ian fleming.casino royale-第18部分

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　'Put　your　guns　away　and　get　him　out；'　he　ordered　brusquely。　'I'll　keep　you　covered。　Be　careful　of　him。　I　don't　want　a　corpse。　And　hurry　up；　it's　getting　light。'
　The　two　men　got　down　on　their　knees。　One　of　them　took　out　a　long　knife　and　cut　some　of　the　fabric　away　from　the　side　of　the　convertible　hood　and　took　hold　of　Bond's　shoulders。　He　was　unconscious　and　immovable。　The　other　squeezed　between　the　upturned　car　and　the　bank　and　forced　his　way　through　the　crumpled　window…frame。　He　eased　Bond's　legs；　pinned　between　the　steering…wheel　and　the　fabric　roof　of　the　car。　Then　they　inched　him　out　through　a　hole　in　the　hood。
　They　were　sweating　and　filthy　with　dust　and　oil　by　the　time　they　had　him　lying　in　the　road。
　The　thin　man　felt　his　heart　and　then　slapped　his　face　hard　on　either　side。　Bond　grunted　and　moved　a　hand。　The　thin　man　slapped　him　again。
　'That's　enough；'　said　Le　Chiffre。　'Tie　his　arms　and　put　him　in　the　car。　Here；'　he　threw　a　roll　of　flex　to　the　man。　'Empty　his　pockets　first　and　give　me　his　gun。　He　may　have　got　some　other　weapons；　but　we　can　get　them　later。'
　He　took　the　objects　the　thin　man　handed　him　and　stuffed　them　and　Bond's　Beretta　into　his　wide　pockets　without　examining　them。　He　left　the　men　to　it　and　walked　back　to　the　car。　His　face　showed　neither　pleasure　nor　excitement。
　It　was　the　sharp　bite　of　the　wire　flex　into　his　wrists　that　brought　Bond　to　himself。　He　was　aching　all　over　as　if　he　had　been　thrashed　with　a　wooden　club；　but　when　he　was　yanked　to　his　feet　and　pushed　towards　the　narrow　side…road　where　the　engine　of　the　Citro？n　was　already　running　softly；　he　found　that　no　bones　were　broken。　But　he　felt　in　no　mood　for　desperate　attempts　to　escape　and　allowed　himself　to　be　dragged　into　the　back　seat　of　the　car　without　resisting。
　He　felt　thoroughly　dispirited　and　weak　in　resolve　as　well　as　in　his　body。　He　had　had　to　take　too　much　in　the　past　twenty…four　hours　and　now　this　last　stroke　by　the　enemy　seemed　almost　too　final。　This　time　there　could　be　no　miracles。　No　one　knew　where　he　was　and　no　one　would　miss　him　until　well　on　into　the　morning。　The　wreck　of　his　car　would　be　found　before　very　long；　but　it　would　take　hours　to　trace　the　ownership　to　him。
　And　Vesper。　He　looked　to　the　right；　past　the　thin　man　who　was　lying　back　with　his　eyes　closed。　His　first　reaction　was　one　of　scorn。　Damn　fool　girl　getting　herself　trussed　up　like　a　chicken；　having　her　skirt　pulled　over　her　head　as　if　the　whole　of　this　business　was　some　kind　of　dormitory　rag。　But　then　he　felt　sorry　for　her。　Her　naked　legs　looked　so　childlike　and　defenseless。
　'Vesper；'　he　said　softly。
　There　was　no　answer　from　the　bundle　in　the　corner　and　Bond　suddenly　had　a　chill　feeling；　but　then　she　stirred　slightly。
　At　the　same　time　the　thin　man　caught　him　a　hard　backhanded　blow　over　the　heart。
　'Silence。'
　Bond　doubled　over　with　the　pain　and　to　shield　himself　from　another　blow；　only　to　get　a　rabbit　punch　on　the　back　of　the　neck　which　made　him　arch　back　again；　the　breath　whistling　through　his　teeth。
