James Bond - 024 - Licence to Kill by John Gardner

Author:John Gardner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Thrillers, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781409127253
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2012-08-02T07:00:00+00:00

10

DEAR UNCLE

Bond was lying at a 90-degree angle to the intruder’s body, well out of the way of flailing arms and legs. His left arm pressed down across the man’s throat, while he literally screwed the muzzle of the little Beretta into his ear.

‘Right,’ he whispered, breathing hard, his voice full of menace. ‘Who sent you? Heller? Or was it Sanchez himself? Tell me now or I’ll blow your wretched little head off.’

The victim struggled, making croaking sounds. Bond relaxed pressure on his windpipe, so that the sounds became words. Words from a voice he recognised.

‘Really, 007! For goodness sake! Let me go!’

‘Oh, my God!’ The intruder wore sandals, baggy checked pants and a blinding floral shirt. He had taken that in, his mind telling him the fellow was dressed like a tourist which would be natural cover for his ‘uncle’. He had not seen the face properly, but the voice was distinctive. ‘Good grief, what are you doing here?’ He let go of the figure who had been struggling on the floor, standing up and helping him to his feet.

Standing in front of him, looking shaken, was Major Boothroyd, head of Q-Branch, officially titled the Armourer, but more lovingly referred to by all at the London Headquarters as Q.

‘I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t go creeping in without being announced.’

‘Well, I couldn’t have left a message at reception saying, “Please tell Mr Bond that Q’s in his suite”, could I?’

‘I suppose not. But what in heaven’s name’re you doing here? Sit down. Have a drink.’

‘Brandy, 007. Better make it a stiff one.’ Q made a clucking noise and walked towards the long table under the window. There had been a bowl of fruit on it, now, as Bond poured a liberal dose of Remy Martin, he saw the fruit had been joined by one of Q’s favourite briefcases: the type built on the bellows principle, which gave you the impression that it would hold anything, like a bottomless pit.

Q lugged the bag over to a chair and sat down, heavily. ‘You’re certainly fast and fit, Bond.’ He massaged his neck. ‘Well, that’s as it should be, I suppose. What am I doing here, you ask?’

Bond nodded, placing the brandy within Q’s reach.

‘I’m on leave. On vacation as they say in the States. This being the case, thought I’d pop by and see how you’re getting along.’ Q’s face had assumed a look of slightly overdone innocence.

Bond sat close to him. ‘How did you find me?’

Q drew a deep breath, as though he had been caught in one of his own pieces of trickery. ‘Damn it, Bond. Moneypenny. The woman’s worried sick about you.’

It was Bond’s turn to sigh. ‘And how did she know?’

‘Never mind about that.’

‘Q, listen to me. You’re not a field man. This is a dangerous place, and you would be better off out of it. Why not slip off into the night, eh?’

For a moment Q looked quite angry. ‘No need to be coy with me, Bond. I know what you’re up to; and frankly I believe you need my help .

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