Dr. NO BY IAN FLEMING

Twenty million? It would be a priceless victory in the armaments race. I could name my figure. Don’t you agree, Mister Bond? And don’t you agree that these considerations make your arguments and threats seem rather puny?”

Bond said nothing. There was nothing to say. Suddenly he was back in the quiet room high up above Regent’s Park. He could hear the rain slashing softly against the window and M’s voice, impatient, sarcastic, saying, “Oh, some damned business about birds… holiday in the sun’ll do you good… routine inquiry.” And he, Bond, had taken a canoe and a fisherman and a picnic lunch and had gone off-how many days, how many weeks ago?-‘to have a look’. Well, he had had his look into Pandora’s Box. He had found out the answers, been told the secrets-and now? Now he was going to be politely shown the way to his grave, taking the secrets with him and the waif he had picked up and dragged along with him on his lunatic adventure. The bitterness inside Bond came up into his mouth so that for a moment he thought he was going to retch. He reached for his champagne and emptied the glass. He said harshly, “All right, Doctor No. Now let’s get on with the cabaret. What’s the programme-knife, bullet, poison, rope? But make it quick, I’ve seen enough of you.”

Doctor No’s lips compressed into a thin purple line. The eyes were hard as onyx under the billiard-ball forehead and skull. The polite mask had gone. The Grand Inquisitor sat in the high-backed chair. The hour had struck for the peine forte et dure.

Doctor No spoke a word and the two guards took a step forward and held the two victims above the elbows, forcing their arms back against the sides of their chairs. There was no resistance. Bond concentrated on holding the lighter in his armpit. The white-gloved hands on his biceps felt like steel bands. He smiled across at the girl. “I’m sorry about this, Honey. I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to play together after all.”

The girl’s eyes in the pale face were blue-black with fear. Her lips trembled. She said, “Will it hurt?”

“Silence!” Doctor No’s voice was the crack of a whip. “Enough of this foolery. Of course it will hurt. I am interested in pain. I am also interested in rinding out how much the human body can endure. From time to time I make experiments on those of my people who have to be punished. And on trespassers like yourselves. You have both put me to a great deal of trouble, In exchange I intend to put you to a great deal of pain. I shall record the length of your endurance. The facts will be noted. One day my findings will be given to the world. Your deaths will have served the purposes of science. I never waste human material. The German experiments on live humans during the war were of great benefit to science. It is a year since I put a girl to death in the fashion I have chosen for you, woman. She was a Negress. She lasted three hours. She died of terror. I have wanted a white girl for comparison. -I was not surprised when your arrival was reported. I get what I want.” Doctor No sat back in his chair. His eyes were now fixed on the girl, watching her reactions. She stared back at him, half hypnotized, like a bush mouse in front of a rattlesnake.

Bond set his teeth.

“You are a Jamaican, so you will know what I am talking about. This island is called Crab Key. It is called by that name because it is infested with crabs, land crabs-what they call ia Jamaica ‘black crabs’. You know them. They weigh about a pound each and they are as big as saucers. At this time of year they come up in thousands from their holes near the shore and climb up towards the mountain. There, in the coral uplands, they go to ground again in holes in the rock and spawn their broods. They march up in armies of hundreds at a time. They march through everything and over everything. In Jamaica they go through houses that are in their path. They are like the lemmings of Norway. It is a compulsive migra-. tion.” Doctor No paused. He said softly, “But there is a difference. The crabs devour what they find in their path. And at present, woman, they are ‘running’. They are coming up the mountainside in their tens of thousands, great red and orange and black waves of them, scuttling and hurrying and scraping against the rock above us at this moment. And tonight, in the middle of their path, they are going to find the naked body of a woman pegged out-a banquet spread for, them-and they will feel the warm body with their feeding pincers, and one will make the first incision with his fighting claws and then… and then…”

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