　The　thin　man　had　hit　him　a　hard　professional　cutting　blow　with　the　edge　of　the　hand。　There　was　something　rather　deadly　about　his　accuracy　and　lack　of　effort。　He　was　now　again　lying　back；　his　eyes　closed。　He　was　a　man　to　make　you　afraid；　an　evil　man。　Bond　hoped　he　might　get　a　chance　of　killing　him。
　Suddenly　the　boot　of　the　car　was　thrown　open　and　there　was　a　clanking　crash。　Bond　guessed　that　they　had　been　waiting　for　the　third　man　to　retrieve　the　carpet　of　spiked　chain…mail。　He　assumed　it　must　be　an　adaptation　of　the　nail…studded　devices　used　by　the　Resistance　against　German　staff…cars。
　Again　he　reflected　on　the　efficiency　of　these　people　and　the　ingenuity　of　the　equipment　they　used。　Had　M　underestimated　their　resourcefulness？　He　stifled　a　desire　to　place　the　blame　on　London。　It　was　he　who　should　have　known；　he　who　should　have　been　warned　by　small　signs　and　taken　infinitely　more　precautions。　He　squirmed　as　he　thought　of　himself　washing　down　champagne　in　the　Roi　Galant　while　the　enemy　was　busy　preparing　his　counter…stroke。　He　cursed　himself　and　cursed　the　hubris　which　had　made　him　so　sure　the　battle　was　won　and　the　enemy　in　flight。
　All　this　time　Le　Chiffre　had　said　nothing。　Directly　the　boot　was　shut；　the　third　man；　whom　Bond　at　once　recognized；　climbed　in　beside　him　and　Le　Chiffre　reversed　furiously　back　on　to　the　main　road。　Then　he　banged　the　gear　lever　through　the　gate　and　was　soon　doing　seventy　on　down　the　coast。
　By　now　it　was　dawn　…　about　five　o'clock；　Bond　guessed　…　and　he　reflected　that　a　mile　or　two　on　was　the　turning　to　Le　Chiffre's　villa。　He　had　not　thought　that　they　would　take　Vesper　there。　Now　that　he　realized　that　Vesper　had　only　been　a　sprat　to　catch　a　mackerel　the　whole　picture　became　clear。
　It　was　an　extremely　unpleasant　picture。　For　the　first　time　since　his　capture；　fear　came　to　Bond　and　crawled　up　his　spine。
　Ten　minutes　later　the　Citro？n　lurched　to　the　left；　ran　on　a　hundred　yards　up　a　small　side…road　partly　overgrown　with　grass　and　then　between　a　pair　of　dilapidated　stucco　pillars　into　an　unkempt　forecourt　surrounded　by　a　high　wall。　They　drew　up　in　front　of　a　peeling　white　door。　Above　a　rusty　bell…push　in　the　door…frame；　small　zinc　letters　on　a　wooden　base　spelled　out　'Les　Noctambules'　and；　underneath；　'Sonnez　SVP'。
　From　what　Bond　could　see　of　the　cement　frontage；　the　villa　was　typical　of　the　French　seaside　style。　He　could　imagine　the　dead　blue…bottles　being　hastily　swept　out　for　the　summer　let　and　the　stale　rooms　briefly　aired　by　a　cleaning　woman　sent　by　the　estate　agent　in　Royale。　Every　five　years　one　coat　of　whitewash　would　be　slapped　over　the　rooms　and　the　outside　woodwork；　and　for　a　few　weeks　the　villa　would　present　a　smiling　front　to　the　world。　Then　the　winter　rains　would　get　to　work；　and　the　imprisoned　flies；　and　quickly　the　villa　would　take　on　again　its　abandoned　look。
　But；　Bond　reflected；　it　would　admirably　serve　Le　Chiffre's　purpose　this　morning；　if　he　was　right　in　assuming　what　that　was　to　be。　They　had　passed　no　other　house　since　his　capture　and　from　his　reconnaissance　of　the　day　before　he　knew　there　was　only　an　occasional　farm　for　several　miles　to　the　south。
