MOONRAKER BY IAN FLEMING

Krebs had been in the act of drinking a glass of red wine and the glass, frozen against his mouth, poured a thin trickle down his chin and thence on to his brown satin tie and yellow shirt.

Dr Walter had had his back to the door and it was not until he observed the unusual behaviour of the others, the bulging eyes, the gape of the mouths, and the blood-drained faces, that he whipped his head round towards the door. His reactions, thought Bond, were slower than the others, or else his nerves were steadier. “Ach so,” he said softly. “Die Engldnder.”

Drax was on his feet. “My dear chap,” he said thickly. “My dear chap. We were really very worried. Just wondering whether to send out a search party. Few minutes ago one of the guards came in and reported there seemed to have been a cliff-fall.” He came round towards them, his napkin in one hand and the fork still erect in the other.

With the movement the blood surged back into his face, which became first mottled and then its usual red. “You really might have let me know,” he spoke to the girl, anger rising in his voice. “Most extraordinary behaviour.”

“It was my fault,” said Bond, moving forward into the room so that he could keep them all in view. “The walk was longer than I expected. I thought we might get caught by the tide so we went on to St Margaret’s and had something to eat there and took a taxi. Miss Brand wanted to telephone but I thought we would be back before eight. You must put the blame on me. But please go ahead with your dinner. Perhaps I might join you for coffee and dessert. I expect Miss Brand would prefer to go to her room. She must be tired after her long day.”

Bond walked deliberately round the table and took the chair next to Krebs. Those pale eyes, he noticed, after the first shock, had been fixed firmly on his plate. As Bond came up behind him he was delighted to see a large mound of Elastoplast on the crown of Krebs’s head.

“Yes, go to bed, Miss Brand, I will talk to you in the morning,” said Drax testily. Gala obediently left the room and Drax went to his chair and sat heavily down.

“Most remarkable those cliffs,” said Bond blithely. “Quite awe-inspiring walking along wondering if they’re going to choose just that moment to collapse on one. Reminded me of Russian roulette. And yet one never reads of people being killed by cliffs falling on them. The odds against getting hurt must be terrific.” He paused. “By the way, what was that you were saying about a cliff-fall just now?”

There was a faint groan on Bond’s right, followed by a crash of glass and china as Krebs’s head fell forward on to the table.

Bond looked at him with polite curiosity.

“Walter,” said Drax sharply. “Can’t you see that Krebs is ill? Take the man out and put him to bed. And don’t be too soft with him. The man drinks too much. Hurry up.”

Walter, his face crumpled and angry, strode round the table and jerked Krebs’s head out of the debris. He took him by his coat collar and hauled him to his feet and away from his chair.

“Du Scheisskerl,” hissed Walter at the mottled, vacant face. “Marsch!” He turned him round and hustled him to the swing door into the pantry and rammed him through. There were muffled sounds of stumbling and cursing and then a door banged and there was silence.

“He must have had a heavy day,” said Bond looking at Drax.

The big man was sweating freely. He wiped his face with a circular sweep of his napkin. “Nonsense,” he said shortly. “He drinks.”

The butler, erect and unperturbed by the apparition of Krebs and Walter in his pantry, brought in the coffee. Bond took some and sipped it. He waited for the pantry door to close again. Another German, he thought. He’ll already have passed the news back to the barracks. Or perhaps all the team weren’t involved. Perhaps there was a team within a team. And if so, did Drax know about it? His behaviour when Bond and Gala had come through the door had been inconclusive. Had part of his astonishment been affronted dignity, the shock of a vain man whose programme had been upset by a chit of a secretary? He had certainly covered up well. And all the afternoon he had been down the shaft supervising the fuelling. Bond decided to probe a little.

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