if.liveandletdie-第4节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Bond　had　gone　straight　down　to　mander　Damon；　Head　of　Station　A；　an　alert　Canadian　who　controlled　the　link　with　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency；　America's　Secret　Service。
　Damon　looked　up　from　his　desk。　'I　see　you've　bought　it；'　he　said；　looking　at　the　folder。　'Thought　you　would。　Sit　down；'　he　waved　to　an　armchair　beside　the　electric　fire。　'When　you've　waded　through　it　all；　I'll　fill　in　the　gaps。'
　
　CHAPTER　III
　A　VISITING…CARD
　
　AND　now　it　was　ten　days　later　and　the　talk　with　Dexter　and　Leiter　had　not　added　much；　reflected　Bond　as　he　awoke　slowly　and　luxuriously　in　his　bedroom　at　the　St。　Regis　the　morning　after　his　arrival　in　New　York。
　Dexter　had　had　plenty　of　detail　on　Mr。　Big；　but　nothing　that　threw　any　new　light　on　the　case。　Mr。　Big　was　forty…five　years　old；　born　in　Haiti；　half　negro　and　half　French。　Because　of　the　initial　letters　of　his　fanciful　name；　Buonaparte　Ignace　Gallia；　and　because　of　his　huge　height　and　bulk；　he　came　to　be　called；　even　as　a　youth；　'Big　Boy'　or　just　'Big'。　Later　this　became　'The　Big　Man'　or　'Mr。　Big'；　and　his　real　names　lingered　only　on　a　parish　register　in　Haiti　and　on　his　dossier　with　the　FBI。　He　had　no　known　vices　except　women；　whom　he　consumed　in　quantities。　He　didn't　drink　or　smoke　。and　his　only　Achilles　heel　appeared　to　be　a　chronic　heart　disease　which　had；　in　recent　years；　imparted　a　greyish　tinge　to　his　skin。
　The　Big　Boy　had　been　initiated　into　Voodoo　as　a　child；　earned　his　living　as　a　truck…driver　in　Port　au　Prince；　then　emigrated　to　America　and　worked　successfully　for　a　hi…jacking　team　in　the　Legs　Diamond　gang。　With　the　end　of　Prohibition　he　had　moved　to　Harlem　and　bought　half…shares　in　a　small　nightclub　and　a　string　of　coloured　call…girls。　His　partner　was　found　in　a　barrel　of　cement　in　the　Harlem　River　in　1938　and　Mr。　Big　automatically　became　sole　proprietor　of　the　business。　He　was　called　up　in　1943　and；　because　of　his　excellent　French；　came　to　the　notice　of　the　Office　of　Strategic　Services；　the　wartime　secret　service　of　America；　who　trained　him　with　great　thoroughness　and　put　him　into　Marseilles　as　an　agent　against　the　Petain　collaborationists。　He　merged　easily　with　African　negro　dock…hands；　and　worked　well；　providing　good　and　accurate　naval　intelligence。　He　operated　closely　with　a　Soviet　spy　who　was　doing　a　similar　job　for　the　Russians。　At　the　end　of　the　war　he　was　demobilized　in　France　（and　decorated　by　the　Americans　and　the　French）　and　then　he　disappeared　for　five　years；　probably　to　Moscow。　He　returned　to　Harlem　in　1950　and　soon　came　to　the　notice　of　the　FBI　as　a　suspected　Soviet　agent。　But　he　never　incriminated　himself　or　fell　into　any　of　the　traps　laid　by　the　FBI。　He　bought　up　three　nightclubs　and　a　prosperous　chain　of　Harlem　brothels。　He　seemed　to　have　unlimited　funds　and　paid　all　his　lieutenants　a　flat　rate　of　twenty　thousand　dollars　a　year。　Accordingly；　and　as　a　result　of　weeding　by　murder；　he　was　expertly　and　diligently　served。　He　was　known　to　have　originated　an　underground　Voodoo　temple　in　Harlem　and　to　have　established　a　link　between　it　and　the　main　cult　in　Haiti。　The　rumour　had　started　that　he　was　the　Zombie　or　living　corpse　of　Baron　Samedi　himself；　the　dreaded　Prince　of　Darkness；　and　he　fostered　the　story　so　that　now　it　was　accepted　through　all　the　lower　strata　of　the　negro　world。　As　a　result；　he　manded　real　fear；　strongly　substantiated　by　the　immediate　and　often　mysterious　deaths　of　anyone　who　crossed　him　or　disobeyed　his　orders。
