johngardner.rollofhonor-第4部分

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ot　for　the　first　time；　Bond　had　been　given　another　life；　a　double　identity。　　But　of　the　many　dubious　parts　he　had　played　for　his　country；　this　was　to　appear　more　than　any　as　a　role　of　dishonour。
　
　PROUD　PERCY
　
　BOND　PARTICULARLY　enjoyed　the　drive　through　France；　down　to　the　South；　for　it　was　the　first　time　he　had　been　able　to　let　the　huge　Mulsanne　Turbo　off　the　leash。　　The　car　seemed　to　revel　in　the　business　of　doing　its　job　with　perfection。　　Bentley　had　certainly　produced　another　true　thoroughbred　from　their　stable。　　The　Mulsanne　pushed　its　long；　elegant　snout　forward；　and　then；　like　some　runner　in　peak　condition；　gathered　itself　together；　effortlessly　reaching　well　in　excess　of　the　100　miles　per　hour　mark　and　eating　up　road　without　fuss　or　noise；　as　if　it　were　floating　over　the　tarmac　on　a　silent　cushion　of　air。
　Bond　had　left　London　early　on　the　Monday　morning；　and　he　had　been　told　His　Proud　would　be　in　the　Casino　each　evening；　from　the　Tuesday；　between　ten　and　eleven。
　At　a　little　after　six　on　Tuesday　the　Mulsanne　slid　into　Monaco's　Place　Casino；　and　up　to　the　entrance　of　the　Hotel　de　Paris。　　It　was　a　splendid；　clear　spring　evening；　with　hardly　a　breath　of　wind　to　stir　the　palm　trees　in　the　gardens　which　front　the　Grand　Casino。　　As　he　switched　off　the　ignition；　Bond　checked　that　the　small　hidden　weapon　partment　below　the　polished　wooden　dashboard　to　the　right　of　the　wheel；　was　locked　and　that　the　safety　key　was　turned　on　the　powerful　Super　1000　telephone　housed　between　the　front　seats。　　Stepping　out；　he　glanced　around　the　Place；　nostrils　filling　with　a　mixture　of　mimosa；　heavy　French　tobacco　and　the　soft　sea　air。
　Monte　Carlo；　like　the　neighbouring　cities　and　towns　along　the　Cote　d'Azur；　had　a　smell　that　was　all　its　own。
　Bond　reckoned　a　fortune　could　be　made　if　someone　could　only　bottle　it；　to　provide　nostalgic　memories　for　those　who　had　known　the　principality　in　its　heyday。　　For　the　one…time　gambling　legend　of　Europe　was　no　longer　the　great　romantic　fairytale　place　remembered　by　those　who　had　won；　and　lost；　fortunes　and　hearts　there。　　The　package　holiday；　the　weekend　break　and　the　charter　flight　had　put　an　end　to　that。
　Monaco　managed　to　keep　up　its　veneer　of　sophistication　only　through　the　presence　of　its　royal　family　and　the　high　prices　speculators；　hoteliers；　restaurateurs　and　shopkeepers　charged。　　Even　those　had　not　created　a　safe　buffer　against　some　of　the　more　garish　encroachments　of　the　1980s。　On　his　last　visit；　Bond　had　been　horrified　to　find　one…armed　bandits　installed　in　the　exclusive　Salles　Pnve'es　of　the　Casino。
　Now　he　would　not　be　surprised　if　there　were　space　invader　games　there　as　well。
　His　room　faced　the　sea　and；　before　taking　a　shower　and　preparing　for　the　evening；　he　stood　on　the　balcony；　looking　out　at　the　twinkling　lights　and　sipping　a　martini。
　For　a　moment　he　wondered　if　it　were　possible　to　recapture　the　sounds　and　laughter　of　former；　brighter　days。
