　him。　Bond　slowed。　The　other　man　in　the　dunes　had　stopped。　He　was　standing　stock…still。　His　mouth　was　open　and　a　frightened　jabber　came　from　it。　Suddenly　he　collapsed　on　the　ground　with　his　arms　wapped　round　his　head。　Bond　knew　the　signs。　He　would　not　move　again　until　someone　came　and　carried　him　away　from　there。　Bond's　heart　lifted。　Now　he　had　only　about　two　hundred　yards　to　go　to　the　fishermen。　They　were　already　gathering　into　a　group；　looking　towards　him。　Bond　summoned　a　few　words　of　Italian　and　rehearsed　them。　〃Mi　Ingles。　Prego；　dove　il　carabinieri。〃　Bond　glanced　over　his　shoulder。　Odd；　but　despite　the　witnessing　spear…fishers；　the　man　was　still　ing　on。　He　had　gained　and　was　only　about　a　hundred　yards　behind。　There　was　a　gun　in　his　hand。　Now；　ahead；　the　fishermen　had　fanned　out　across　Bond's　path。　They　had　harpoon　guns　held　at　the　ready。　In　the　centre　was　a　big　man　with　a　tiny　red　bathing…slip　hanging　beneath　his　stomach。　A　green　mask　was　slipped　back　on　to　the　crown　of　his　head。　He　stood　with　his　blue　swim…fins　pointing　out　and　his　arms　akimbo。　He　looked　like　Mr　Toad　of　Toad　Hall　in　Technicolor。　Bond's　amused　thought　died　in　him　stillborn。　Panting；　he　slowed　to　a　walk。　Automatically　his　sweaty　hand　felt　under　his　coat　for　the　gun　and　drew　it　out。　The　man　in　the　centre　of　the　arc　of　pointing　harpoons　was　Enrico　Colombo。
　Colombo　watched　him　approach。　When　he　was　twenty　yards　away；　Colombo　said　quietly：　〃Put　away　your　toy；　Mr　Bond　of　the　Secret　Service。　These　are　CO2　harpoon　guns。　And　stay　where　you　are。　Unless　you　wish　to　make　a　copy　of　Mantegna's　St　Sebastian。〃　He　turned　to　the　man　on　his　right。　He　spoke　in　English。　〃At　what　range　was　that　Albanian　last　week？〃
　〃Twenty　yards；　padrone。　And　the　harpoon　went　right　through。　But　he　was　a　fat　man　…　perhaps　twice　as　thick　as　this　one。〃
　Bond　stopped。　One　of　the　iron　bollards　was　beside　him。　He　sat　down　and　rested　the　gun　on　his　knee。　It　pointed　at　the　centre　of　Colombo's　big　stomach。　He　said：　〃Five　harpoons　in　me　won't　stop　one　bullet　in　you；　Colombo。〃
　Colombo　smiled　and　nodded；　and　the　man　who　had　been　ing　softly　up　behind　Bond　hit　him　once　hard　in　the　base　of　the　skull　with　the　butt　of　his　Luger。
　
　When　you　e　to　from　being　hit　on　the　head　the　first　reaction　is　a　fit　of　vomiting。　Even　in　his　wretchedness　Bond　was　aware　of　two　sensations　…　he　was　in　a　ship　at　sea；　and　someone；　a　man；　was　wiping　his　forehead　with　a　cool　wet　towel　and　murmuring　encouragement　in　bad　English。　〃Is　okay；　amigo。　Take　him　easy。　Take　him　easy。〃
　Bond　fell　back　on　his　bunk；　exhausted。　It　was　a　fortable　small　cabin　with　a　feminine　smell　and　dainty　curtains　and　colours。　A　sailor　in　a　tattered　vest　and　trousers　…　Bond　thought　he　recognized　him　as　one　of　the　spear…fishermen　…　was　bending　over　him。　He　smiled　when　Bond　opened　his　eyes。　〃Is　better；　yes？　Subito　okay。〃　He　rubbed　the　back　of　his　neck　in　sympathy。
　〃It　hurts　for　a　little。　Soon　it　will　only　be　a　black。　Beneath　the　hair。　The　girls　will　see　nothing。〃
　Bond　smiled　feebly　and　nodded。　The　pain　of　the　nod　made　him　screw　up　his　eyes。　When　he　opened　them　the　sailor　shook　his　head　in　admonition。　He　brought　his　wrist…watch　close　up　to　Bond's　eyes。　It　said　seven　o'clock。　He　pointed　with　his　little　finger　at　the　figure　nine。　'Mangiare　con　Padrone；　Si？〃
　Bond　said：　〃Si。〃
　The　man　put　his　hand　to　his　cheek　and　laid　his　head　on　one　side。　〃Dormire。〃
　Bond　said　〃Si〃　again　and　the　sailor　went　out　of　the　cabin　and　closed　the　door　without　locking　it。
　Bond　got　gingerly　off　the　bunk　and　went　over　to　the　wash　basin　and　set　about　cleaning　himself。　On　top　of　the　chest　of　drawers　was　a　neat　pile　of　his　personal　belongings。　Everything　was　there　except　his　gun。　Bond　stowed　the　things　away　in　his　pockets；　and　sat　down　again　on　the　bunk　and　smoked　and　thought。　His　thoughts　were　totally　inconclusive。　He　was　being　taken　for　a　ride；　or　rather　a　sail；　but　from　the　behaviour　of　the　sailor　it　did　not　seem　that　he　was　regarded　as　an　enemy。　Yet　a　great　deal　of　trouble　had　been　taken　to　make　him　prisoner　and　one　of　Colombo's　men　had　even；　though　inadvertently；　died　in　the　process。　It　did　not　seem　to　be　just　a　question　of　killing　him。　Perhaps　this　soft　treatment　was　the　preliminary　to　trying　to　make　a　deal　with　him。　What　was　the　deal　…　and　what　was　the　alternative？
　At　nine　o'clock　the　same　sailor　came　for　Bond　and　led　him　down　a　short　passage　to　a　small；　blowzy　saloon；　and　left　him。　There　was　a　table　and　two　chairs　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　beside　the　table　a　nickel…plated　trolley　laden　with　food　and　drinks。　Bond　tried　the　hatchway　at　the　end　of　the　saloon。　It　was　bolted。　He　unlatched　one　of　the　portholes　and　looked　out。　There　was　just　enough　light　to　see　that　the　ship　was　about　two　hundred　tons　and　might　once