Christopher Wood - The Spy Who Loved Me

‘Where are we?' Anya was at his side.

'I don’t know. Some kind of ancient city.’ Bond gazed around. The sand stretched away on all sides. ‘Wait here.’ Her eyes blazed, but she stayed where she was while he edged forward and peered into the driver’s cab through the open window. It was empty. He returned to her side. ‘Right. We’ve got to find him.* He glanced at the Beretta. ‘Do you know how to use that thing?’

She looked at him with proud contempt. ‘You will see.’ Damn you, thought Bond. How many women do I know who could look so overwhelmingly beautiful after being cooped up in the back of a van for the night? I don’t want to compete with you, I want to make love to you. ‘Don’t forget,’ he said gruffly, trying to get a grip on his feelings. ‘When we catch up with our friend, it’s every man for himself.’

‘And every woman.’ Anya threw back her head defiandy. ‘Do you want me to lead?’

Bond allowed the slim line of her body to pass ahead and resisted the temptation to kick her in the middle of her beautifully shaped behind.

The first rays of the rising sun shone directly in their faces as they skirted the avenue of sphinxes and moved warily through an opening in a high wall and into an inner courtyard containing two rows of stone columns rising to a height of sixty feet. Bond looked about him and felt uneasy. Anybody lying in wait for them would have an overwhelming advantage. Why had the executioner come here? Was he looking for something? Was he meeting someone?

Anya moved gracefully from pillar to pillar. Bond slapped viciously at the first fly of the day and sent his eyes scaling the jagged mountains of stone. This part must have been some kind of temple. And now they were approaching a second courtyard where restoration work was in hand. An untidy framework of scaffolding lay against a great stone facade carved into the relief of a pharaoh. There was a pulley for raising stones and every floor of the scaffolding was littered with pieces of masonry. There was no sign of workmen. One arm of the pharaoh was lifted dramatically and between his spread legs was the entrance to a tunnel. Anya looked towards the tunnel and nodded. Bond threw a finger forward in a gesture of acquiescence and then took her by the arm and led her round the perimeter of the courtyard. There was something about this place that gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was like the props room of a folded theatrical company. No sun peered into the courtyard and the gloomy pharaoh seemed to be raising his fist against the high walls that pressed in on him, as if daring them to come any closer. Bond looked at the giant stone fist silhouetted against the blue sky and marvelled that the heat haze could start so early. The stone actually seemed to be trembling.

And then he realized that it was trembling.

Not only trembling but tipping forward. With a shout, he hurled Anya to one side and threw himself backwards against the nearest wall. Two tons of granite hissed into the sand between them and the ground shook. Bond licked his dry lips and looked up. Jaws was towering above him on the edge of the topmost platform of the still-shaking scaffolding. A guttural grunt broke from the back of Jaws’s throat and he threw himself at the hook of the pulley. With a banshee scream the rope snaked out and the huge man hurtled down to land in front of Bond with an impact scarcely less startling than that of the block of masonry.

Bond prepared to defend himself but his heart quailed. Even without the terrifying teeth the man was awesome. Bond was over six foot tall but he would have to grow another fourteen inches to match this giant. His arms were like weightlifters' legs and his extended fingers could have touched three sides of a chess board. As Bond took up his fighting crouch the man’s head tilted back and his lips parted slowly. The unveiling of the hideous, jagged teeth was calculated to strike fear, like the raising of the dorsal spines of a fighting fish.

Bond circled warily. What was Anya doing with her gun? Was she going to wait for him to be killed? Jaws’ arm rose slowly like the arm of a crane and a great hand closed about the heavy metal hook of the block and tackle. Bond saw the glint in the eye and felt like a coconut in a coconut-shy. ‘Yuh!’ The huge arm flexed and enough metal to forge an anvil screamed towards Bond. He hurled himself to one side and the rope stung him like a whiplash as it whistled past. Behind him there was a sound like the aftermath of a demolition gang swinging an iron ball at a building. Jaws smiled and lumbered forward. Bond ducked inside the groping arms and aimed a right cross at the heavy jaw. It was a perfect punch. He knew it the moment his arm swung away from his body. And then the impact. Flesh and bone against solid metal. It was like punching the side of a tank. For a moment he thought he had shattered his knuckle. A flame of pain ran up his arm to the socket. Jaws’ hands fell on his shoulders like metal sacks and hurled him back into the scaffolding. The back of his head struck a metal upright and his spine felt as if it had been driven against his rib cage. He was on fire with pain, the wind driven from his body. Desperately trying to raise his arms he felt himself sliding towards the ground. Jaws moved forward for the coup de grâce , his steel teeth parting like the expectant maw of a guillotine.

‘Stay where you are !'

Bond turned his dazed head to see Anya, her gun trained unflinchingly on Jaws. Jaws peered down on it as if it was same malevolent insect.

‘The microfilm. Throw it at my feet!'

Jaws hesitated and then slowly introduced a hand into one of his pockets. Bond fought to clear his head and get the breath circulating through his aching body. He could feel the flies crawling over his bleeding knuckle. Jaws withdrew his hand and lobbed the small canister at Anya’s feet. Anya bent down and at that instant Jaws lashed out with his foot, kicking sand into her facc. She fired blind and missed. Jaws kicked again and the gun sailed into the scaffolding. Bond dived for it and again was seized by Jaws who threw him like a bundle of laundry into the thicket of metal. He dragged himself to his knees and saw Jaws coming for him with a short length of scaffolding that he was wielding like a baseball bat. ‘Yuh!’ The shoulders came back and the biceps locked. There was a hiss of air and Bond ducked as the steel club whistled towards his head.

With a hideous, teeth-grating screech it exploded against an upright and knocked it two feet out of true. A cloud of dust and stones poured down and the scaffolding squeaked and trembled. Bond sprawled on his back and turned on his side in a desperate attempt to rise. His spine throbbed and every movement sent sharp daggers of pain stabbing through his body. Jaws had raised the piece of piping above his head and was stepping forward. Bond scrambled back on his elbows and felt the wall block his retreat. There was no escape. Bond could feel the fear rushing through him like a spring tide. He looked about him, hoping to light on some weapon. There was nothing. Jaws’s eyes were now tiny laser beams of concentration. He was bent on extermination, not amusement. Bond saw the crooked upright and knew it was his only chance. Summoning up all his strength he drew back both feet and lashed out. Thee soles and heels of his shoes landed solidly and together and the upright was knocked sideways.

There was a crack like a stick snapping and Bond rolled sideways waiting for the impact of the blow that was going to shatter his head like a pineapple. It did not come. Instead, there was a mounting rumble, building into a roar. The whole structure around him began to crumble and a block of stone crashed down inches from his fingers. The scaffolding was breaking up like a dynamited log-jam. Dust and rubble poured down and a falling plank brushed his shoulder. Bond rolled again and then half scrambled, half ran, expecting at any second to be crushed to death as he fled into the courtyard. He ran until the roar no longer seemed to pursue him and then collapsed on his knees. Behind him the last plank tipped, teetered and fell and the dust began to settle.