if.thunderball-第49部分

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halt　signal；　and　came　slowly　up　under　its　protection。　With　infinite　caution　he　raised　his　head　through　the　sucking　waves。　He　glanced　first　toward　the　Disco　。　Yes；　she　was　still　there；　showing　more　plainly　with　the　moon　now　full　on　her。　No　sign　of　life。　Bond　inched　his　gaze　slowly　across　the　intervening　sea。　Nothing。　A　flurry　of　wavelets　down　the　mirrored　pathway　of　the　moon。　Now　Bond　slid　round　to　the　other　side　of　the　coral　head。　Nothing　but　the　broken　waters　of　the　shoal　and；　five　or　six　hundred　yards　away；　the　clear　coastline　and　the　beach。　Bond　searched　the　clear　channels　for　unusual　turbulence　in　the　water；　for　shapes；　for　anything　moving。　What　was　that？　A　hundred　yards　away；　on　the　edge　of　a　big　patch；　almost　a　lagoon　of　clear　water　among　the　coral；　a　head；　a　pale　head　with　the　glitter　of　a　mask　across　it；　had　broken　the　surface　for　an　instant；　taken　a　quick　look　around；　and　immediately　submerged。
　
　Bond　held　his　breath。　He　could　feel　his　thrilled　heart　hammering　against　the　inside　of　his　rubber　suit。　Feeling　stifled；　he　took　the　breathing　tube　from　between　his　teeth　and　let　his　breath　burst　out　of　him。　He　quickly　gulped　in　some　mouthfuls　of　fresh　air；　got　a　good　fix　on　the　position；　crammed　the　tube　roughly　between　his　lips　and　slid　back　and　down。
　
　Behind；　the　masks　gazed　blankly　at　him；　waiting　for　a　signal。　Bond　jerked　up　his　thumb　several　times。　Through　the　near　masks　he　could　see　the　answering　flash　of　teeth。　Bond　shifted　his　grasp　on　the　spear　down　to　an　attacking　position　and　surged　forward　over　the　low　coral。
　
　Now　it　was　only　a　question　of　speed　and　careful　navigation　among　the　occasional　higher　outcrops。　Fish　squirted　out　of　his　path　and　all　the　reef　seemed　to　waken　with　the　shock　wave　of　the　twelve　hastening　bodies。　Fifty　yards　on；　Bond　signaled　to　slow；　to　fan　out　in　the　attacking　line。　Then　he　crept　on　again；　his　eyes；　aching　and　bloodshot　with　the　strain；　boring　ahead　through　the　jagged　shapes　among　the　pale　mist。　Yes！　There　was　the　glitter　of　white　flesh；　and　there　and　there。　Bond's　arm　made　the　hurling　signal　for　the　attack。　He　plunged　forward；　his　spear　held　in　front　of　him　like　a　lance。
　
　Bond's　group　came　in　from　the　flank。　It　was　a　mistake；　as　Bond　quickly　saw；　for　the　SPECTRE　team　was　still　moving　forward　and　at　a　speed　that　surprised　Bond　until　he　saw　the　small　whirring　propellers　on　the　backs　of　the　enemy。　Largo's　men　were　wearing　pressed…air　speed　packs；　bulky　cylinders　strapped　between　the　twin　cylinders　of　their　aqualungs；　that　operated　small　screws。　bined　with　the　trudge　of　the　fins；　this　gave　them　at　least　double　normal　swimming　speed　in　open　water；　but　here；　among　the　broken　coral；　and　slowed　by　the　maneuvering　of　the　sled　preceded　by　the　electric　Chariot；　the　team　was　perhaps　only　a　knot　faster　than　Bond's　group；　now　thrashing　their　way　forward　to　an　interception　point　that　was　rapidly　escaping　them。　And　there　were　a　hell　of　a　lot　of　the　enemy。　Bond　stopped　counting　after　twelve。　And　most　of　them　carried　CO2　guns　with　extra　spears　in　quivers　strapped　to　their　legs。　The　odds　were　bad。　If　only　he　could　get　within　spear　range　before　the　alarm　was　given！
