John Gardner Bond 00 Licence Renewed(v2.0)

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ice in a way that almost frightened Q'ute. 'Someone tried to be clever a long
time ago,' he said slowly. In the back of his mind, he remembered, quite
clearly, all the circumstances which had led to the plastic surgery, that
showed now only as a white blemish, after the Cyrillic letter � standing for
SH-had been carved into the back of his hand in an attempt by SMERSH to brand
him as a spy. It was long ago, and very far away now; but clear as yesterday.
He detected the break he had made in Q'ute's guard with his sharp cruelty. So
long ago, he thought: the business with Le Chiffre at Royale-les-Eaux, and a
woman called Vesper - about the same age as this girl sitting on the
workbench, showing off her shapely knees and calves lying dead from an
overdose, her body under the sheets like a stone effigy in a tomb.
The coldness in Bond's mien faded. He smiled at Q'ute, again looking down at
his hand. 'A small accident carelessness on my part. Needed a bit of
surgery, that's all.' Then he went back to removing the packing grease from
the Browning. All thoughts of dallying with the Q Branch executive called Ann
Reilly were gone. She was relatively young and still learning the ways of the
secret world, in spite of her electronic efficiency, he decided.
As though to break the mood, she asked, in a small voice, 'What's it like to
kill somebody? They say you've had to kill a lot of people during your time in
the Service.'
'Then they shouldn't talk so much.' It was Bond's turn to snap. He was
reassembling the gun now. 'The need-toknow system operates in the Service.
You, of all people, should know better than to ask questions like that.'
'But I do need to know.' Calmer now, but showing a streak of stubbornness that
Bond had detected in her eyes before this. 'After all, I deal with some of the
important "gee-whizz" stuff. You must also know what that covers secret death:
undetectable. People die in this business. I should know about the end
product.'
Bond completed the reassembly, ran the mechanism back and forth a couple of
times, then picked up one of the magazines containing seven Browning Long 9mm.
rounds that would shatter a piece of five-inch pine board at twenty feet.
Looking at the slim magazine, he thought of its lethal purpose, and what each
of the little jacketed pieces of metal within would do to a man or woman. Yes,
he thought, Q'ute-Ann Reilly-had a right to know. 'Give me a hand;' he nodded
towards a box on the workbench. 'Bring along a couple of spare magazines. We
have to test this little toy on the range, then work's over for the night.'
She picked up the magazines and slid down from her perch as she repeated the
question. 'How does it feel to kill a person?'
'While it's happening, you don't think much about it,' Bond answered flatly.
'It's a reflex. You do it and you don't hesitate. If you're wise, and want to
go on living, you don't think about it afterwards either. I've known men
who've had breakdowns - go for early retirement on half pension for thinking
about it afterwards. There's nothing to tell, my dear Q'u . . . Ann. I try not
to remember. That way I remain detached from its reality.'
'And is that why you clean off your pistol in front of someone like me -
stripping it as though it were a woman?' He did not reply to that, and she
followed Bond quietly through the corridor that led to the range.
It took Bond nearly an hour, and six extra magazines, before he was completely
happy with the Browning. When they finished on the range, he went back to the
gunsmith's room, with Q'ute in his wake, and stripped the gun down for
cleaning after firing. As he completed this last chore, Bond looked up at her.
'Well, you've seen all there is to see. Show's over. You can go home now.'
'You no longer require my services then?'
She was smiling. Bond had not expected that. 'Well,' he said cautiously. 'If
you'd care for dinner . . .' 'I'd love it,' she grinned. Bond took her in the
Saab. They went into Kensington, to the Trattoo in Abingdon Road, where Carlo
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was pleased to see his old customer. Bond had not been there for some time and
was treated with great respect, ordering for the pair of them a simple meal:
the z.uppa di verdura followed by fegato Bacchus, washed down with a light,
young, Bardolino (a '79, for Bardolino should always be drunk young and cool,
even though it is red, rather as the French imbibe their rose wines young, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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