Bond took the short cut out of Canterbury by the Old Dover road and looked at his watch. It was six-thirty. Another fifteen minutes to Dover and then another ten minutes along the Deal road. Were there any other plans to be made? The double killing was out of his hands, thank heaven. ‘Murder and suicide while of unsound mind’ had been the coroner’s verdict. The girl had not even been called. He would stop for a drink at the ‘World Without Want’ and have a quick word with the innkeeper, The next day he would have to try and smell out the ‘something fishy” that Tallon had wanted to see the Minister about. No clue about that. Nothing had been found in Tallon’s room, which presumably he would now be taking over. Well, at any rate that would give him plenty of leisure to go through Tallon’s papers.
Bond concentrated on his driving as he coasted down into Dover. He kept left and was soon climbing out of the town again past the wonderful cardboard castle.
There was a patch of low cloud on top of the hill and a spit of rain on his windshield. There was a cold breeze coming in from the sea. The visibility was bad and he switched on his lights as he motored slowly along the coast-road, the ruby-spangled masts of the Swingate radar station rising like petrified Roman candles on his right.
The girl? He would have to be careful how he contacted her and careful not to upset her. He wondered if she would be any use to him. After a year on the site she would have had all the opportunities of a private secretary to ‘The Chief to get under the skin of the whole project-and of Drax. And she had a mind trained to his own particular craft. But he would have to be prepared for her to be suspicious of the new broom and perhaps resentful. He wondered what she was really like. The photograph on her record-sheet at the Yard had shown an attractive but rather severe girl and any hint of seductiveness had been abstracted by the cheerless jacket of her policewoman’s uniform.
Hair : Auburn. Eyes : Blue. Height: 5 ft 7. Weight: 9 stone. Hips: 38. Waist: 26. Bust: 38. Distinguishing marks : Mole on upper curvature of right breast.
Hm! thought Bond.
He put the statistics out of his mind as he came to the turning to the right. There was a signpost that said Kingsdown, and the lights of a small inn.
He pulled up and switched off the engine. Above his head a sign which said ‘World Without Want” in faded gold lettering groaned in the salt breeze that came over the cliffs half a mile away. He got out, stretched and walked over to the door of the public bar. It was locked. Closed for cleaning? He tried the next door, which opened and gave access to the small private bar. Behind the bar a stolid-looking man in shirt-sleeves was reading an evening paper.
He looked up as Bond entered, and put his paper down. “Evening, sir,” he said, evidently relieved to see a customer.
“Evening,” said Bond. “Large whisky and soda, please.”
He sat up at the bar and waited while the man poured two measures of Black and White and put the glass in front of him with a syphon of soda.
Bond filled the glass with soda and drank. “Bad business you had here last night,” he said, putting the glass down.
“Terrible, sir,” said the man. “And bad for trade. Would you be from the Press, sir? Had nothing but reporters and policemen in and out of the house all day long.”
“No,” said Bond. “I’ve come to take over the job of the fellow who got shot. Major Tallon. Was he one of your regular customers?”
“Never came here but the once, sir, and that was the end. of him. Now I’ve been put out of bounds for a week and the public has got to be painted from top to bottom. But I will say that Sir Hugo has been very decent about it. Sent me fifty quid this afternoon to pay for the damage. He must be a fine gentleman that. Made himself well liked in these parts. Always very generous and a cheery word for all.”