Dr. NO BY IAN FLEMING

He couldn’t tell if the shots had been heard and he had no idea what opposition was left. His only plan was to shoot anyone who got in his way and somehow get to the garage and the marsh buggy. That was their only hope of getting away from the mountain and down to the coast.

The dim yellow bulbs in the ceiling flickered by overhead. Still the tunnel stretched on. Behind him, Honey stumbled. Bond stopped, cursing himself for not having thought of her. She reached for him and for a moment she leaned against him panting. “I’m sorry, James. It’s just that…”

Bond held her to him. He said anxiously, “Are you hurt, Honey?”

“No, I’m all right. It’s just that I’m so terribly tired. And my feet got rather cut on the mountain. I fell a lot in the dark. If we could walk a bit. We’re nearly there. And there’s a door into the garage before we get to the machine shop. Couldn’t we go in there?”

Bond hugged her to him. He said, “That’s just what I’m looking for, Honey. That’s our only hope of getting away. If you can stick it till we get there, we’ve got a real chance.”

Bond put his arm round her waist and took her weight. He didn’t trust himself to look at her feet. He knew they must be bad. It was no good being sorry for each other. There wasn’t time for it if they we’re to stay alive.

They started moving again, Bond’s face grim with the extra effort, the girl’s feet leaving bloody footsteps on the ground, and almost immediately she whispered urgently and there was a wooden door in the wall of the tunnel and it was ajar and no sound came from the other side.

Bond took out his gun and gently eased the door open. The long garage was empty. Under the neon lights the black and gold painted dragon on wheels looked like a float waiting for the Lord Mayor’s Show. It was pointing towards the sliding doors and the hatch of the armoured cabin stood open. Bond prayed that the tank was full and that the mechanic had carried out his orders to get the damage fixed.

Suddenly, from somewhere outside, there was the sound of voices. They came nearer, several of them, jabbering urgently.

Bond took the girl by the hand and ran forward. There was only one place to fide-in the marsh buggy. The girl scrambled in. Bond followed, softly pulling the door shut behind him. They crouched, waiting. Bond thought: only three rounds left in the gun. Too late he remembered the rack of weapons on the wall of the garage. Now the voices were outside. There came the clang of the door being slid back on its runners and a confusion of talk.

“How d’ya know they were shootin’?”

“Couldn’t been nuthen else. I should know.”

“Better take rifles. Here, Joe! Take that one, Lemmy! An’ some pineapples. Box under da table.”

There was the metallic noise of bolts being slid home and safety catches clicked.

“Some feller must a gone nuts. Couldn’t ha’ been da Limey. You ever seen da big pus-feller in da creek? Cheessus! An’ da rest of da tricks da Doc fixed up in da tube? An’ dat white gal. She cain’t have been in much shape dis niornin’. Any of you men bin to have a look?”

“Nossir.”

“No.”

“No.”

“Haw, haw. I’se sho surprised at you fellers. Dat’s a fine piece of ass out dere on de crab walk.”

More rattling and shuffling of feet, then, “Okay let’s go! Two abreast till we gets to da main tunnel. Shoot at da legs. Whoever’s makin’ trouble, da Doc’ll sure want him to play wit.”

“Tee-hee.”

Feet echoed hollowly on the concrete. Bond held his breath as they filed by. Would they notice the shut door of the buggy? But they went on down the garage and into the tunnel and the noise of them slowly faded away.

Bond touched the girl’s arm and put his finger to his lips. Softly he eased open the door and listened again. Nothing. He dropped to the ground and walked round the buggy and . went to the half-open entrance. Cautiously he edged his head round. There was no one in sight. There was a smell of frying food in the air that brought the saliva to Bond’s mouth. Dishes and pans clattered in the nearest building, about twenty yards away, and from one of the further Quonsets came the sound of a guitar and a man’s voice singing a calypso. Dogs started to bark half-heartedly and then were silent. The Dobermann Pinschers.

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