Largo grinned his pleasure. “Yes, that is right, quite right. They are also on the Italian lakes. For passenger traffic. Now they are buying them in South America. A wonderful design for coastal waters. She only draws four feet when the hydrofoil is operating.”
“I suppose accommodation’s the problem?”
It is a weakness of all men, though not necessarily of all women, to love their material possessions. Largo said, with a trace of pricked vanity, “No, no. I think you will find that it is not so. You can spare five minutes? We are rather crowded at the moment. You have heard no doubt of our treasure hunt?” He looked sharply at them as a man would who expects ridicule. “But we will not discuss that now. No doubt you do not believe in these things. But my associates in the affair are all on board. With the crew, there are forty of us. You will see that we are not cramped. You would like?” Largo gestured to the door in the rear of the stateroom.
Felix Leiter showed reluctance. “You know, Mr. Bond, that we have that meeting with Mr. Harold Christie at five o’clock?”
Bond waved the objection aside. “Mr. Christie is a charming man.
I know he won’t mind if we are a few minutes late. I’d love to see over the ship if you’re sure you can spare the time, Mr. Largo.” Largo said, “Come. It will not take more than a few minutes. The excellent Mr. Christie is a friend of mine. He will understand.” He went to the door and held it open.
Bond had been expecting the politeness. It would interfere with
Leiter and his apparatus. He said firmly, “Please go first, Mr. Largo.
You will be able to tell us when to duck our heads.” With more affabilities, Largo led the way. Ships, however modern, are more or less the same—the corridors to port and starboard of the engine room, rows of cabin doors, which
Largo explained were occupied, the large communal bathrooms, the galley, where two cheerful-looking Italians in white smocks laughed at Largo’s jokes.about the food and seemed pleased with the visitors’ interest, the huge engine room where the chief engineer and his mate, Germans it seemed, gave enthusiastic information about the powerful twin Diesels and explained the hydraulics of the hydrofoil depressor —it was all exactly like visiting any other ship and saying the right things to the crew, using the right superlatives to the owner.
The short space of afterdeck was occupied by the little two-seater amphibian, painted dark blue and white to match the yacht, its wings now folded and its engine cowled against the sun, a big jolly-boat to hold about twenty men, and an electric derrick to hoist them in- and outboard. Bond, estimating the ship’s displacement and her freeboard, said casually, “And the hold? More cabin space?”
“Just storage. And the fuel tanks, of course. She is an expensive ship to run. We have to carry several tons. The ballast problem is important with these ships. When her bows come up, the fuel shifts aft. We have to have big lateral tanks to correct these things.” Talking fluently and expertly, Largo led them back up the starboard passageway. They were about to pass the radio room when Bond said, “You said you had ship-to-shore. What else do you carry? The usual Marconi short and long wave, I suppose. Could I have a look? Radio has always fascinated me.”
Largo said politely, “Some other time, if you don’t mind. I’m keeping the operator full time on met. reports. They’re rather important to us at the moment.”
“Of course.”
They climbed up into the enclosed dome of the bridge, where Largo briefly explained the controls and led them out on the narrow deck space. “So there you are,” said Largo. “The good ship Disco Volante —the Flying Saucer. And she really does fly, I can assure you. I hope you and Mr. Larkin will come for a short cruise one of these days. For the present”—he smiled with a hint of a secret shared— “as you may have heard, we are rather busy.”
“Very exciting, this treasure business. Do you think you’ve got a good chance?”