Ian Fleming - James Bond 09 by Thunderball

Author:Thunderball [Thunderball]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-02-21T11:32:27+00:00

Bond 9 - Thunderball

13.

“My Name Is Emilio Largo”

Leiter’s “sixpenny sick” was the hotel launch, a smart Chrysler-engined speedboat that said it would be $20 an hour. They ran out westward from the harbor, past Silver Cay, Long Cay, and Balmoral Island and round Delaporte Point. Five miles farther down the coast, encrusted with glittering seashore properties the boatman said cost £400 per foot of beach frontage, they rounded Old Fort Point and came upon the gleaming white and dark blue ship lying with two anchors out in deep water just outside the reef. Leiter whistled. He said in an awestruck voice, ”Boy, is that a piece of boat! I’d sure like to have one of those to play with in my bath.”

Bond said, “She’s Italian. Built by a firm called Rodrigues at Messina. Thing called an Aliscafo . She’s got a hydrofoil under the hull and when she gets going you let this sort of skid down and she rises up and practically flies. Only the screws and a few feet of the stern stay in the water. The Police Commissioner says she can do fifty knots in calm water. Only good for inshore work of course, but they can carry upwards of a hundred passengers when they’re designed as fast ferries. Apparently this one’s been designed for about forty. The rest of the space is taken up with the owner’s quarters and cargo space. Must have cost damned near a quarter of a million.”

The boatman broke in. “They say on Bay Street that she goin’ go after the treasure these next few days or so. All the people that own share in the gold come in a few days ago. Then she spen’ one whole night doin’ a final recce. They say is down Exhuma way, or over by Watlings Island. Guess you folks know that’s where Columbus make him first landfall on this side of the Atlantic. Around fourteen ninety somethin’. But could be anywhere down there. They’s always been talk of treasure down ‘mongst the Ragged Islands–even as far as Crooked Island. Fact is she sail out southward. Hear her myself, right until her engines died away. East by southeast, I’da say.” The boatman spat discreetly over the side. ”Must be plenty heap of treasure with the cost of that ship and all the money they throwing ‘way. Every time she go to the Hoiling Wharf they say the bill’s five hundred pound.”

Bond said casually, “Which night was it they did the final recce?”

“Night after she hoiled. That’d be two nights ago. Sail round six.”

The blank portholes of the ship watched them approach. A sailor polishing brass round the curve of the enclosed dome that was the bridge walked through the hatch into the bridge and Bond could see him talking into a mouthpiece. A tall man in white ducks and a very wide mesh singlet appeared on deck and observed them through binoculars. He called something to the sailor, who came and stood at the top of the ladder down the starboard side.

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