iam fleming.for your eyes only-第24部分

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d；　could　not　have　the　girl；　it　was　at　least　something　that　she　was　in　good　hands。　But　now？　Bond　glanced　across　the　room。　The　couple　were　laughing　about　something。　The　man　patted　her　cheek　and　got　up　and　went　to　the　door　marked　UFFICIO　and　went　through　and　shut　the　door。　So　this　was　the　man　who　ran　the　great　pipeline　into　England。　The　man　with　M's　price　of　a　hundred　thousand　pounds　on　his　head。　The　man　Kristatos　wanted　Bond　to　kill。　Well；　he　had　better　get　on　with　the　job。　Bond　stared　rudely　across　the　room　at　the　girl。　When　she　lifted　her　head　and　looked　at　him；　he　smiled　at　her。　Her　eyes　swept　past　him；　but　there　was　a　half　smile；　as　if　for　herself；　on　her　lips；　and　when　she　took　a　cigarette　out　of　her　case　and　lit　it　and　blew　the　smoke　straight　up　towards　the　ceiling　there　was　an　offering　of　the　throat　and　the　profile　that　Bond　knew　were　for　him。
　It　was　nearing　the　time　for　the　after…cinema　trade。　The　ma？tre　d'h？tel　was　supervising　the　clearing　of　the　unoccupied　tables　and　the　setting　up　of　new　ones。　There　was　the　usual　bustle　and　slapping　of　napkins　across　chair…seats　and　tinkle　of　glass　and　cutlery　being　laid。　Vaguely　Bond　noticed　the　spare　chair　at　his　table　being　whisked　away　to　help　build　up　a　nearby　table　for　six。　He　began　asking　Kristatos　specific　questions　…　the　personal　habits　of　Enrico　Colombo；　where　he　lived；　the　address　of　his　firm　in　Milan；　what　other　business　interests　he　had。　He　did　not　notice　the　casual　progress　of　the　spare　chair　from　its　fresh　table　to　another；　and　then　to　another；　and　finally　through　the　door　marked　UFFICIO。　There　was　no　reason　why　he　should。
　
　When　the　chair　was　brought　into　his　office；　Enrico　Colombo　waved　the　ma？tre　d'h？tel　away　and　locked　the　door　behind　him。　Then　he　went　to　the　chair　and　lifted　off　the　squab　cushion　and　put　it　on　his　desk。　He　unzipped　one　side　of　the　cushion　and　withdrew　a　Grundig　tape…recorder；　stopped　the　machine；　ran　the　tape　back；　took　it　off　the　recorder　and　put　it　on　a　playback　and　adjusted　the　speed　and　volume。　Then　he　sat　down　at　his　desk　and　lit　a　cigarette　and　listened；　occasionally　making　further　adjustments　and　occasionally　repeating　passages。　At　the　end；　when　Bond's　tinny　voice　said　〃She　is；　is　she？〃　and　there　was　a　long　silence　interspersed　with　background　noises　from　the　restaurant；　Enrico　Colombo　switched　off　the　machine　and　sat　looking　at　it。　He　looked　at　it　for　a　full　minute。　His　face　showed　nothing　but　acute　concentration　on　his　thoughts。　Then　he　looked　away　from　the　machine　and　into　nothing　and　said　softly；　out　loud：　〃Son…a…beech。〃　He　got　slowly　to　his　feet　and　went　to　the　door　and　unlocked　it。　He　looked　back　once　more　at　the　Grundig；　said　〃Son…a…beech〃　again　with　more　emphasis　and　went　out　and　back　to　his　table。