　After　a　modest　dinner　…　chilled　consomme'；　grilled　sole；　and　a　mousse　all　chocolate　…　he　went　down　to　check　the　car；　then　walked　over　to　the　Casino；　paid　the　entrance　fee　to　admit　him　to　the　fabled　Salles　Privees　and　bought　50；000　francs'　worth　of　chips　…　around　？4；000　sterling。
　There　was　play　at　only　one　of　the　tables。　　As　Bond　crossed　the　floor；　he　saw　Persephone　Proud　for　the　first　time。　　M　had　understated　the　case　when　he　said　even　her　husband　would　not　recognise　her。　　Bond；　who　had　hardly　credited　the　〃after'　photograph；　as　M　had　called　it；　found　it　difficult　to　believe　that　this　woman；　undeniably　the　one　from　that　photograph；　could　ever　have　been　either　plump　or　mousy。
　She　stood；　bare…shouldered；　her　back　against　the　bar；　a　tall；　almost　willowy　figure；　head　tilted；　small　breasts　thrusting　into　relief　against　the　flimsy　material　of　her　blue　dress。　　Long　ash…blonde　hair　just　touched　the　tanned　skin　at　the　nape　of　her　neck；　and　her　light　blue…grey　eyes；　twinkling　with　amusement；　were　intent　on　the　play　at　the　table。　　A　half…smile　hovered　around　her　mouth；　full　lips　having　replaced　the　original；　while　the　angular　nose　was　now　almost　a　snub。
　Fascinating；　Bond　thought。　　Fascinating　to　see　what　strict　diet；　a　nose　job；　contact　lenses　and　a　dedicated　course　of　beauty　treatment　could　acplish。
　He　did　not　pause　on　his　way　to　the　table；　where　he　took　a　seat；　acknowledging　the　croupier；　and　studying　the　game　for　three　turns　before　dropping　25；000　francs　on　Impair。
　The　croupier　called　an　almost　ritual　〃Faites　vosjeux'。　　All　eyes　watched；　as　the　little　ball　bounced　into　the　spinning　wheel。
　〃Rien　the　va　plus。〃　Bond　glanced　at　the　three　other　players　…　a　smooth；　American…looking　man；　late　forties；　blue…jowled　and　with　the　steely　look　of　a　professional　gambler；　a　woman　in　her　early　seventies；　he　judged；　dressed　in　last　season's　fashions；　and　a　heavy…set　Chinese　whose　face　would　never　give　away　his　age。　　Everyone　followed　the　wheel　now　as　the　ball　bounced　twice　and　settled　into　a　slot。　　〃Dix…sept；　rouge；　impair　et　manque；'　the　croupier　intoned　in　that　particular　plainchant　of　the　tables。　　Seventeen；　red；　odd　and　low。
　The　rake　swung　efficiently　over　the　green　baize；　taking　in　the　house　winnings；　and　pushing　out　plaques　to　the　winners；　including　Bond；　whose　Impair　bet　had　netted　him　even　money。　　At　the　call；　he　again　placed　25；000　on　Impair。　　Once　more　he　won；　eleven　ing　up。　　Impair　or　a　third　time；　and　the　ball　rolled　into　fifteen。　　In　three　turns　of　the　wheel；　Bond　had　made　75；000　francs。　　He　was　playing　the　easy　way；　high　stakes　for　even　returns。
　The　other　players　were　betting　plex　patterns　…　A　Cheval；　Carr6；　and　Colonne　…　which　made　for　higher　odds。　　Bond　pushed　the　whole　of　his　75；000　francs　on　to　Pair　and　fourteen　…　red　came　up。　　Stake　plus　75；000　francs。　　Time　to　call　it　a　night。　　He　flipped　a　5；000　franc　chip　across　the　table；　muttering　〃Pour　les　empThy6s；'　and　pushed　back　the　chair。
　There　was　a　little　squeal　as　it　touched　the　girl's　legs；　and　Bond　felt　liquid　run　down　his　left　cheek　where　her　drink　spilled。　　It　was　a　natural　enough　incident；　for　the　Englishman　had　not　sensed　her　standing　behind　him。
