johngardner.winloseordie-第19部分

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trice　had　put　together　quickly；　and　allowed　to　simmer　while　they　were　dealing　with　the　tree。　There　was　also　bread　and　a　choice　of　a　dozen　cheeses；　washed　down　with　a　bottle　of　good　local　wine。　Afterwards；　Bond　stretched　out　in　an　easy　chair；　with　Beatrice　resting　her　back　against　his　legs；　while　his　arm　caressed　her　shoulder；　occasionally　dropping　to　finger　one　of　her　breasts。
　He　had　purposely　not　asked　her　anything　about　her　contact　with　London。　Now　he　thought　the　time　was　right。　'What　was　their　reaction？'
'Whose？'
'London's　reaction　to　the　Pennington　girl　being　around。'
　She　twisted　her　body　so　that　she　could　look　up　at　him。　'Better　you　shouldn't　know。　It'll　all　be　taken　care　of。　James。　It's　under　control。'
　He　nodded；　trying　to　explain　that　all　this　was　new　to　him。　'Normally　it's　me　doing　the　protection　and　giving　the　orders。'
　'Well。〃　her　voice　took　on　the　husky　tone　he　had　e　to　know　and　appreciate　from　the　previous　night；　and　what　had　passed　between　them　during　the　morning。　'Well；　James；　there　are　some　orders　you　can　give　me。〃
　'I　hadn't　noticed　it。　You're　a　pretty　dominant　young　woman。　Even　。　。　。〃
　'Even　in　bed？　I　know；　but　1　can　change　all　that。　You　want　to　try？'
　'Soon。〃　He　sounded　very　relaxed。　'You　know；　Beatrice。　I　think　…　barring　anything　going　wrong　…　this　is　going　to　be　one　of　the　happiest　Christmases　ever。〃
　She　took　his　hand　from　her　shoulder　and　drew　it　down　to　her　mouth；　kissing　it。　nibbling　at　the　vortex　between　thumb　and　forefinger；　then　gently　sucking　each　linger　in　turn。　At　last　she　asked；　'Until　now；　what's　the　best　Christmas　you　can　remember？'
　Bond　grunted　and　stretched。　'I　think　the　last　Christmas　I　spent　with　my　parents〃　His　voice　also　changed；　the　sentences　delivered　haltingly；　as　though　he　found　it　difficult　to　discuss。　Tm　a　mongrel　as　well。　Bea。　Scottish　father　and　Swiss　mother。　Christmas　in　a　little　chalet　on　Lago　Lugano〃　He　gave　a　laugh；　'Odd　that　it　was　the　best；　because　I　was　ill　…　just　recovering　anyway。　Chickenpox；　measles；　that　sort　of　thing。〃〃
'Why　was　it　the　best？'
　He　gave　an　almost　schoolboyish　smile。　〃I　got　everything　I　asked　for。　They　indulged　me。　There　was　an　air…pistol；　as　I　recall　it〃
'What　else？'
'I　had　to　stay　in　bed；　but　my　father　opened　the　window　and
put　some　tin　cans　on　the　ledge。　Let　me　pot　away　at　them　for　half　an　hour　or　so。　In　the　evening　they　both　stayed　in　my　room　and　ate　Christmas　dinner　from　trays。　It　was　different。　A　final　taste　of　love。　I'll　never　forget　it。'
'Final？　Why　final？'
'My　parents　were　killed；　climbing；　a　few　weeks　later。'
　〃Oh；　James。'　She　seemed　shocked；　as　though　regretting　she　had　asked。
　　LA　long　time　ago　Beatrice。　Your　turn。　Your　best　Christmas　ever？'
　She　twisted　around　and　pulled　him　down　from　the　chair；　close　to　her。　on　the　floor。　'This　Christmas。　I　never　had　great　Christmases；　James；　and　I've　never　had　things　happen　to　me　so　quickly　before。　It's　。　。　。　it's　all　strange。　I　don't　entirely　believe　it。'　She　took　his　hand　and　placed　it　intimately　against　her。