　Enrico　Colombo　spoke　swiftly　and　urgently　to　the　girl。　She　nodded　and　glanced　across　the　room　at　Bond。　He　and　Kristatos　were　getting　up　from　the　table。　She　said　to　Colombo　in　a　low；　angry　voice：　〃You　are　a　disgusting　man。　Everybody　said　so　and　warned　me　against　you。　They　were　right。　Just　because　you　give　me　dinner　in　your　lousy　restaurant　you　think　you　have　the　right　to　insult　me　with　your　filthy　propositions〃　…　　the　girl's　voice　had　got　louder。　Now　she　had　snatched　up　her　handbag　and　had　got　to　her　feet。　She　stood　beside　the　table　directly　in　the　line　of　Bond's　approach　on　his　way　to　the　exit。
　Enrico　Colombo's　face　was　black　with　rage。　Now　he；　too；　was　on　his　feet。　〃You　goddam　Austrian　beech　〃
　〃Don't　dare　insult　my　country；　you　Italian　toad。〃　She　reached　for　a　half…full　glass　of　wine　and　hurled　it　accurately　in　the　man's　face。　When　he　came　at　her　it　was　easy　for　her　to　back　the　few　steps　into　Bond　who　was　standing　with　Kristatos　politely　waiting　to　get　by。　Enrico　Colombo　stood　panting；　wiping　the　wine　off　his　face　with　a　napkin。　He　said　furiously　to　the　girl：　〃Don't　ever　show　your　face　inside　my　restaurant　again。〃　He　made　the　gesture　of　spitting　on　the　floor　between　them；　turned　and　strode　off　through　the　door　marked　UFFICIO。
　The　ma？tre　d'h？tel　had　hurried　up。　Everyone　in　the　restaurant　had　stopped　eating。　Bond　took　the　girl　by　the　elbow。　〃May　I　help　you　find　a　taxi？〃
　She　jerked　herself　free。　She　said；　still　angry：　〃All　men　are　pigs。〃　She　remembered　her　manners。　She　said　stiffly：　〃You　are　very　kind。〃　She　moved　haughtily　towards　the　door　with　the　men　in　her　wake。
　There　was　a　buzz　in　the　restaurant　and　a　renewed　clatter　of　knives　and　forks。　Everyone　was　delighted　with　the　scene。　The　ma？tre　d'h？tel；　looking　solemn；　held　open　the　door。　He　said　to　Bond：　〃I　apologize；　Monsieur。　And　you　are　very　kind　to　be　of　assistance。〃　A　cruising　taxi　slowed。　He　beckoned　it　to　the　pavement　and　held　open　the　door。
　The　girl　got　in。　Bond　firmly　followed　and　closed　the　door。　He　said　to　Kristatos　through　the　window：　〃I'll　telephone　you　in　the　morning。　All　right？〃　Without　waiting　for　the　man's　reply　he　sat　back　in　the　seat。　The　girl　had　drawn　herself　away　into　the　farthest　corner。　Bond　said：　〃Where　shall　I　tell　him？〃
　〃Hotel　Ambassadori。〃
　They　drove　a　short　way　in　silence。　Bond　said：　〃Would　you　like　to　go　somewhere　first　for　a　drink？〃
　〃No　thank　you。〃　She　hesitated。　〃You　are　very　kind　but　tonight　I　am　tired。〃
　〃Perhaps　another　night。〃
　〃Perhaps；　but　I　go　to　Venice　tomorrow。〃
　〃I　shall　also　be　there。　Will　you　have　dinner　with　me　tomorrow　night？〃
　The　girl　smiled。　She　said：　〃I　thought　Englishmen　were　supposed　to　be　shy。　You　are　English；　aren't　you？　What　is　your　name？　What　do　you　do？〃
　〃Yes；　I'm　English　…　My　name's　Bond　…　James　Bond。　I　write　books　…　adventure　stories。　I'm　writing　one　now　about　drug　smuggling。　It's　set　in　Rome　and　Venice。　The　trouble　is　that　I　don't　know　enough　about　the　trade。　I　am　going　round　picking　up　stories　about　it。　Do　you　know　any？〃
　〃So　that　is　why　you　were　having　dinner　with　that　Kristatos。　I　know　of　him。　He　has　a　bad　reputation。　No。　I　don't　know　any　stories。　I　only　know　what　everybody　knows。〃
　Bond　said　enthusiastically：　〃But　that's　exactly　what　I　want。　When　I　said　'stories'　I　didn't　mean　fiction。　I　meant　the　sort　of　high…level　gossip　that's　probably　pretty　near　the　truth。　That　sort　of　thing's　worth　diamonds　to　a　writer。〃
