Bond saw again the eyes gazing sullenly at him out of the mirror, and he heard the record playing Fettilles Mortes in the lonely room. “I like her,” he said briefly. He felt Felix Leiter’s eyes watching him speculatively. He looked at his watch. “Well, Felix,” he said. “It looks as if we’ve got hold of the same tiger. But by different tails. It’s going to be fun pulling at them both at the same time. Now I’m going to go and get some sleep. Got a room at the Astor. Where shall we meet on Sunday?”
“Better keep away from this part of town,” said Leiter. “Meet you outside the Plaza. Early, so we can avoid the traffic on the Parkway. Let’s say nine o’clock. By the cab-stand. You know, where the horse-cabs are. Then if I’m late you can get to recognize a horse. Useful up at Saratoga.”
He paid the check and they walked down and out on to the grilling street. Bond hailed a cab. Leiter refused a lift. Instead he took Bond affectionately by the arm.
“Just one thing, James,” he said, and his voice was serious. “You may not think the hell of a lot of American gangsters. Compared with SMERSH for instance, and some of the other folk you’ve been up against. But I can tell you these Spangled boys are the tops. They’ve got a good machine, even if they do care to have funny names. And they’ve got protection. That’s how it is in America these days. But don’t misunderstand me. They really stink. And this job of yours stinks too.” Leiter let go of Bond’s arm and watched him climb into the taxi. Then he leant in through the window.
“And do you know what your job stinks of, you dumb bastard?” he asked cheerfully. “Formaldehyde and lilies.”
9
BITTER CHAMPAGNE
“I’M not going to sleep with you,” said Tiffany Case in a matter-of-fact voice, “so don’t waste your money getting me tight. But I’ll have another and probably another one after that. I just don’t want to drink your Vodka Martinis under false pretences.”
Bond laughed. He gave the order and turned back to her. “We haven’t ordered dinner yet,” he said. “I was going to suggest shellfish and hock. That might have changed your mind. The combination’s supposed to have quite an effect.”
“Listen, Bond,” said Tiffany Case, “it’d take more than Crab-meat Ravigotte to get me into bed with a man. In any event, since it’s your check, I’m going to have caviar, and what you English call ‘cutlets’, and some pink champagne. I don’t often date a good-looking Englishman and the dinner’s going to live up to the occasion.” Suddenly she leant towards him and reached out a hand and put it over his. “Sorry,” she said abruptly. “I didn’t mean that about the check. The dinner’s on me. But I did mean it about the occasion.”
Bond smiled into her eyes, “Don’t be a goose, Tiffany,” he said, using her name for the first time. “I’ve been longing for this evening. And I’m going to have just the same as you. And I’ve got plenty of money for the check. Mr Tree tossed me double or quits for five hundred dollars this morning, and I won.”
At the mention of Shady Tree, the girl’s manner changed. “That ought to cover it,” she said toughly. “Just. You know what they say about this joint? ‘All you can eat for only three hundred bucks.'”
The waiter brought the Martinis, shaken and not stirred, as Bond had stipulated, and some slivers of lemon peel in a wine glass. Bond twisted two of them and let them sink to the bottom of his drink. He picked up his glass and looked at the girl over the rim. “We haven’t drunk to the success of a mission,” he said.
The girl’s mouth turned down sarcastically at the corners. She drank half the Martini at a gulp and put the glass down firmly on the table. “Or to the heart-clutch I only just survived,” she said dryly. “You and your dam golf. I thought you were going to tell that man all about the chip shot you holed in oughty-ought. A little encouragement and you’d have taken out a club and one of those balls and shown him your swing.”