“There’s about £500 in there,” she said. “Book yourself in at the Ritz and give that address to Immigration. Get a good used suitcase and put in it what you would take on a golfing holiday. Get your golf clubs. Keep out of sight. BOAC Monarch to New York. Thursday evening. Get a single ticket first thing tomorrow morning. The Embassy won’t give you a visa without seeing your ticket. Car will pick you up at the Ritz at 6.30 Thursday evening. Driver will give you the golf balls. Put ’em in your bag. And,” she looked him straight in the eye, “don’t think you can go into business for yourself with this stuff. The driver will stay alongside you until your luggage has gone out to the plane. And I’ll be at London Airport. So no funny business. Okay?”
Bond shrugged his shoulders. “What would I do with this kind of merchandise?” he said carelessly. “Too big for me. And what happens the other end?”
“Another driver will be waiting outside the customs. He’ll tell you what to do next. Now,” her voice was urgent, “If anything happens at the customs, either end, you know nothing, see? You just don’t know how the balls got into your bag. Whatever they ask you, just go on saying, ‘By me’. Act dumb. I shall be watching. And maybe others too. That I wouldn’t know. If they lock you up in America, ask for the British Consul and go on asking. You won’t get any help from us. But that’s what you’re being paid for. Okay?”
“Fair enough,” said Bond. “The only person I could get into trouble would be you.” He looked appraisingly at her. “And I wouldn’t like that to happen.”
“Shucks,” she said scornfully. “You’ve got nothing on me. Don’t worry about me, my friend. I can look after myself.” She got up and came and stood in front of him. “And don’t ‘little girl’ me,” she said sharply. “We’re on a job. And I can take care of myself. You’d be surprised.”
Bond stood up and away from the window-sill. He smiled down and into the flashing grey eyes that were now dark with impatience. ” ‘I can do anything better than you can.’ Don’t worry. I’ll be a credit to you. But just relax and stop being so business-like for a minute. I’d like to see you again. Could we meet in New York if everything goes all right?” Bond felt treacherous as he said the words. He liked this girl. He wanted to make friends with her. But it would be a question of using ‘ friendship to get further up the pipeline.
She looked thoughtfully at him for a moment and her eyes gradually lost their darkness. Her sharply compressed lips relaxed and parted a little. There was a hint of a stammer in her voice as she answered him.
“I, I… that is,” she brusquely turned away from him. “Hell,” she said, but the word sounded artificial. “I’ve got nothing on Friday night. Guess we might have dinner. ’21’ Club on 52nd. All the cab drivers know it. Eight o’clock. If the job goes off okay. Suit you?” She turned back towards him and looked at his mouth and not his eyes.
“Fine,” said Bond. He thought it was time to get out before he made a mistake. “Now,” he said efficiently. “Is there anything else?”
“No,” she said, and then sharply, as if she had just remembered something. “What’s the time?”
Bond looked at his watch. “Ten to six.”
“I’ve got to get busy,” she said. With a movement of dismissal she walked towards the door. Bond followed her. With her hand on the key she turned. She looked at him, and there was confidence and almost warmth in her eyes. “You’ll be all right,” she said. “Just keep away from me in the plane. Don’t panic if anything goes wrong. If you work out okay,” the patronizing note came back to her voice, “I’ll try and get you some more of the same sort of jobs.”
“Thanks,” said Bond. “I’d appreciate that. I’d enjoy working with you.”
With a slight shrug of the shoulders, she opened the door and Bond walked out into the corridor.