if.liveandletdie-第11节

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but　neither　of　the　guards　slackened　his　grip。　Leiter's　guard　picked　him　bodily　out　of　the　chair　as　if　he　had　been　a　child；　faced　him　to　the　wall　and　slammed　him　into　it。　It　nearly　smashed　Leiter's　nose。　The　guard　swung　him　round。　Blood　was　streaming　down　over　his　mouth。
　The　two　guns　were　still　trained　unwaveringly　on　them。　It　had　been　a　futile　effort；　but　for　a　split　second　they　had　regained　the　initiative　and　effaced　the　sudden　shock　of　capture。
　'Don'　waste　yo　breff；'　said　the　negro　who　had　been　giving　the　orders。　'Take　da　Limey　away。'　He　addressed　Bond's　guard。　'Mr。　Big's　waiten'。'　He　turned　to　Leiter。
　'Yo　kin　tell　yo　fren'　goodbye；'　he　said。　'Yo　is　unlikely　be　seein'　yoselves　agin。'
　Bond　smiled　at　Leiter。　'Lucky　we　made　a　date　for　the　police　to　meet　us　here　at　two；'　he　said。　'See　you　at　the　lineup。'
　Leiter　grinned　back。　His　teeth　were　red　with　blood。　'missioner　Monahan's　going　to　be　pleased　with　this　bunch。　Be　seeing　you。'
　'Crap；'　said　the　negro　with　conviction。　'Get　goin'。'
　Bond's　guard　whipped　him　round　and　shoved　him　against　a　section　of　the　wall。　It　opened　on　a　pivot　into　a　long　bare　passage。　The　man　called　Tee…Hee　pushed　past　them　and　led　the　way。
　The　door　swung　to　behind　them。
　
　CHAPTER　VII
　MISTER　BIG
　
　THEIR　footsteps　echoed　down　the　stone　passage。　At　the　end　there　was　a　door。　They　went　through　into　another　long　passage　lit　by　an　occasional　bare　bulb　in　the　roof。　Another　door　and　they　found　themselves　in　a　large　warehouse。　Cases　and　bales　were　stacked　in　neat　piles。　There　were　runways　for　overhead　cranes。　From　the　markings　on　the　crates　it　seemed　to　be　a　liquor　store。　They　followed　an　aisle　across　to　an　iron　door。　The　man　called　Tee…Hee　rang　a　bell。　There　was　absolute　silence。　Bond　guessed　they　must　have　walked　at　least　a　block　away　from　the　night　club。
　There　was　a　clang　of　bolts　and　the　door　opened。　A　negro　in　evening　dress　with　a　gun　in　his　hand　stepped　aside　and　they　went　through　into　a　carpeted　hallway。
　'Yo　kin　go　on　in；　Tee…Hee；'　said　the　man　in　evening　dress。
　Tee…Hee　knocked　on　a　door　facing　them；　opened　it　and　led　the　way　through。
　In　a　high…backed　chair；　behind　an　expensive　desk；　Mr。　Big　sat　looking　quietly　at　them。
　'Good　morning；　Mister　James　Bond。'　The　voice　was　deep　and　soft。　'Sit　down。'
　Bond's　guard　led　him　across　the　thick　carpet　to　a　low　armchair　in　leather　and　tubular　steel。　He　released　Bond's　arms　and　Bond　sat　down　and　faced　The　Big　Man　across　the　wide　desk。
　'It　was　a　blessed　relief　to　be　rid　of　the　two　vice…like　hands。　All　sensation　had　left　Bond's　forearms。　He　let　them　hang　beside　him　and　weled　the　dull　pain　as　the　blood　started　to　flow　again。
　Mr。　Big　sat　looking　at　him；　his　huge　head　resting　against　the　back　of　the　tall　chair。　He　said　nothing。
　Bond　at　once　realized　that　the　photographs　had　conveyed　nothing　of　this　man；　nothing　of　the　power　and　the　intellect　which　seemed　to　radiate　from　him；　nothing　of　the　over…size　features。