　As　he　was　urged　out　of　the　car　with　a　sharp　crack　in　the　ribs　from　the　thin　man's　elbow；　he　knew　that　Le　Chiffre　could　have　them　both　to　himself；　undisturbed；　for　several　hours。　Again　his　skin　crawled。
　Le　Chiffre　opened　the　door　with　a　key　and　disappeared　inside。　Vesper；　looking　incredibly　indecent　in　the　early　light　of　day；　was　pushed　in　after　him　with　a　torrent　of　lewd　French　from　the　man　whom　Bond　knew　to　himself　as　'the　Corsican'。　Bond　followed　without　giving　the　thin　man　a　chance　to　urge　him。
　The　key　of　the　front　door　turned　in　the　lock。
　Le　Chiffre　was　standing　in　the　doorway　of　a　room　on　the　right。　He　crooked　a　finger　at　Bond　in　a　silent；　spidery　summons。
　Vesper　was　being　led　down　a　passage　towards　the　back　of　the　house。　Bond　suddenly　decided。
　With　a　wild　backward　kick　which　connected　with　the　thin　man's　shins　and　brought　a　whistle　of　pain　from　him　he　hurled　himself　down　the　passage　after　her。　With　only　his　feet　as　weapons；　there　was　no　plan　in　his　mind　except　to　do　as　much　damage　as　possible　to　the　two　gunmen　and　be　able　to　exchange　a　few　hurried　words　with　the　girl。　No　other　plan　was　possible。　He　just　wanted　to　tell　her　not　to　give　in。
　As　the　Corsican　turned　at　the　motion　Bond　was　on　him　and　his　right　shoe　was　launched　in　a　flying　kick　at　the　other　man's　groin。
　Like　lightning　the　Corsican　slammed　himself　back　against　the　wall　of　the　passage　and；　as　Bond's　foot　whistled　past　his　hip；　he　very　quickly；　but　somehow　delicately；　shot　out　his　left　hand；　caught　Bond's　shoe　at　the　top　of　its　arch　and　twisted　it　sharply。
　pletely　off　balance；　Bond's　other　foot　left　the　ground。　In　the　air　his　whole　body　turned　and　with　the　momentum　of　his　rush　behind　it　crashed　sideways　and　down　on　to　the　floor。
　For　a　moment　he　lay　there；　all　the　breath　knocked　out　of　him。　Then　the　thin　man　came　and　hauled　him　up　against　the　wall　by　his　collar。　He　had　a　gun　in　his　hand。　He　looked　Bond　inquisitively　in　the　eyes。　Then　unhurriedly　he　bent　down　and　swiped　the　barrel　viciously　across　Bond's　shins。　Bond　grunted　and　caved　at　the　knees。
　'If　there　is　a　next　time；　it　will　be　across　your　teeth；'　said　the　thin　man　in　bad　French。
　A　door　slammed。　Vesper　and　the　Corsican　had　disappeared。　Bond　turned　his　head　to　the　right。　Le　Chiffre　had　moved　a　few　feet　out　into　the　passage。　He　lifted　his　finger　and　crooked　it　again。　Then　for　the　first　time　he　spoke。
　'e；　my　dear　friend。　We　are　wasting　our　time。'
　He　spoke　in　English　with　no　accent。　His　voice　was　low　and　soft　and　unhurried。　He　showed　no　emotion。　He　might　have　been　a　doctor　summoning　the　next　patient　from　the　waiting…room；　a　hysterical　patient　who　had　been　expostulating　feebly　with　a　nurse。
　Bond　again　felt　puny　and　impotent。　Nobody　but　an　expert　in　ju…jitsu　could　have　handled　him　with　the　Corsican's　economy　and　lack　of　fuss。　The　cold　precision　with　which　the　thin　man　had　paid　him　back　in　his　own　coin　had　been　equally　unhurried；　even　artistic。
　Almost　docilely　Bond　walked　back　down　the　passage。
　He　had　nothing　but　a　few　more　bruises　to　show　for　his　clumsy　gesture　of　resistance　to　these