Scorpius by John Gardner

Author:John Gardner [Gardner, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781605983844
Amazon: 1605983845
Publisher: Pegasus
Published: 2012-10-09T18:30:00+00:00

13

SCATTER

The former member of 42 Commando, Royal Marines, looked as though he had caught the full blast of a heavy-calibre bullet in the face. Bond could only recognise him from his build and the uniform. As in the small operations room, there appeared to be blood everywhere. It could not have come simply from the security man on reception.

Then he saw the other horrors – the two nurses, one on her back, the other spread-eagled, as though she had been thrown against the wall, then dumped without ceremony, or thought for her dignity: for her uniform skirt had flown upwards, leaving her in an almost naked state.

Both girls had been gunned down – why no noise, he kept asking – and the bullets had severed arteries. When this occurs, blood travels, jets, sometimes over considerable distances.

All Bond could think of was finding out if Pearly and Harriett had assisted in this. Whoever had posed as Trilby’s brother, and uncles, were certainly to blame. Had the SAS man and – or – the American IRS girl helped?

Then he saw the other body, outside, face-down on the clinic’s steps, small rivers of blood forming a crimson tracery down the stone. A big man, dark-haired and dressed well, in a conservative black pin-striped suit. One of the ‘uncles’? Or even Trilby’s ‘brother’? It was certainly not Pearly.

From here he could see the little security booth and its barber-pole checkpoint. The pole was up, and the glass around the booth shattered.

With automatic still at the ready, Bond ran down the steps, straight across the forecourt to the booth. There was nothing he could now do for the occupants. They were both dead, one still seated behind the smashed glass checking window, his uniform front soaked dark brown. There was a look of incredible surprise on his face.

Turning, he began to walk back to the clinic. There were things that had to be done fast. As he walked he saw, almost with incredulity, the racing-green Mulsanne Turbo still in the place in which he had parked it. Only the ambulance had gone.

Inside again he wiped some of the blood away from one of the Reception telephones and dialled the usual emergency number. In all Service establishments there was a system for emergencies, like the public 999 call for the ambulance, police or fire services. Dialling the number from here meant that it would ring in the nearest Secret Intelligence Service-related office. Maybe a substation of the Special Branch, or the Military Intelligence Office of some Army, Naval or Air Force base. In this case it was the latter: the Air Intelligence Office at Farnborough – that show place for the world’s aircraft which doubles under many guises: accident investigation to aircraft testing. There is always a Royal Air Force presence at Farnborough, and, naturally, an Intelligence Office.

Bond identified himself under his normal contact name, Predator. He then gave the cipher for the clinic – which was Hospice – and the signal for a top-level emergency – Flash Red.

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