　Bond　fumbled　in　his　pocket　and　brought　out　the　gift…wrapped　package。　'Merry　Christmas；　Beatrice。'
　She　opened　it　like　a　child；　tearing　the　paper　from　it　as　（hough　she　could　not　wait　to　see　what　lay　beyond。　When　she　lifted　the　lid　of　the　box　she　gave　a　little　cry。　'Oh。　Oh。　Oh。　my　God；　James。'
'Like　it'？1
　She　looked　up　at　him　and　he　could　see　the　tears　staining　her　cheeks。
　Later；　in　the　darkness　of　the　bedroom；　and　at　a　crucial　moment；　she　whispered；　'Merry　Christmas；　James　darling。'
　Without　thinking。　Bond　whispered；　'God　bless　us；　every　one。'
　Franco；　Umberto　and　the　dogs　must　have　done　their　work　well。　Nothing　came　suddenly　to　interrupt　a　blissful　night；　and　when　the　lovers　dropped　into　sleep　they　did　so　with　quiet　untroubled　dreams。
　Waking　at　ten…thirty；　Beatrice　proved　to　be　highly　domesticated　and　moved　around　the　kitchen　with　speed；　preparing　their　meal。　Even　the　Browning　9mm。　tucked　into　her　waistband；　did　not　seem　out　of　place。
They　ate　chicken；　not　the　traditional　turkey。　But　it　was　a　huge　bird；　cooked　in　some　mystic　manner　which　she　said　had　been　a　secret　of　her　mother's。　The　trimmings　were　in　keeping；　however；　and　after　the　chicken　there　was　a　real　Christmas　pudding；　round　like　those　you　see　in　Victorian　drawings　and　very　rich；　with　an　outrageously　alcoholic　brandy　sauce。　Then　came　mince　pies　and　nuts。
'What　about　the　crackers？'　Bond　asked　with　a　laugh。
　'Sorry；　my　darling。　Couldn't　lay　my　hands　on　a　single　Christmas　cracker；　nor　any　kind　of　favour。'
　'I　think　I'll　sleep　for　a　week。'　Bond　stretched　his　arms　and　yawned。
　'Well；　that's　not　what　you're　going　to　do。〃She　rose。　'I'm　going　to　let　you　drive　me　to　the　other　side　of　the　island；　and　we're　going　to　walk　off　the　food　and　let　the　sea　air　clear　our　heads。　e　on。'　She　moved　quickly　to　the　front　windows；　grabbing　the　keys　and　sliding　them　open。　'Race　you　to　the　car。'
　Bond　picked　up　his　Browning；　cocked　it　and　settled　it　in　the　shoulder　holster；　then　checked　that　he　had　the　car　keys；　and　followed　her。　She　had　just　unlocked　the　inner　gate　as　he　got　to　the　top　of　the　stone　steps　leading　down　to　it。　'Stop。　Wait　for　me！'　he　called；　laughing。
　She　giggled　as　he　ran　after　her。　heading　for　the　car。　Then　Bond　stopped；　eyes　widening　with　horror。　The　main　front　gates　were　drawn　apart　and　he　shouted　'No！'　and　again；　'No。　Beatrice！'　as　he　saw　her　tug　at　the　car　door；　hardly　believing　what　his　eyes　and　brain　told　him。　'Beatrice；　no！　No！　Don't　open　。　。'
　But　the　car　door　moved　and　opened。　As　it　did　so；　she　looked　up　at　him；　laughing；　happy。　Then　the　ball　of　flame　erupted　from　inside　the　Fiat。　The　wind　from　the　explosion　hit　him　a　second　later；　knocking　him　backwards；　making　his　ears　sing；　scorching　his　eyes　as　the　flame　leaped　from　the　shattered　car。
　He　reached　for　the　pistol　and　had　it　up　as　someone　seized　him　from　behind。
　Then　life　changed。　There　were　cars　and　people。　Men　in　uniform；　others　in　plain　cloihes。　Some　dashed　around　to　ihc　rear　of　the　villa；　and　through　his　singing　ears。　Bond　thought　he　heard　barking；　then　shots；　from　the　garden。
