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The sun blinded them. He closed them again. A voice above and behind his head
said, 'Watch it, bud. That ramp's steeper than it looks.' Almost immediately
there was a heavy jolt. A surly voice in front said, 'Cheesus, you're telling
me. Why in hell can't they put down rubber.'
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Bond thought angrily, that's a fine way to talk up here. Just because I'm new
and they think no one's listening.
There was the bang of a swing door. Something hit Bond sharply on a protruding
elbow. He shouted 'Hey!' and tried to reach his elbow and rub it, but his
hands wouldn't move.
'Whaddya know. Hey, Sam, better call the doc. This one's come round.'
'Sure! Here, put him alongside the other.' Bond felt himself being lowered. It
was cooler now. He opened his eyes. A big round Brooklyn face was bent over
his. The eyes met his and smiled. The metal supports of the stretcher touched
the ground.
The man said, 'How ya feelin', mister?'
'Where am I?' Now there was panic in Bond's voice. He tried to rise but
couldn't. He felt the sweat break out on his body.
God! Was this still part of the old life? At the thought of it, a wave of
grief poured through his body. Tears burned his eyes and trickled down his
cheeks.
'Hey, hey! Take it easy, mister. You're okay. This is Idlewild, New York.
You're in America now. No more troubles, see.'
49
The man straightened up. He thought Bond was a refugee from somewhere. 'Sam,
get movin'. This guy's in shock.'
'Okay, okay.' The two voices receded, mumbling anxiously.
Bond found he could move his head. He looked round. He was in a white-painted
ward - presumably something to do with the health department of the airport.
There was a row of tidy beds. Sun poured down from high windows, but it was
cool, air-
conditioned. He was on a stretcher on the floor. There was another one next to
it. He strained his head sideways. It was Tilly.
She was unconscious. Her pale face, framed in black hair, pointed at the
ceiling.
The door at the end of the ward sighed open. A doctor in a white coat stood
and held it. Goldfinger, looking brisk, cheerful, walked swiftly down between
the beds. He was followed by Oddjob. Bond wearily closed his eyes. Christ! So
that was the score.
Feet gathered round his stretcher. Goldfinger said breezily, 'Well, they
certainly look in good shape, eh, Doctor? That's one of the blessings of
having enough money. When one's friends or one's staff are ill one can get
them the very best medical attention. Nervous breakdowns, both of them. And in
the same week! Would you believe it? But I blame myself for working them both
too hard. Now it's my duty to get them back on their feet again. Dr Foch -
he's the best man in Geneva, by the way -
was quite definite. He said, "They need rest, Mr Goldfinger. Rest, rest and
again rest." He gave them sedatives and now they're on their way to the
Harkness Pavilion at the Presbyterian.' Goldfinger chuckled fatly. 'Sow and
you shall reap, eh, Doctor?
When I gave the Harkness a million dollars' worth of X-ray equipment, I
certainly never expected anything back. But now? I
only had to put through a call and they've got two fine rooms waiting for
them. Now then' - there was a rustle of notes -'thank you for all your help
with Immigration. Fortunately they both had valid visas and I think
Immigration was satisfied that Mr
Auric Goldfinger was a sufficient guarantee that neither of them wants to
overthrow the United States Government by force, what?'
'Yes indeed, and thank you Mr Goldfinger. Anything I can do& I understand you
have a private ambulance waiting outside.'
Bond opened his eyes and looked at where the doctor's voice came from. He saw
a pleasant, serious young man with rimless glasses and a crew-cut. Bond said
quietly and with desperate sincerity, 'Doctor, there is absolutely nothing
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wrong with me or this girl. We have been drugged and brought here against our
will. Neither of us works or has ever worked for Goldfinger. I am warning you
that we have been kidnapped. I demand to see the Chief of Immigration. I have
friends in Washington and New
York. They will vouch for me. I beg of you to believe me.' Bond held the man's
eyes in his, willing him to believe;
The doctor looked worried. He turned to Goldfinger. Goldfinger shook his head
- discreetly so that Bond would not be insulted. A surreptitious hand went up
and tapped the side of his head away from Bond. Goldfinger raised helpless
eyebrows.
'You see what I mean, Doctor? It's been like this for days. Total nervous
prostration combined with persecution mania. Dr
Foch said they often go together. It may need weeks at the Harkness. But I'm
going to pull him round if it's the last thing I do.
It's the shock of these unfamiliar surroundings. Perhaps a shot of intraval
sodium& '
The doctor bent to his black bag. 'I guess you're right, Mr Goldfinger. So
long as Harkness is looking after the case.' There came the tinkle of
instruments.
Goldfinger said, 'It's terribly sad to see a man break down so utterly, a man
who has been one of my best assistants.' He bent a sweet, fatherly smile on
Bond. There was a catch in his voice. 'You'll be all right, James. Just relax
and have a nice sleep. I
was afraid the flight might be too much for you. Just relax and leave
everything to me.' .
Bond felt the swab on his arm. He heaved. Against his will, a shower of curses
poured from his lips. Then he felt the needle and opened his mouth and
screamed and screamed while the doctor knelt beside him and delicately,
patiently, wiped away the sweat from his forehead.
Now it was a grey painted box of a room. There were no windows. Light came
from a single lamp inset in the centre of the ceiling. Round the lamp were
concentric slits in the plaster and there was the neutral smell and faint hum
of air-conditioning.
Bond found he could sit up. He did so. He felt drowsy but well. He suddenly
realized that he was ravenously hungry and thirsty. When had he last had a
meal? Two, three days ago? He put his feet down on the floor. He was naked. He
examined his body. Oddjob had been careful. There was no sign of damage save
for the group of needle-.marks on his right forearm. He got up, conquering
dizziness, and took a few steps in the room. He had been lying on a ship's
type bunk with drawers under it. The only other furniture in the room was a
plain deal table and an upright wooden chair. Everything was clean,
functional, Spartan.
Bond knelt to die drawers under the bunk and opened them. They contained all
the contents of his suitcase except his watch and the gun. Even the rather
heavy shoes he had been wearing on his expedition to Entreprises Auric were
there. He twisted one of the heels and pulled. The broad double-sided knife
slid smoothly out of its scabbard in the sole. With the fingers wrapped round
the locked heel it made a workmanlike stabbing dagger. Bond verified that the
other shoe held its knife and clicked the heels back into position. He pulled
ouj: some clothes and put them on. He found his cigarette case and lighter and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]