　She　laughed。　〃You　mean　that　。　。　。　diamonds？〃
　Bond　said：　〃Well；　I　don't　earn　all　that　as　a　writer；　but　I've　already　sold　an　option　on　this　story　for　a　film；　and　if　I　can　make　it　authentic　enough　I　dare　say　they'll　actually　buy　the　film。〃　He　reached　out　and　put　his　hand　over　hers　in　her　lap。　She　did　not　take　her　hand　away。　〃Yes；　diamonds。　A　diamond　clip　from　Van　Cleef。　Is　it　a　deal？〃
　Now　she　took　her　hand　away。　They　were　arriving　at　the　Ambassadori。　She　picked　up　her　bag　from　the　seat　beside　her。　She　turned　on　the　seat　so　that　she　faced　him。　The　missionaire　opened　the　door　and　the　light　from　the　street　turned　her　eyes　into　stars。　She　examined　his　face　with　a　certain　seriousness。　She　said：　〃All　men　are　pigs；　but　some　are　lesser　pigs　than　others。　All　right。　I　will　meet　you。　But　not　for　dinner。　What　I　may　tell　you　is　not　for　public　places。　I　bathe　every　afternoon　at　the　Lido。　But　not　at　the　fashionable　plage。　I　bathe　at　the　Bagni　Alberoni；　where　the　English　poet　Byron　used　to　ride　his　horse。　It　is　at　the　tip　of　the　peninsula。　The　Vaporetto　will　take　you　there。　You　will　find　me　there　the　day　after　tomorrow　…　at　three　in　the　afternoon。　I　shall　be　getting　my　last　sunburn　before　the　winter。　Among　the　sand…dunes。　You　will　see　a　pale　yellow　umbrella。　Underneath　it　will　be　me。〃　She　smiled。　〃Knock　on　the　umbrella　and　ask　for　Fraulein　Lisl　Baum。〃
　She　got　out　of　the　taxi。　Bond　followed。　She　held　out　her　hand。　〃Thank　you　for　ing　to　my　rescue。　Goodnight。〃
　Bond　said：　〃Three　o'clock　then。　I　shall　be　there。　Goodnight。〃
　She　turned　and　walked　up　the　curved　steps　of　the　hotel。　Bond　looked　after　her　thoughtfully；　and　then　turned　and　got　back　into　the　taxi　and　told　the　man　to　take　him　to　the　Nazionale。　He　sat　back　and　watched　the　neon　signs　ribbon　past　the　window。　Things；　including　the　taxi；　were　going　almost　too　fast　for　fort。　The　only　one　over　which　he　had　any　control　was　the　taxi。　He　leant　forward　and　told　the　man　to　drive　more　slowly。
　
　The　best　train　from　Rome　to　Venice　is　the　Laguna　express　that　leaves　every　day　at　midday。　Bond；　after　a　morning　that　was　chiefly　occupied　with　difficult　talks　with　his　London　Headquarters　on　Station　I's　scrambler　caught　it　by　the　skin　of　his　teeth。　The　Laguna　is　a　smart；　streamlined　affair　that　looks　and　sounds　more　luxurious　than　it　is。　The　seats　are　made　for　small　Italians　and　the　restaurant　car　staff　suffer　from　the　disease　that　afflicts　their　brethren　in　the　great　trains　all　over　the　world　…　a　genuine　loathing　for　the　modern　traveller　and　particularly　for　the　foreigner。　Bond　had　a　gangway　seat　over　the　axle　in　the　rear　aluminium　coach。　If　the　seven　heavens　had　been　flowing　by　outside　the　window　he　would　not　have　cared。　He　kept　his　eyes　inside　the　train；　read　a　jerking　book；　spilled　Chianti　over　the　tablecloth　and　shifted　his　long；　aching　legs　and　cursed　the　Ferrovie　Italiane　dello　Stato。
　But　at　last　there　was　Mestre　and　the　dead　straight　finger　of　rail　across　the　eighteenth　century　aquatint　into　Venice。　Then　came　the　unfailing　shock　of　the　beauty　that　never　betrays　and　the　soft　swaying　progress　down　the　Grand　Canal　into　a　blood…red　sunset；　and　t