　Bond　had　questioned　Dexter　and　Leiter　very　closely　on　the　evidence　connecting　the　giant　negro　with　SMERSH。　It　certainly　seemed　conclusive。
　In　1951；　by　the　promise　of　one　million　dollars　in　gold　and　a　safe　refuge　after　six　months'　work　for　them；　the　FBI　had　at　last　persuaded　a　known　Soviet　agent　of　the　MWD　to　turn　double。　All　went　well　for　a　month　and　the　results　exceeded　the　highest　expectations。　The　Russian　spy　held　the　appointment　of　an　economic　expert　on　the　Soviet　delegation　to　the　United　Nations。　One　Saturday；　he　had　gone　to　take　the　subway　to　Pennsylvania　Station　en　route　for　the　Soviet　week…end　rest　camp　at　Glen　Cove；　the　former　Morgan　estate　on　Long　Island。
　A　huge　negro；　positively　identified　from　photographs　as　The　Big　Man；　had　stood　beside　him　on　the　platform　as　the　train　came　in　and　was　seen　walking　towards　the　exit　even　before　the　first　coach　had　e　to　a　standstill　over　the　bloody　vestiges　of　the　Russian。　He　had　not　been　seen　to　push　the　man；　but　in　the　crowd　it　would　not　have　been　difficult。　Spectators　said　it　could　not　have　been　suicide。　The　man　screamed　horribly　as　he　fell　and　he　had　had　（melancholy　touch！）　a　bag　of　golf　clubs　over　his　shoulder。　The　Big　Man；　of　course；　had　had　an　alibi　as　solid　as　Fort　Knox。　He　had　been　held　and　questioned；　but　was　quickly　sprung　by　the　best　lawyer　in　Harlem。
　The　evidence　was　good　enough　for　Bond。　He　was　just　the　man　for　SMERSH；　with　just　the　training。　A　real；　hard　weapon　of　fear　and　death。　And　what　a　brilliant　set…up　for　dealing　with　the　smaller　fry　of　the　negro　underworld　and　for　keeping　a　coloured　information　network　well　up　to　the　mark！　…　the　fear　of　Voodoo　and　the　supernatural；　still　deeply；　primevally　ingrained　in　the　negro　subconscious！　And　what　genius　to　have；　as　a　beginning；　the　whole　transport　system　of　America　under　surveillance；　the　trains；　the　porters；　the　truck…drivers；　the　stevedores！　To　have　at　his　disposal　a　host　of　key　men　who　would　have　no　idea　that　the　questions　they　answered　had　been　asked　by　Russia。　Smalltime　professional　men　who；　if　they　thought　at　all；　would　guess　that　the　information　on　freights　and　schedules　was　being　sold　to　rival　transport　concerns。
　Not　for　the　first　time；　Bond　felt　his　spine　crawl　at　the　cold；　brilliant　efficiency　of　the　Soviet　machine；　and　at　the　fear　of　death　and　torture　which　made　it　work　and　of　which　the　supreme　engine　was　SMERSH　…　SMERSH；　the　very　whisper　of　death。
　Now；　in　his　bedroom　at　the　St。　Regis；　Bond　shook　away　his　thoughts　and　jumped　impatiently　out　of　bed。　Well；　there　was　one　of　them　at　hand；　ready　for　the　crushing。　At　Royale　he　had　only　caught　a　glimpse　of　his　man。　This　time　it　would　be　face　to　face。　Big　Man？　Then　let　it　be　a　giant；　a　homeric　slaying。
