Raymond Benson: Doubleshot

The two guards looked up and were momentarily confused by the sight of a beautiful blonde walking up the road. Before they could speak, Heidi asked, “Where’s my sister, creeps?” and then raised her arm and shot both men in their chests. They flew backward, landing with thuds on the ground.

Heidi walked through the open gate and went inside.

TWENTY - TWO

BULLRING

THEY LED HIM THROUGH THE BULLRING ENTRANCE AND SHOVED HIM TO THE soft dirt in the center of the bullring. With his hands still tied behind his back, there was not much that Bond could do to fight back. Peredur Glyn, the man who looked like James Bond, stood against the fence. Three Spanish guards were at the shields, watching Bond intently.

“This is Domingo’s practice bullring,” Margareta said. “It’s a marvelous facility. The annex is equipped with everything one needs to breed fighting bulls. Domingo also uses part of the complex as a slaughterhouse. Have you ever seen what those vats of acid do to the remains of animal parts, Mr. Bond? The acid melts the skin right off the bones, and before long, the bones disintegrate as well. You get to experience this once-in-a-lifetime sensation firsthand!”

Yassasin addressed Glyn. “After you’ve had your fun, make sure there is nothing left. Report to Margareta when you’re finished, then you can have your blond American.”

“Yes, sir,” the imposter Bond said, not taking his eyes off the man he was going to kill.

Yassasin turned to Margareta and said, “I’m off to Gibraltar. Needless to say, make sure he makes it to the meeting on time.” He indicated Glyn.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “That American girl will keep him occupied. We’ll set off bright and early.”

The pair began walking back through the door. Yassasin turned and said, as an afterthought, “Good-bye, Mr. Bond.” The door closed and Bond was alone with his double and the three men.

Bond struggled to his feet and looked at his captors. What now? he wondered. He prepared himself for a beating, for he was certain they would want him alive when they were ready to use the acid. Bond scanned the ring for any sign of an escape. The shields were well covered by the guards.

One of the men said something in Spanish that Bond didn’t catch. Glyn nodded, then all of them moved behind a shield. One man remained in the ring, moved to the bull’s gate, and opened it.

A full-grown, fighting-mad black bull charged into the ring. The guard closed the door behind the animal, then quickly ran to the safety of the shield.

Bond froze, knowing full well that if he moved, the bull would charge. The bull was agitated. It ran to and fro, looking for a way out of this strange pen. Then it saw Bond, standing in the middle of the ring. Bond held his breath, but it was no good. The bull sensed the human’s fear, and it charged at full speed.

Bond broke into a run across the ring, but the bull was fast. It attempted to slam into its moving target, but Bond sidestepped the animal just in time. The bull dug its front hooves into the dirt and skidded to a stop. It turned around and charged again. This time Bond ran to a shield, but the guard there thrust a spike at him. The sharp barb jabbed Bond’s shoulder, causing him to recoil in pain. He fell back against the fence, only to see the bull charging straight for him. Bond spun around and away just as the bull’s horns smashed into the fence. The men laughed and taunted Bond in Spanish. Peredur Glyn shouted, “If I were you, Mr. Bond, I would let the bull kill you. That would be preferable to watching your skin fall off in a vat of acid, don’t you think?”

The bull recovered from the missed attack, then charged at Bond again. Bond ran along the fence, searching for anything that might cut the binds around his wrists.

Suddenly, the bullring entrance opened, and a picador, carrying a pair of lances, entered on horseback. The bull, seeing the horse, forgot about Bond momentarily and charged at it. The picador expertly maneuvered the horse around the bull and successfully thrust a lance into the bull’s withers. The bull snorted and bellowed, becoming even angrier.

Bond could feel the bull’s immense power even from across the ring. There was no other beast quite like it. It was a galloping locomotive weighing over a thousand pounds. It had one intention, and that was to destroy what it perceived to be its enemy.

The picador galloped his horse around the ring, leading the bull in a chase. Bond managed to get out of the way, but the bull’s concentration was on the horse at the moment. In a surprise turn, the picador doubled back and threw the second lance into the bull.

The bull, confused and angered by the pain, stopped to take stock of its situation. The gate opened again, and the picador rode out, leaving the bull alone with Bond again.

It turned to Bond, breathing heavily. A crimson stream flowed down its side.

Bond turned his back on the bull and walked slowly toward the fence. As long as he didn’t make any sudden movement, perhaps he could continue to avoid the bull until it tired out.

But he had no such luck. The bull pawed the dirt, snorted, and bolted toward him. Bond ran to the shield, but he heard Glyn shout something in Spanish. The sound of machinery echoed in the ring as the shield suddenly moved back into the fence, blocking off the safety zone. In fact, all of the shields in the ring had slid back and were now flush with the fence. There was no way out.

Glyn and the others were now behind the fence, whistling and taunting Bond.

Bond ran along the fence, the bull close on his heels. Bond zigzagged, attempting to throw the bull off its concentration, but the animal stayed with him. He ran faster, but he could hear the pounding of the bull’s hooves on the ground coming closer and closer behind him.

The force of the impact took Bond by surprise. He felt a hammer-like slam in the small of his back, and for a moment he was in midair. The bull had butted him and thrown his body into the air like a paper cup. Bond landed hard on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. The bull turned and charged with its head down and horns pointed forward.

Bond rolled out of the way with split-second timing, avoiding a terrible goring.

The men laughed and jeered.

Bond got to his feet and stood in front of the bull, attempting to adapt a matador’s stance. He stared at the bull, daring it to make another move. The bull hesitated just a moment, then charged again. This time Bond was ready. He allowed the bull to broadside him close enough so that Bond could perhaps grab one of the lances sticking out of the bull’s back. It was an awkward maneuver with his hands tied behind him, and the first time he tried it, he missed. Bond beckoned to the bull again, and this time he spun around as the bull passed him and took hold of the lance with his right hand.

The bull, confused by the additional pain of having the lance’s barbs tear out of its wound, stopped. It trotted to one side of the ring, staking out what was called a querencia, an area of the bullring where the bull felt secure. Many times in a real bullfight, a bull might retreat to this area and refuse to leave. It was up to the matador to draw it out to fight.

Bond used the momentary lull to thrust the lance’s handle into the soft dirt, with the point sticking up. Even with his hands behind him, Bond managed to angle the lance so that he could reach the barbs with his wrists. He rubbed the bindings against the barbs.

“Hey, that’s against the rules!” Glyn shouted.