John Gardner - Nobody Lives for Ever

Bond glanced at the bed. The shrunken figure of Tamil Rahani had not moved. Time. He needed time. Time for some fast talking, and a little luck. He tried to sound casual.

‘Originally, a Mickey Finn was a laxative for horses. Did you know that?’

She took no notice. ‘You look like a black Kermit the Frog in that gear, James. It doesn’t suit you, so – very slowly – I want you to take it off.’

Bond shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do, and please don’t be foolish. The tiniest move and I won’t hesitate to take your legs off with this.’ The muzzle of the Uzi moved a fraction.

Slowly, and with a certain amount of difficulty, Bond began to take off the wet suit. All the time, he tried to keep her talking, picking questions with care.

‘You really did have me fooled, Nannie. After all, you saved me several times.’

‘More than you know.’ Her voice was level and emotionless. ‘That was my job, or at least the job I said I’d try to do.’

‘You wasted the German – what was his name? Conrad Tempel – on the road to Strasbourg?’

‘Oh, yes, and there were a couple before that who had latched on to you. I dealt with them. On the boat to Ostend.’

Bond nodded, acknowledging that he knew about the men on the ferry. ‘And Cordova – the Rat, the Poison Dwarf?’

‘Guilty.’

‘The Renault?’

‘That took me a little by surprise. You helped a great deal, James. Quinn was a thorn in the flesh, but you helped again. I was simply your guardian angel. That was my job.’

He finally pulled off the wet suit, standing there in the black slacks and rollneck.

‘What about Der Haken? The mad cop.’

Nannie gave a frosty smile. ‘I had some help there. My own private panic button – Der Haken was briefed; he thought I was a go-between for himself and SPECTRE. When he had outlived his usefulness, Colonel Rahani sent in the heavy mob to dispose of him. They wanted to take you as well, but the Colonel let me carry on – though there was a penalty clause: my head was on the block if I lost you after that. And I nearly did, because I was responsible for the vampire bat. Lucky for you that Sukie came along to save you when she did. But that gave me a hard time with SPECTRE. They’ve been experimenting with the beasts here. It was meant to give you rabies. You were a sort of guinea pig, and the plan was to get you to Shark Island before the symptoms became apparent. The Colonel wants your head, but he wanted to see the effect of the rabies before they shortened you, as they say.’

She moved the Uzi again. ‘Let’s have you against the wall, James. The standard position, feet apart, arms stretched. We don’t want to find you’re carrying any nasty little toys, do we?’

She frisked him expertly, and then began to remove his belt. It was the action of a trained expert, and something Bond had dreaded. ‘Dangerous things, belts,’ she said, undoing the buckle, then unthreading it from the loops. ‘Oh, yes. This one especially. Very cunning.’ She had obviously detected the Toolkit.

‘If SPECTRE has someone like you on the payroll, Nannie, why bother with a charade like this competition – the Head Hunt?’

‘I’m not,’ she said curtly. ‘Not on the payroll, I mean. I entered the competition as a freelance. I’ve done a little work for them before, so we came to an arrangement. They put me on a retainer, and I stood to get a percentage of the prize money if I won – which I have done. The Colonel has great faith in me. He saw it as a way of saving money.’

As though he had heard talk of himself, the figure on the bed stirred.

‘Who is it? What . . . Who?’

The voice, so commanding and firm the last time Bond had heard it, was now as wasted as the body.

‘It’s me, Colonel Rahani,’ said Nannie respectfully.

‘The Norrich girl?’

‘Nannie, yes. I’ve brought you a present.’

‘Help . . . Sit up . . .’ Rahani croaked.

‘I can’t at the moment. But I’ll press the bell.’

Bond, leaning forward, hands spread against the wall, heard her move, but knew he had no chance of taking precipitate action. Nannie was fast and accurate at the best of times. Now, with her quarry cornered, her trigger finger would be very itchy.

‘You can stand up now, James, slowly,’ she said a couple of seconds later.

He pushed himself from the wall.

‘Turn around – slowly – with your arms stretched out and feet apart, then lean back against the wall.’

Bond did as he was told, regaining a full view of the room just as the door to his right opened. Two men entered with guns in their hands.

‘Relax,’ Nannie said softly. ‘I’ve brought him.’

They were the usual SPECTRE specimens, one fair-haired, the other balding; both big muscular men with wary eyes and cautious, quick movements.

The fair one smiled. ‘Oh, good. Well done, Miss Norrich.’ His English bore the trace of a Scandinavian accent. The bald one merely nodded.

They were followed by a short man, dressed casually in white shirt and trousers, his face distorted by the right corner of his mouth, which seemed permanently twisted towards the right ear.

‘Dr McConnell,’ Nannie greeted him.

‘Aye, so it’s you, Mistress Norrich. Ye’ve brought yon man the Colonel’s always raving about, then?’

His face reminded Bond of a bizarre ventriloquist’s dummy as he spoke in his exaggeratedly Scottish accent. A tall, masculine-looking nurse plodded in his wake, a big, raw-boned woman with flaxen hair.

‘So, how’s ma patient, then?’ McConnell asked as he stood by the bed.

‘I think he wants to see the present I’ve brought for him, Doctor.’ Nannie’s eyes never left Bond. Now she had him, she was taking no chances.

The doctor gave a signal to the nurse, who moved towards the white bedside table. She picked up a flat black control box the size of a man’s wallet, attached to an electric cable that snaked under the bed. She pressed a button and the bedhead began to move upwards, raising Tamil Rahani into a sitting position. The mechanism made no more than a mild whirring noise.

‘There. I said I’d do it, Colonel Rahani, and I did. Mr James Bond, at your service.’ The smallest hint of triumph could be detected in Nannie’s voice.

There was a tired, wheezing cackle from Rahani as his eyes focused. ‘An eye for an eye, Mr Bond. Apart from the fact that SPECTRE has wanted you dead for more years than either of us would care to recall, I have a personal score to settle with you.’

‘Nice to see you in such a bad way,’ Bond said with icy detachment.

‘Ah! Yes, Bond,’ Rahani croaked. ‘On the last occasion we met, you caused me to jump for my life. I didn’t know then that I was jumping to my death. The bad landing jarred my spine, and that started the incurable disease from which I am now dying. Since you’ve caused the downfall of previous leaders of SPECTRE and decimated the Blofeld family, I regard it as a duty, as well as a personal privilege, to see you wiped from the face of the earth – hence the little contest.’ He was rapidly losing strength, each word tiring him. ‘A contest which was a gamble with the odds in SPECTRE’S favour, for we took on Miss Norrich, a tried and true operator.’

‘And you manipulated other contestants,’ Bond said grimly. ‘The kidnapping, I mean. I trust . . .’

‘Oh, the delightful Scottish lady, and the famous Miss Moneypenny. You trust?’

‘I think that’s enough talking, Colonel,’ said Dr McConnell, moving closer to the bed.

‘No . . . no . . .’ Rahani said, scarcely above a whisper. ‘I want to see him depart this life before I go.’

‘Then ya will, Colonel.’ The doctor bent over the bed. ‘Ye’ll have to rest a while first, though.’