　
　Thirty　yards；　twenty。　Bond　glanced　behind　him。　There　were　six　of　his　men　almost　at　arm's　length；　the　rest　straggled　out　in　a　crooked　line。　Still　the　masks　of　Largo's　men　pointed　forward。　Still　they　hadn't　seen　the　black　shapes　making　for　them　through　the　coral。　But　now；　when　Bond　was　level　with　Largo's　rear　guard；　the　moon　threw　his　shadow　forward　across　a　pale　patch　of　sand　and　one　man；　then　another；　glanced　quickly　round。　Bond　got　a　foot　against　a　lump　of　coral　and；　with　this　to　give　him　impetus；　flung　himself　forward。　The　man　had　no　time　to　defend　himself。　Bond's　spear　caught　him　in　the　side　and　hurled　him　against　the　next　man　in　line。　Bond　thrust　and　wrenched　sickeningly。　The　man　dropped　his　gun　and　bent　double；　clutching　his　side。　Bond　bored　on　into　the　mass　of　naked　men　now　scattering　in　all　directions；　with　their　jet　packs　accelerated。　Another　man　went　down　in　front　of　him；　clawing　at　his　face。　A　chance　thrust　of　Bond's　had　smashed　the　glass　of　his　mask。　He　threshed　his　way　up　toward　the　surface；　kicking　Bond　in　the　face　as　he　went。　A　spear　ripped　into　the　rubber　protecting　Bond's　stomach　and　Bond　felt　pain　and　wetness　that　might　be　blood　or　sea　water。　He　dodged　another　flash　of　metal　and　a　gun　butt　hit　him　hard　on　the　head；　but　with　most　of　its　force　spent　against　the　cushion　of　water。　It　knocked　him　silly　and　he　clung　for　a　moment　to　a　niggerhead　to　get　his　bearings　while　the　black　tide　of　his　men　swept　past　him　and　individual　fights　filled　the　water　with　black　puffs　of　blood。
　
　The　battleground　had　now　shifted　to　a　wide　expanse　of　clear　water　fringed　with　broken　coral。　On　the　far　side　of　this；　Bond　saw　the　grounded　sled　laden　with　something　long　and　bulky　with　a　rubber　covering；　the　silver　torpedo　of　the　Chariot；　and　a　close　group　of　men　that　included　the　unmistakable；　oversize　figure　of　Largo。　Bond　melted　back　among　the　coral　clumps；　got　close　down　to　the　sand；　and　began　to　swim　cautiously　round　the　flank　of　the　big　clear　pool。　Almost　immediately　he　had　to　stop。　A　squat　figure　was　cowering　in　the　shadows。　His　gun　was　raised　and　he　was　taking　careful　aim。　It　was　at　Leiter；　in　difficulties　with　one　of　Largo's　men　who　had　him　by　the　throat　while　Leiter；　the　swim　fin　on　his　hook　gone；　clawed　with　the　hook　at　the　man's　back。　Bond　gave　two　hard　kicks　of　his　flippers　and　hurled　his　spear　from　six　feet。　The　light　wood　of　the　handle　had　no　momentum；　but　the　blade　cut　into　the　man's　arm　just　as　the　bubbles　of　gas　burst　from　the　muzzle　of　the　gun。　His　shot　went　wide；　but　he　flashed　round　and　thrust　at　Bond　with　the　empty　gun。　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye　Bond　saw　his　spear　floating　slowly　up　toward　the　surface。　He　dived　for　the　man's　legs　in　a　clumsy　rugby　tackle　and　clawed　them　off　the　ground。　Then；　as　the　gun　muzzle　hit　him　on　the　temple；　he　reached　a　desperate　hand　for　the　enemy's　mask　and　ripped　it　off　his　face。　That　was　enough。　Bond　swam　aside　and　watched　the　man；　blinded　by　the　salt　water；　groping　his　way　up　toward　the　surface。　