　The　move　had　been　carefully　prearranged　far　away　in　London；　in　the　safe　flat　near　St。　Martin's　Lane。
　〃I'm　terribly　sorry　。　　。　　。　　Pardon；　madame；　je　〃It's　okay；　I　speak　English。〃　The　voice　was　pitched　low；　the　accent　clear　and　without　nasality。　　〃It　was　my　fault；　I　shouldn't　have　been　standing　so　close。
　The　game　was　very。
　〃Well；　at　least　let　me　get　you　a　fresh　drink。
　Bond　finished　drying　his　face　and　took　her　elbow；　steering　her　towards　the　small　bar。　　One　of　the　dinnerjacketed'　security　men　smiled　as　he　watched　them　go。
　Hadn't　he　seen　women　pick　up　men　like　this　many　times？
　No　harm　in　it；　as　long　as　the　women　were　straight；　and　this　one　was　an　American　visitor。　　Silently　he　wished　them　luck。
　〃Mr。？〃　　。　　。　　？〃　She　raised　her　champagne　cocktail　to　his。
　〃James　Bond。　　My　friends　call　me　James。
　〃And　mine　call　me　Percy。　　Persephone　Proud's　too　much　of　a　mouthful。〃　Bond's　eyes　smiled　over　the　rim　of　the　glass。　　〃Percy　Proud；'　he　said；　an　eyebrow　cocked；　〃I'll　drink　to　that。〃　Percy　was　a　relaxed　young　woman；　an　easy　municator　blessed　with　a　sense　of　humour；　and　of　the　ridiculous。
　〃Okay；　James　〃they　were　at　last　seated　in　her　room　at　the　Hotel　de　Paris；　armed　with　champagne　cocktails　down　to　details。　　How　much　have　you　been　told？〃
　〃Very　little。〃　She　Will　give　you　the　fine　print；　M　had　said。
　Play　up　to　her；　trust　her；　let　her　teach　you。　　She　knows　more　about　all　this　than　anyone。
　〃You've　seen　this　picture？〃　She　extracted　a　small　photograph　from　her　handbag。　　〃I　just　have　to　show　it　to　you　and　then　destroy。　　I　don't　want　to　be　caught　with　it　on　me。
　The　photograph　was　a　smaller　print　of　the　one　they　had　shown　Bond　in　the　St。　Martin's　Lane　flat。
　〃Jay　Autem　Holy；'　Bond　said。　　The　man　looked　very　tall；　his　thinning　hair　failing　to　disguise　a　domed　head；　and　he　had　a　large；　beaky　nose。
　〃Doctor　Jay　Autem　Holy；'　she　corrected。
　〃Deceased。　　And　you　are　the　widow　…　though　I　wouldn't　have　recognised　you　after　some　of　the　photos　I've　seen。〃　She　gave　a　quick；　infectious　giggle。　　〃There　have　been　some　changes　made。〃
　〃I'll　say。
　The　other　identity　would　not　have　been　attractive　in　black　You'd　look　good　in　anything。〃
　〃Flattery　could　get　you　everywhere；　James　Bond。
　But　I　don't　really　think　Mrs。　Jay　Autem　Holy　ever　needed　widow's　weeds。
　You　see；　he　never　died。〃
　〃Tell　me。〃　She　began　with　the　story　already　told　by　M。　　Over　a　decade　before；　while　Dr　Jay　Autem　Holy　had　been　working　solely　for　the　Pentagon；　a　U。S。　　Marine　Corps　Grumman　Mohawk　aircraft　had　crashed　into　the　Grand　Canyon。　　Dr　Holy　and　a　General　Joseph　（〃Rolling　Joe'）　Zwingli　were　the　only　passengers。
　〃You　already　know　that　Jay　Autem　was　way　ahead　of　）　his　time；〃'　she　said。　　〃A　puter　whizz…kid　long　before　most　people　had　heard　of　puters。　　He　worked　on　very　advanced　programming　for　the　Pentagon。
　The　airplane　went　down　in　a　most　inaccessible　place　deep　into　a　gully。　No　bodies　were　ever　recovered；　and　Jay　Autem　had　a　nice　bundle　of　significant　puter　tapes　with　him　when　he　went。
　Naturally　they　were　not　recovered　either。　　He　was　working　on　a　portable　battle…training　program　for　senior　officers；　and　had　almost　perfect