Christopher Wood - James Bond and Moonraker

Gray looked embarrassed. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Bond. I’ve played bridge with this fellow Drax.’ M delivered a cold look which Gray rightly took as a reproach. ‘He’s a very influential figure in Anglo-American affairs. Sort of diplomat without portfolio. Chaps like him wield an awful lot of international influence.’

Bond said nothing but led the way through to the courtyard. The prow of a police launch was visible through the wrought iron gate. Two policemen stood at the top of the flight of steps. Nobody could fault the speed and thoroughness with which the Italians had moved. Bond swallowed. His throat was dry. A few yards away lay the remnants of something inexplicably evil. He was not looking forward to seeing inside the laboratory again.

At the top of the steps they were met by two carabinieri and a plain clothes man carrying a canvas bag, The plain clothes man shook hands solemnly and led the way down the corridor. He paused outside the steel doors and turned to Bond.

‘This is it?’ asked Gray.

‘Yes, sir.’ Bond took the canvas bag and withdrew three gas masks. They dangled from his fingers like squid.

Gray looked incredulous. ‘Gas masks?’ His voice was an imitation of Lady Bracknell’s. ‘Now look here —’

‘I don’t think it’s wise to take any chances.’ Bond’s voice was firm but calm. M said nothing but stretched out his hand for a mask. Gray gave an exclamation of impatience and followed suit. The plain clothes man and the carabinieri retired down the corridor towards the courtyard.

‘Haven’t done this since the war.’ M’s voice almost savoured the nostalgia as he pulled on his gas mask. Gray followed suit as if being asked to put on a funny hat at a children’s party. When satisfied that the two men were properly protected, Bond pulled on his own mask and approached the door control panel. His chest heaved as he raised a finger. Five-one-one-three-five. Nothing happened. He tapped the numbers again with the same lack of result. Beside him he could see Gray’s eyes behind the mask straining to catch M’s. Bond turned towards the door and experienced a shock. Where there had once been smooth metal there was now a handle. Bond felt uneasy. As Gray cleared his throat impatiently, Bond turned the handle gently and felt the door opening. He pushed it forward and stepped into the room to receive his second surprise of the morning.

What had once been the outer office had disappeared. Of the laboratory there was no sign. In their place was a long vaulted chamber hung with Aubusson tapestries and Renaissance paintings. Bookcases projected at regular intervals from the walls and the gold leaf on the hand-tooled leather covers gleamed in the thin morning light that entered from the high diamond-shaped windows. A huge brass candelabra hung from the ceiling, and the room was sprinkled with tasteful items of antique furniture. It was from one of these that a familiar figure rose. The pink satin upholstery of the chaise longue paid an insipid compliment to the red hair and the rufous complexion, but there was no mistaking Drax’s awesome bulk in any surroundings. He surveyed his visitors with an amused smile tinged with mockery.

‘Why, I do believe it’s Frederick Gray. What a surprise!’ He approached with arms outstretched as Gray tore off his gas mask. ‘And in distinguished company, all wearing gas masks.’ His smile embraced the trio. ‘You must excuse me, gentlemen. Not being English, I sometimes find your sense of humour a trifle difficult to follow.’

Bond felt the words sting him like a whiplash. What a damnably clever fellow he was up against. To underestimate Hugo Drax for one second would be to risk paying a forfeit of one’s life.

Frederick Gray’s eyes blazed with anger and embarrassment. He removed them from Bond and accepted Drax’s hand. ‘Frightfully sorry about this intrusion — I think our lines of communication must have got crossed.’ He foundered and turned to M for help.

‘Good morning, Mr Drax,’ said M calmly. ‘Do you happen to have a laboratory on your premises?’

‘A laboratory?’ Drax sounded surprised. ‘No. There are the workshops, of course, but nothing that you could call a laboratory. The art of glass manufacture as practised here has changed little over the centuries.’

‘And no more accidents?’ said Bond coldly. ‘Such as the incident that led to Miss Parker’s death?’