　Bond　walked　over　to　the　window　and　pulled　back　the　curtains。　His　room　faced　north；　towards　Harlem。　Bond　gazed　for　a　moment　towards　the　northern　horizon；　where　another　man　would　be　in　his　bedroom　asleep；　or　perhaps　awake　and　thinking　conceivably　of　him；　Bond；　whom　he　had　seen　with　Dexter　on　the　steps　of　the　hotel。　Bond　looked　at　the　beautiful　day　and　smiled。　And　no　man；　not　even　Mr。　Big；　would　have　liked　the　expression　on　his　face。
　Bond　shrugged　his　shoulders　and　walked　quickly　to　the　telephone。
　'St。　Regis　Hotel。　Good　morning；'　said　a　voice。
　'Room　Service；　please；'　said　Bond。
　'Room　Service？　I'd　like　to　order　breakfast。　Half　a　pint　of　orange　juice；　three　eggs；　lightly　scrambled；　with　bacon；　a　double　portion　of　cafe　Espresso　with　cream。　Toast。　Marmalade。　Got　it？'
　The　order　was　repeated　back　to　him。　Bond　walked　out　into　the　lobby　and　picked　up　the　five　pounds'　weight　of　newspapers　which　had　been　placed　quietly　inside　the　door　earlier　in　the　morning。　There　was　also　a　pile　of　parcels　on　the　hall　table　which　Bond　disregarded。
　The　afternoon　before　he　had　had　to　submit　to　a　certain　degree　of　Americanization　at　the　hands　of　the　FBI。　A　tailor　had　e　and　measured　him　for　two　single…breasted　suits　in　dark　blue　light…weight　worsted　（Bond　had　firmly　refused　anything　more　dashing）　and　a　haberdasher　had　brought　chilly　white　nylon　shirts　with　long　points　to　the　collars。　He　had　had　to　accept　half　a　dozen　unusually　patterned　foulard　ties；　dark　socks　with　fancy　clocks；　two　or　three　'display　kerchiefs'　for　his　breast　pocket；　nylon　vests　and　pants　（called　T…shirts　and　shorts）；　a　fortable　light…weight　camel…hair　overcoat　with　over…buttressed　shoulders；　a　plain　grey　snap…brim　Fedora　with　a　thin　black　ribbon　and　two　pairs　of　hand…stitched　and　very　fortable　black　Moccasin　'casuals'。
　He　also　acquired　a　'Swank'　tie…clip　in　the　shape　of　a　whip；　an　alligator…skin　billfold　from　Mark　Cross；　a　plain　Zippo　lighter；　a　plastic　'Travel…Pak'　containing　razor；　hairbrush　and　toothbrush；　a　pair　of　horn…rimmed　glasses　with　plain　lenses；　various　other　oddments　and；　finally；　a　light…weight　Hartmann　'Skymate'　suitcase　to　contain　all　these　things。
　He　was　allowed　to　retain　his　own　Beretta　。25　with　the　skeleton　grip　and　the　chamois　leather　shoulder…holster；　but　all　his　other　possessions　were　to　be　collected　at　midday　and　forwarded　down　to　Jamaica　to　await　him。
　He　was　given　a　military　haircut　and　was　told　that　he　was　a　New　Englander　from　Boston　and　that　he　was　on　holiday　from　his　job　with　the　London　office　of　the　Guaranty　Trust　pany。　He　was　reminded　to　ask　for　the　'check'　rather　the　'bill'；　to　say　'cab'　instead　of　'taxi'　and　（this　from　Leiter）　to　avoid　words　of　more　than　two　syllables。　（'You　can　get　through　any　American　conversation；'　advised　Leiter；　'with　〃Yeah〃；　〃Nope〃　and　〃Sure〃。'）　The　English　word　to　be　avoided　at　all　costs；　added　Leiter；　was　'Ectually'。　Bond　had　said　that　this　word　was　not　part　of　his　vocabulary。
　Bond　looked　grimly　at　the　pile　of　parcels　which　contained　his　new　identity；　stripped　off　his　pyjamas　for　the　last　time　（'We　mostly　sleep　in　the　raw　in　America；　Mr。　Bond'