　It　was　a　great　football　of　a　head；　twice　the　normal　size　and　very　nearly　round。　The　skin　was　grey…black；　taut　and　shining　like　the　face　of　a　week…old　corpse　in　the　river。　It　was　hairless；　except　for　some　grey…brown　fluff　above　the　ears。　There　were　no　eyebrows　and　no　eyelashes　and　the　eyes　were　extraordinarily　far　apart　so　that　one　could　not　focus　on　them　both；　but　only　on　one　at　a　time。　Their　gaze　was　very　steady　and　penetrating。　When　they　rested　on　something；　they　seemed　to　devour　it；　to　enpass　the　whole　of　it。　They　bulged　slightly　and　the　irises　were　golden　round　black　pupils　which　were　now　wide。　They　were　animal　eyes；　not　human；　and　they　seemed　to　blaze。
　The　nose　was　wide　without　being　particularly　negroid。　The　nostrils　did　not　gape　at　you。　The　lips　were　only　slightly　everted；　but　thick　and　dark。　They　opened　only　when　the　man　spoke　and　then　they　opened　wide　and　drew　back　from　the　teeth　and　the　pale　pink　gums。
　There　were　few　wrinkles　or　creases　on　the　face；　but　there　were　two　deep　clefts　above　the　nose；　the　clefts　of　concentration。　Above　them　the　forehead　bulged　slightly　before　merging　with　the　polished；　hairless　crown。
　Curiously；　there　was　nothing　disproportionate　about　the　monstrous　head。　It　was　carried　on　a　wide；　short　neck　supported　by　the　shoulders　of　a　giant。　Bond　knew　from　the　records　that　he　was　six　and　a　half　foot　tall　and　weighed　twenty　stone；　and　that　little　of　it　was　fat。　But　the　total　impression　was　awe…inspiring；　even　terrifying；　and　Bond　could　imagine　that　so　ghastly　a　misfit　must　have　been　bent　since　childhood　on　revenge　against　fate　and　against　the　world　that　hated　because　it　feared　him。
　The　Big　Man　was　draped　in　a　dinner…jacket。　There　was　a　hint　of　vanity　in　the　diamonds　that　blazed　on　his　shirt…front　and　at　his　cuffs。　His　huge　flat　hands　rested　half…curled　on　the　table　in　front　of　him。　There　were　no　signs　of　cigarettes　or　an　ash…tray　and　the　smell　of　the　room　was　neutral。　There　was　nothing　on　the　desk　save　a　large　inter　with　about　twenty　switches　and；　incongruously；　a　very　small　ivory　riding…crop　with　a　long　thin　white　lash。
　Mr。　Big　gazed　with　silent　and　deep　concentration　across　the　table　at　Bond。
　After　inspecting　him　carefully　in　return；　Bond　glanced　round　the　room。
　It　was　full　of　books；　spacious　and　restful　and　very　quiet；　like　the　library　of　a　millionaire。
　There　was　one　high　window　above　Mr。　Big's　head　but　otherwise　the　walls　were　solid　with　bookshelves。　Bond　turned　round　in　his　chair。　More　bookshelves；　packed　with　books。　There　was　no　sign　of　a　door；　but　there　might　have　been　any　number　of　doors　faced　with　dummy　books。　The　two　negroes　who　had　brought　him　to　the　room　stood　rather　uneasily　against　the　wall　behind　his　chair。　The　whites　of　their　eyes　showed。　They　were　not　looking　at　Mr。　Big；　but　at　a　curious　effigy　which　stood　on　a　table　in　an　open　space　of　floor　to　the　right；　and　slightly　behind　Mr。　Big。
　Even　with　his　slight　knowledge　of　Voodoo；　Bond　recognized　it　at　once　from　Leigh　Fermor's　description。
