007 Complete Series - 21 James Bond Novels in One Volume. Ian Fleming

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СКАЧАТЬ they curved away out of sight towards the distant hollow boom of the sea.

      Bond went back into Drax's office and pulled down the shower curtain in the bathroom. Then Gala and he tore it into strips and tied them together. He made a jagged rent at the end of the last strip so as to give an impression that the escape rope had broken. Then he tied the other end firmly round the pointed tip of one of the Moonraker's three fins and dropped the rest so that it hung down the shaft.

      It was not much of a false scent, but it might gain some time.

      The big round mouths of the ventilator shafts were spaced about ten yards apart and about four feet off the floor. Bond counted. There were fifty of them. He carefully opened the hinged grating that covered one of them and looked up. Forty feet away there was a faint glimmer from the moonlight outside. He decided that they were tunnelled straight up inside the wall of the site until they turned at right angles towards the gratings in the outside walls.

      Bond reached up and ran his hand along the surface. It was unfinished roughcast concrete and he grunted with satisfaction as he felt first one sharp protuberance and then another. They were the jagged ends of the steel rods reinforcing the walls, cut off where the shafts had been bored.

      It was going to be a painful business, but there was no doubt they could inch their way up one of these shafts, like mountaineers up a rock chimney, and, in the turn at the top, lie hidden from anything but the sort of painstaking search that would be difficult in the morning with all the officials from London round the site.

      Bond knelt down and the girl climbed on to his back and started up.

      An hour later, their feet and shoulders bruised and cut, they lay exhausted, squeezed tight in each other's arms, their heads inches away from the circular grating directly above the outside door, and listened to the guards restlessly shifting their feet in the darkness a hundred yards away.

      Five o'clock, six, seven.

      Slowly the sun came up behind the dome and the seagulls started to call in the cliffs and then suddenly there were the three figures walking towards them in the distance, passed by a fresh platoon of guards doubling, chins up, knees up, to relieve the night watch.

      The figures came nearer and the squinting, exhausted eyes of the hidden couple could see every detail of Drax's blood-orange face, the lean, pale foxiness of Dr Walter, the suety, overslept puffiness of Krebs.

      The three men walked like executioners, saying nothing. Drax took out his key and they silently filed through the door a few feet below the taut bodies of Bond and Gala.

      Then for ten minutes there was silence except for the occasional boom of voices up the ventilator shaft as the three men moved about down on the steel floor round the exhaust pit. Bond smiled to himself at the thought of the rage and consternation on Drax's face; the miserable Krebs wilting under the lash of Drax's tongue; the bitter accusation in Walter's eyes. Then the door burst open beneath him and Krebs was calling urgently to the leader of the guards. A man detached himself from the semi-circle and ran up.

      "Die Engländer," Kreb's voice was almost hysterical. "Escaped. The Herr Kapitän thinks they may be in one of the ventilator shafts. We are going to take a chance. The dome will be opened again and we will clear out the fumes from the fuel. And then the Herr Doktor will put the steam hose up each shaft. If they're there it will finish them. Choose four men. The rubber gloves and firesuits are down there. We'll take the pressure off the heating. Tell the others to listen for the screams. Verstanden?"

      "Zu Befehl!" The man doubled smartly back to his troop and Krebs, the sweat of anxiety on his face, turned and disappeared back through the door.

      For a moment Bond lay motionless.

      There was a heavy rumble above their heads as the dome divided and swung open.

      The steam hose!

      He had heard of mutinies in ships being fought with it. Rioters in factories. Would it reach forty feet? Would the pressure last? How many boilers fed the heating? Among the fifty ventilator shafts, where would they choose to begin? Had Bond or Gala left any clue to the one they had climbed?

      He felt that Gala was waiting for him to explain. To do something. To protect them.

      Five men came doubling from the semi-circle of guards. They passed underneath and disappeared.

      Bond put his mouth to Gala's ear. "This may hurt," he said. "Can't say how much. Can't be helped. Just have to take it. No noise." He felt the answering tentative pressure from her arms. "Bring your knees up. Don't be shy. This is no time to be maidenly."

      "Shut up," whispered Gala angrily. He felt one knee creep up until it was locked between his thighs. His own knee followed suit until it would go no further. She squirmed furiously. "Don't be a bloody fool," whispered Bond, pulling her head in close to his chest so that it was half covered by his open shirt.

      He overlay her as much as possible. There was nothing to be done about their ankles or his hands. He pulled his shirt collar up as far over their heads as possible. They held tightly to each other.

      Hot, cramped, breathless. Waiting, it suddenly occurred to Bond, like two lovers in the undergrowth. Waiting for the footsteps to go by so that they could start again. He smiled grimly to himself and listened.

      There was silence down the shaft. They must be in the engine room. Walter would be watching the hose being coupled to the outlet valve. Now there were distant noises. Where would they start?

      Somewhere, not far away, there was a soft, long-drawn-out whisper, like the inefficient whistle of a distant train.

      He drew his shirt collar back and stole a look out through the grating at the guards. Those he could see were looking straight at the launching-dome, somewhere to his left.

      Again the long harsh whisper. And again.

      It was getting louder. He could see the heads of the guards pivoting towards the grating in the wall which hid him and Gala. They must be watching, fascinated, as the thick white jets of steam shot out through the gratings high up in the cement wall, wondering if this one, or that one, or that one, would be accompanied by a double scream.

      He could feel Gala's heart beating against his. She didn't know what was coming. She trusted him.

      "It may hurt," he whispered to her again. "It may burn. It won't kill us. Be brave. Don't make a sound."

      "I'm all right," she whispered angrily. But he could feel her body press closer in to his.

      Whoosh. It was getting closer.

      Whoosh! Two away.

      WHOOSH!! Next door. A suspicion of the wet smell of steam came to him.

      Hold tight, Bond said to himself. He smothered her in towards him and held his breath.

      Now. Quick. Get it over, damn you.

      And suddenly there was a great pressure and heat and a roaring in the ears and a moment of blazing pain.

      Then dead silence, a mixture of sharp cold and fire on the ankles and hands, a feeling of soaking wet and a desperate, choking effort to get pure air into the lungs.

      Their bodies automatically fought to withdraw from each СКАЧАТЬ