Ian Fleming. The Spy Who Loved Me. James Bond #10

I picked it up and looked at the number. Forty, the last one along to the left. I said firmly, “The gentleman’s going to have Number 10, next to mine,” and walked over to the desk, forgetting that Sluggsy had all the other keys.

Sluggsy had followed me. He grinned. “No dice, baby. We don’t know nuthin’ about this guy. So Horror and me’s sleepin’ either side of you. Just to see you’re not disturbed. Rest of the keys is put away ready for the move. There’s just this Number 40 and nuthin’ else.” He turned to the Englishman. “Hey, limey. What’s your name?”

“Bond. James Bond.”

“That’s a pretty chump name. From England, huh?”

“That’s right Where’s the registry? I’ll spell it out for you.”

“Wise guy, huh? What’s your line of business?”

“Police.”

Sluggsy’s mouth opened. He ran his tongue over his lips. He turned and called over to Horror, who was sitting at his old table, “Hey, Horror. Guess what! This shamus is a limey dick! Whadya know about that? A gumshoe!”

Horror nodded. “Thought I smelled it. Who cares? We ain’t done nuthin’ wrong.”

“Yeh,” said Sluggsy eagerly, “that’s right too.” He turned to this Mr. Bond. “Now don’t you go listening to any crap from this little hustler. We’re from the insurance, see. Assessors, sort of. Work for Mr. Sanguinetti. He’s a big wheel in Troy. Owns this outfit. Well, there’d been complaints from the managers of some cash missing. Other things too. So we come up to make an investigation, sort of, and when we put the question to this little tramp she slams my friend with an ice-pick bang on the think-pot. See for yourself.” He waved in the direction of Horror. “Now how d’ya like that? So we was just restraining her, sort of, when you comes along.” He turned. “Ain’t that right, Horror?”

“That’s on the level. That’s how it was.”

I said angrily, “You know that’s a pack of lies.” I walked over to the back door and pointed at the bent frame and the splash of lead, “How did that bullet hole get there?”

Sluggsy laughed heartily. “Search me, sister.” He turned to Horror. “You seen any bullets flyin’ around?”

“No, I ain’t.” Horror’s voice was bored. He waved a languid hand toward the floor round the eating counter. “But I seen plenty hardware being slung at my pal by the lady.” His eyes swiveled slowly to me. “That right, lady? An’ there’s a big carving knife down there somewhere. Good mind to book you for assault, come the morning.”

“You do that!” I said hotly. “Just see where it’ll get you! You know perfectly well I was trying to defend myself. And as for that story about the money, that’s the first I’ve heard of it. And you know it.”

The Englishman broke in quietly. “Well, it seems I came along at the right time to keep the peace. Now, where’s that registry so that I can sign it?”

Sluggsy said curtly, “Register’s with de boss. No purpose in signin’ nuthin’. You ain’t payin’. The place is closed. You can have your bed on the house.”

“Well, thanks. That’s very kind of you.” James Bond turned to me. “Any chance of some eggs and bacon and coffee? All this talking’s made me hungry. I can cook it myself if the stuff’s there.”

“Oh, no.” I almost ran behind the counter. “I’d love to do it.”

“Thank you very much.” He turned his back on Sluggsy and sauntered over to the counter and hoisted himself onto a stool, putting his case on the next one.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Sluggsy turn on his heel and walk quickly over to the thin man and sit down and begin talking urgently.

James Bond glanced over his shoulder at them and then got down off his stool and took off his raincoat and hat and put them on top of his case and climbed back. He silently watched the men in the long mirror at the back of the counter, while I busied myself with the cooking things and took him in with quick glances.

He was about six feet tall, slim and fit-looking. The eyes in the lean, slightly tanned face were a very clear gray-blue and as they observed the men they were cold and watchful. The narrowed watchful eyes gave his good looks the dangerous, almost cruel quality that had frightened me when I had first set eyes on him, but now that I knew how he could smile, I thought his face only exciting, in a way that no man’s face had ever excited me before. He wore a soft-looking white silk shirt with a thin black knitted tie that hung down loosely without a pin, and his single-breasted suit was made of some dark blue lightweight material that may have been alpaca. The strong, rather good hands lay quietly on his crossed arms on the counter, and now he reached down to his hip pocket and took out a wide, thin gunmetal cigarette case and opened it.

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