THUNDERBALL: by Ian Fleming

Bond had interrupted at this point. “Might I ask if the radar screen is manned round the clock? My impression is that the airport is very busy during the day, but that there is very little traffic at night. Would it be possible that the radar is not so closely watched at night?”

The Commissioner of Police, a pleasant, very military-looking man in his forties, the silver buttons and insignia on whose dark blue uniform glittered as they can only when spit and polish is a main activity and there are plenty of batmen around, said judiciously, “I think the Commander has a point there, sir. The airport commandant admits that things do slacken off a bit when there’s nothing scheduled. He hasn’t got all that amount of staff and of course most of them are locals, sir. Good men, but hardly up to London Airport standards. And the radar at the met. station is only a G.C.A. set with a low horizon and range—mostly used for shipping.”

“Quite, quite.” The Deputy Governor didn’t want to be dragged into a discussion about radar sets or the merits of Nassavian labor. “There’s certainly a point there. No doubt Commander Bond will be making his own inquiries. Now there was a request from the Secretary of State”—the title rolled sonorously forth—“for details and comments on recent arrivals in the island, suspicious characters, and so forth. Mr. Pitman?”

The Chief of Immigration and Customs was a sleek Nassavian with quick brown eyes and an ingratiating manner. He smiled pleasantly. Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. The usual mixture of tourists and businessmen and local people coming home. We were asked to have details for the past two weeks, sir.” He touched the brief case on his lap. “I have all the immigration forms here, sir. Perhaps Commander Bond would care to go through them with me.” The brown eyes flicked toward Bond and away. “All the big hotels have house detectives. I could probably get him further details on any particular name. All Passports were checked in the normal manner. There were no irregularities and none of these people was on our Wanted List.”

Bond said, “Might I ask a question?”

The Deputy Governor nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. Of course. Anything you like. We’re all here to help.”

“I’m looking for a group of men. Probably ten or more. They probably stick together a good deal. Might be as many as twenty or thirty. I guess they would be Europeans. They probably have a ship or a plane. They may have been here for months or only a few days. I gather you have plenty of conventions coming to Nassau—salesmen, tourist associations, religious groups, heaven knows what all. Apparently they take a block of rooms in some hotel and hold meetings and so forth for a week or so. Is there anything like that going on at the moment?”

“Mr. Pitman?”

“Well, of course we do have plenty of those sort of gatherings. Very welcome to the Tourist Board.” The Chief of Immigration smiled conspiratorially at Bond as if he had just given away a closely guarded secret. “But in the last two weeks we’ve only had a Moral Rearmament Group at the Emerald Wave and the Tiptop Biscuit people at the Royal Bahamian. They’ve gone now. Quite the usual convention pattern. All very respectable.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Pitman. The people I’m looking for, the people who may have arranged to steal this plane, will certainly take pains to look respectable and behave in a respectable fashion. We’re not looking for a bunch of flashy crooks. We think these must be very big people indeed. Now, is there anything like that on the island, a group of people like that?”

“Well”—the Chief of Immigration smiled broadly—“of course we’ve got our annual treasure hunt going on.”

The Deputy Governor barked a quick, deprecating laugh. “Now, steady on, Mr. Pitman. Surely we don’t want them to get mixed up in all this, or heaven knows where we shall end. I can’t believe Commander Bond wants to bother his head over a lot of rich beachcombers.”

The Commissioner of Police said doubtfully, “The only thing is, sir—they do have a yacht, and a small plane for the matter of that. And I did hear that a lot of shareholders in the swindle had come in lately. Those points do tally with what the Commander was asking about. I admit it’s ridiculous, but this man Largo’s respectable enough for Commander Bond’s requirements and his men have never once given us trouble. Unusual to have not even one case of drunkenness in a ship’s crew in nearly six months.”

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