Bond　felt　a　nudge　at　his　arm。　It　was　Leiter；　clutching　at　his　oxygen　tube。　His　face　inside　the　mask　was　contorted。　He　made　a　feeble　gesture　upward。　Bond　got　the　message。　He　seized　Leiter　round　the　waist　and　leaped　for　the　surface　fifteen　feet　up。　As　they　broke　through　the　silver　ceiling；　Leiter　tore　the　broken　tube　from　his　mouth　and　gulped　frantically　for　air。　Bond　held　him　through　the　paroxysm　and　then　guided　him　to　a　clump　of　shallow　coral；　and；　when　Leiter　pushed　him　angrily　away　and　told　him　to　get　the　hell　back　under　and　leave　him　alone；　he　put　up　a　thumb　and　dived　down　again。
　
　Now　he　kept　well　in　the　forest　of　coral　and　began　again　his　stalk　of　Largo。　Occasionally　he　caught　glimpses　of　individual　battles　and　once　he　passed　under　a　man；　one　of　his　men　from　the　Manta　；　staring　down　at　him　from　the　surface。　But　the　face　under　the　water；　framed　in　its　streaming　hair；　had　no　mask　or　oxygen　tube；　and　the　mouth　gaped　hideously　in　death。　On　the　bottom；　among　the　coral　clumps；　there　were　bits　of　wrack　from　the　tide　of　battle…an　oxygen　pack；　strips　of　black　rubber；　a　plete　aqualung　and　several　spears　from　the　CO2　guns。　Bond　picked　up　two　of　them。　Now　he　was　on　the　edge　of　the　open　lagoon　of　battle　water。　The　sled；　with　its　obscene　rubber　sausage；　was　still　there；　guarded　by　two　of　Largo's　men　with　their　guns　at　the　ready。　But　there　was　no　sign　of　Largo。　Bond　peered　into　the　misty　wall　through　which　the　moonlight；　paler　now；　filtered　down　onto　the　ripples　in　the　sand；　their　pretty　patterns　scuffed　and　churned　by　the　feet　of　the　batants。　Where　the　sand　had　been　disturbed；　reef　fish　were　swarming　to　pick　up　minute　fragments　of　algae　and　other　fodder；　like　seagulls　and　rooks　when　the　plow　has　passed。　There　was　nothing　else　to　be　seen　and　there　was　no　way　for　Bond　to　guess　how　the　battle；　dispersed　into　a　dozen　separate　running　fights；　was　going。　What　was　happening　on　the　surface？　When　Bond　had　taken　Leiter　up；　the　sea　had　been　lit　by　the　red　flare。　How　soon　would　the　rescue　dinghy　from　the　Manta　be　on　the　scene？　Ought　he　to　stay　where　he　was　and　watch　over　the　bomb？
　
　With　frightening　suddenness；　the　decision　was　made　for　him。　Out　of　the　mists　to　Bond's　right　the　gleaming　torpedo　shape　of　the　electric　Chariot　shot　into　the　arena。　Largo　sat　astride　it　in　the　saddle。　He　was　bent　down　behind　the　small　perspex　shield　to　get　extra　speed　and　his　left　hand　held　two　of　the　Manta　spears　pointing　forward　while　he　controlled　the　single　joystick　with　his　right。　As　he　appeared；　the　two　guards　dropped　their　guns　on　the　sand　and　held　up　the　coupling　of　the　sled。　Largo　slowed　down　and　drifted　up　to　them。　One　man　caught　the　rudder　and　wrestled　to　pull　the　Chariot　backward　toward　the　couplings。　They　were　going　to　get　out！　Largo　was　going　to　take　the　bomb　back　out　through　the　reef　and　drop　it　in　deep　water　or　bury　it！　The　same　thing　would　be　done　with　the　second　bomb　in　the　Disco　。　With　the　evidence　gone；　Largo　would　say　that　he　had　been　ambushed　by　rival　treasure　hunters。　How　was　he　to　know　they　came　from　a　United　States　submarine？　His　men　had　fought　back　with　their　shark　guns；　but　only　because　they　had　been