　Somehow　he　was　back　in　the　villa；　sitting　with　the　remnants　of　their　Christmas　meal　still　on　the　table；　and　a　familiar　figure　was　striding　through　the　sliding　doors。
'Dragontooth；　Captain　Bond；'　Clover　Pennington　said。　'I'm　sorry；　but　it　was　the　only　way；　and　it　almost　didn't　work。　Can　you　hear　me。　sir？　Dragontooth。'
　Bond　looked　up　at　her　with　loathing　and　spat　out；　'Dragon…tooth；　and　all　the　other　Demons　of　the　Pit　to　you！'　He　even　seemed　to　be　cringing　back　against　the　chair；　as　though　to　get　away　from　her。
　
　9
　
　Northanger
Even　though　he　had　seen　the　ambulance　people；　firemen；　and　the　police　around　the　twisted　and　blackened　shell　that　had　once　been　the　Fiat；　James　Bond　could　not　take　all　of　it　in。　Vaguely；　in　the　far　eorner　of　his　mind；　he　realised　that　he　must　be　in　shock；　but　every　time　he　turned　to　Clover　Pennington　he　expected　to　see　the　trim　and　bubbly　Beatrice　Maria　da　Ricci。　He　could　not　believe　she　was　dead；　even　though　Clover　was　spelling　it　out　to　him：　slowly；　as　one　explains　to　a　child；　and　loudly　as　his　ears　still　rang　from　the　explosion。
　'She　was　either　'Cat'　or　one　of　'Cat's'　close　acplices；'　Clover　told　him；　time　and　time　again。　It　was　like　being　beaten　over　the　head。　Occasionally　a　plain…clothes　man　came　to　her；　muttered　in　her　ear　and　received　a　reply。　'M　had　the　staff　here　checked　out。　One　of　our　people　spotted　there　had　been　some　kind　of　a　switch　when　they　saw　the　man　called　Franco　in　the　gardens。　We　went　on　full　alert　then。　Nobody　was　sure　of　the　situation。　That　is　until　I　spotted　you　with　her　yesterday。'
　Another　couple　of　men　came　in　through　（he　french　windows　and　spoke　to　her。　Clover's　eyes　flicked　towards　Bond；　then　away。　When　the　men　left　she　said　that；　unhappily；　the　two　men　Beatrice　had　at　the　house　had　been　killed　in　the　firefight。　'My　orders　were　to　be　absolutely　ruthless；　though　we　had　to　try　and　get　at　least　one　of　the　team　alive。　Unhappily　we　didn't　manage　it；　and　I'm　uncertain　whether　！he　Ricci　girl　was　the　'Cat'　or　not　。　。　。　And　。　。　。'　she　paused；　embarrassed。　'And　I　don't　know　if　we'll　ever　gel　confirmation。　She　must　have　taken　ihe　full　blast。　There's　nothing；　or　very　little；　left。　Sorry；'　she　added；　as　though　apologising。
Bond　sat；　staring　into　space　as　though　he　was　taking　nothing　in。　'She　gave　me　the　right　daily　codes；'　he　said；　his　voice　like　that　of　a　robol。
　'They　had　the　telephone　in　here　wired。　Picked　it　all　up　at　the　big　villa。'　Clover；　in　her　pleated　grey　skirt；　sweater　and　sensible　shoes；　felt　she　was　still　not　really　getting　to　him。　'Captain　Bond？　James？　Sir？'　she　tried。　But　he　still　sat。　staring　into　space。
　Someone　switched　on　the　radio　in　the　kitchen。　'Have　yourself　я　merry　little　Christmas。'　the　late　Bing　Crosby　sang　in　English；　and　she　saw　Bond's　head　lift；　cocked　to　one　side。
　〃Put　that　off。　you　clown！'　Clover　shouted；　then　turned　back　to　Bond。　'They've　found　the　regular　staff；　arid　the　watchers　our　people　put　in。　At　least　they're　alive：　gagged　and　bound　in　the　wine　cellars。　Well　know　more　when　our　fellows　provide　their　reports　and　descriptions。　Now；　I　have　to　get　you　out　of　here；　sir。　Do　you　understand？　We　really　do　have　to　debrief　you　as　well。'
　Finally。　Bond　nod