　A　five…foot　white　wooden　cross　stood　on　a　raised　white　pedestal。　The　arms　of　the　cross　were　thrust　into　the　sleeves　of　a　dusty　black　frock…coat　whose　tails　hung　down　behind　the　table　towards　the　floor。　Above　the　neck　of　the　coat　a　battered　bowler　hat　gaped　at　him；　its　crown　pierced　by　the　vertical　bar　of　the　cross。　A　few　inches　below　the　rim；　round　the　neck　of　the　cross；　resting　on　the　cross…bar；　was　a　deep　starched　clergyman's　collar。
　At　the　base　of　the　white　pedestal；　on　the　table；　lay　an　old　pair　of　lemon…coloured　gloves。　A　short　malacca　stick　with　a　gold　knob；　its　ferrule　resting　beside　the　gloves；　rose　against　the　left　shoulder　of　the　effigy。　Also　on　the　table　was　a　battered　black　top　hat。
　This　evil　scarecrow　gazed　out　across　the　room　…　God　of　the　Cemeteries　and　Chief　of　the　Legion　of　the　Dead…Baron　Samedi。　Even　to　Bond　it　seemed　to　carry　a　dreadful　gaping　message。
　Bond　looked　away；　back　to　the　great　grey…black　face　across　the　desk。
　Mr。　Big　spoke。
　'I　want　you；　Tee…Hee。'　His　eyes　shifted。　'You　can　go；　Miami。'
　'Yes；　Sir；　Boss；'　they　both　said　together。
　Bond　heard　a　door　open　and　close。
　Silence　fell　again。　At　first；　Mr。　Big's　eyes　had　been　focused　sharply　on　Bond。　They　had　examined　him　minutely。　Now；　Bond　noticed　that　though　the　eyes　rested　on　him　they　had　bee　slightly　opaque。　They　gazed　upon　Bond　without　perception。　Bond　had　the　impression　that　the　brain　behind　them　was　occupied　elsewhere。
　Bond　was　determined　not　to　be　disconcerted。　Feeling　had　returned　to　his　hands　and　he　moved　them　towards　his　body　to　reach　for　his　cigarettes　and　lighter。
　Mr。　Big　spoke。
　'You　may　smoke；　Mister　Bond。　In　case　you　have　any　other　intentions　you　may　care　to　lean　forward　and　inspect　the　keyhole　of　the　drawer　in　this　desk　facing　your　chair。　I　shall　be　ready　for　you　in　a　moment。'
　Bond　leant　forward。　It　was　a　large　keyhole。　In　fact；　Bond　estimated；　。45　centimetres　in　diameter。　Fired；　Bond　supposed；　by　a　foot…switch　under　the　desk。　What　a　bunch　of　tricks　this　man　was。　Puerile。　Puerile？　Perhaps；　after　all；　not　to　be　dismissed　so　easily。　The　tricks　…　the　bomb；　the　disappearing　table　…　had　worked　neatly；　efficiently。　They　had　not　been　just　empty　conceits；　designed　to　impress。　Again；　there　was　nothing　absurd　about　this　gun。　Rather　painstaking；　perhaps；　but；　he　had　to　admit；　technically　sound。
　He　lit　a　cigarette　and　gratefully　drew　the　smoke　deep　into　his　lungs。　He　did　not　feel　particularly　worried　by　his　position。　He　refused　to　believe　he　would　e　to　any　harm。　It　would　be　a　clumsy　affair　to　have　him　disappear　a　couple　of　days　after　he　arrived　from　England　unless　a　very　expert　accident　could　be　contrived。　And　Leiter　would　have　to　be　disposed　of　at　the　same　time。　That　would　be　altogether　too　much　for　their　two　Services　and　Mr。　Big　must　know　it。　But　he　was　worried　about　Leiter　in　the　hands　of　those　clumsy　black　apes。
　The　Big　Man's　lips　rolled　slowly　back　from　his　teeth。
　'I　have　not　seen　a　member　of　the　Secret　Service　for　many　years；　Mister　Bond。　Not　since　the　war。　Your　Service　did　well　in　the　war。　You　have　some　able　men。　I　learn　from　my　friends　that　you　are　high　up　in　your　Service。　You　have　a　double…o　number；　I　believe　…　007；　if　I　remember　right。　The　significance　of　that　double…o　number；　they　tell　me；　is　that　you　have　had　to　kill　a　man　in　the　course　of　some　as