For a second a tiny pinpoint of red glowed in the centre of Drax’s ill-matched eyes. ‘An incident certainly, but not an accident. Somebody broke into the glassworks last night. Chang, my personal assistant, appears to have surprised the intruder in the museum — it is where any thief would have gone. I cannot be sure of exactly what took place because Chang was murdered.’

Gray turned to look at Bond and then controlled himself. ‘How terrible. You have all our sympathy.’

‘Thank you,’ said Drax. ‘I take it that this is not the crime you are investigating?’

‘Not directly,’ said M. ‘Although the events may be connected.’

‘That is always possible,’ said Drax. He looked at Bond without love. ‘I hope you will keep me abreast of all developments.’ He smiled. ‘I believe that is the rather convoluted expression you English employ in these situations?’

‘Sometimes,’ said M noncommittally. Bond could tell that the old man had not warmed to Drax — though that was hardly going to help him in his present situation. ‘I think we’d better leave you in peace.’ M nodded gruffly to Drax and led the way towards the door, with Gray grovelling two steps behind.

Outside in the square the situation was different. No sooner clear of the puzzled onlookers and scarcely less confused carabinieri than Gray launched into the attack. He ignored Bond and addressed himself solely to M. ‘That was the greatest humiliation of my life,’ he hissed. ‘I ask you to put your best man on this case and what do I get? A paranoid lunatic who has apparently committed a murder. Not only that, he drags us out of bed to become accessories I’ The voice was approaching breaking point. ‘I want him replaced immediately! The man needs a medical report. God knows what the outcome of this affair is going to be.’

M listened stoically until Gray had exhausted himself and stalked off across the square, detonating clouds of pigeons. He watched him go and then crossed to Bond’s side. He felt in his pocket and withdrew his pipe. ‘What the hell is going on, 007? Have they got at you with drugs again?’

Bond shook his head. ‘No, sir. There was a laboratory there. Drax is a damned clever operator, that’s all.’

M looked sceptical. ‘He must be if he can remove all traces of the structure you described in a few hours.’

Bond felt inside his jacket. ‘He couldn’t remove this, Sir.’ He produced the phial and handed it to M. ‘This is what they were distilling. I’d like Q to analyse it. But exercising extreme caution. It killed two men.’

‘One more than you,’ said M drily. He closed his hand around the phial and looked up at Bond. ‘What am I going to do with you, James? You heard what Gray said. You’ve got to come off the assignment.’

Bond’s eyes twinkled. ‘Compassionate leave, sir?’

M looked from his beloved pipe to the phial and pocketed the former. ‘Where did you have in mind?’

Bond’s voice was level. ‘I’ve always had a hankering to visit Rio de Janeiro, sir.’

M nodded. ‘Oh, yes. I recall you mentioning it on the way from the airport.’ His voice suddenly took on a harsh edge. ‘Very well. But no slip-ups, 007. Otherwise we’re both in trouble.’

From the first floor of the Venini Glass shop, Drax watched Bond and M walk away across the square. A thin but triumphant smile played around his ugly mouth. To see the proud English picking at a dish of humble pie was always a pleasing sight. Drax crossed to a telephone and punched out thirteen numbers authoritatively. There was a pause and then the ringing phone was answered. Drax quickly announced himself and dealt with the worried inquiries. ‘Yes, yes. There is no further cause for alarm. I have taken care of everything. A minor crisis has been averted.’ His tone became urgent. ‘But, one important thing: as from now, all merchandise must be re-routed. It is possible that you may be receiving visitors. Nosey visitors. Have no qualms about disposing of them.’ There was a spurt of acquiescence from the other end of the line. Drax waited for it to expend itself. ‘There is also the matter of a replacement for Chang. What have you achieved?’ Drax listened and showed his uneven teeth in a smile. ‘Excellent. If you can get him, I will be well pleased.’ More assurances flooded his ears. ‘You’ve got him on the next flight? Splendid. Most gratifying. You have done well.’ Drax replaced the receiver on the sound.of thanks being expressed for gratitude and stretched back in his chair until the joints creaked. In a few hours he had retrieved the work of a lifetime. Now the future — his future — seemed assured.