if.goldfinger-第1节

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　To
　my　gentle　Reader
　William　Plomer
　
　PART　ONE：　HAPPENSTANCE
　
　CHAPTER　ONE
　
　REFLECTIONS　IN　A　DOUBLE　BOURBON
　
　JAMES　BOND；　with　two　double　bourbons　inside　him；　sat　in　the　final　departure　lounge　of　Miami　Airport　and　thought　about　life　and　death。
　It　was　part　of　his　profession　to　kill　people。　He　had　never　liked　doing　it　and　when　he　had　to　kill　he　did　it　as　well　as　he　knew　how　and　forgot　about　it。　As　a　secret　agent　who　held　the　rare　double…O　prefix　…　the　licence　to　kill　in　the　Secret　Service　…　it　was　his　duty　to　be　as　cool　about　death　as　a　surgeon。　If　it　happened；　it　happened。　Regret　was　unprofessional　…　worse；　it　was　death…watch　beetle　in　the　soul。
　And　yet　there　had　been　something　curiously　impressive　about　the　death　of　the　Mexican。　It　wasn't　that　he　hadn't　deserved　to　die。　He　was　an　evil　man；　a　man　they　call　in　Mexico　a　capungo。　A　capungo　is　a　bandit　who　will　kill　for　as　little　as　forty　pesos；　which　is　about　twenty…five　shillings　…though　probably　he　had　been　paid　more　to　attempt　the　killing　of　Bond　…　and；　from　the　look　of　him；　he　had　been　an　instrument　of　pain　and　misery　all　his　life。　Yes；　it　had　certainly　been　time　for　him　to　die；　but　when　Bond　had　killed　him；　less　than　twenty…four　hours　before；　life　had　gone　out　of　the　body　so　quickly；　so　utterly；　that　Bond　had　almost　seen　it　e　out　of　his　mouth　as　it　does；　in　the　shape　of　a　bird；　in　Haitian　primitives。
　What　an　extraordinary　difference　there　was　between　a　body　full　of　person　and　a　body　that　was　empty！　Now　there　is　someone；　now　there　is　no　one。　This　had　been　a　Mexican　with　a　name　and　an　address；　an　employment　card　and　perhaps　a　driving　licence。　Then　something　had　gone　out　of　him；　out　of　the　envelope　of　flesh　and　cheap　clothes；　and　had　left　him　an　empty　paper　bag　waiting　for　the　dustcart。　And　the　difference；　the　thing　that　had　gone　out　of　the　stinking　Mexican　bandit；　was　greater　than　all　Mexico。
　Bond　looked　down　at　the　weapon　that　had　done　it。　The　cutting　edge　of　his　right　hand　was　red　and　swollen。　It　would　soon　show　a　bruise。　Bond　flexed　the　hand；　kneading　it　with　his　left。　He　had　been　doing　the　same　thing　at　intervals　through　the　quick　plane　trip　that　had　got　him　away。　It　was　a　painful　process；　but　if　he　kept　the　circulation　moving　the　hand　would　heal　more　quickly。　One　couldn't　tell　how　soon　the　weapon　would　be　needed　again。　Cynicism　gathered　at　the　corners　of　Bond's　mouth。
　'National　Airlines；　〃Airline　of　the　Stars〃；　announces　the　departure　of　their　flight　NA　106　to　La　Guardia　Field；　New　York。　Will　all　passengers　please　proceed　to　gate　number　seven。　All　aboard；　please。'
　The　Tannoy　switched　off　with　an　echoing　click。　Bond　glanced　at　his　watch。　At　least　another　ten　minutes　before　Transamerica　would　be　called。　He　signalled　to　a　waitress　and　ordered　another　double　bourbon　on　the　rocks。　When　the　wide；　chunky　glass　came；　he　swirled　the　liquor　round　for　the　ice　to　blunt　it　down　and　swallowed　half　of　it。　He　stubbed　out　the　butt　of　his　cigarette　and　sat；　his　chin　resting　on　his　left　hand；　and　gazed　moodily　across　the　twinkling　tarmac　to　where　the　last　half　of　the　sun　was　slipping　gloriously　into　the　Gulf。
　The　death　of　the　Mexican　had　been　the　finishing　touch　to　a　bad　assignment；　one　of　the　worst　…　squalid；　dangerous　and　without　any　redeeming　feature　except　that　it　had　got　him　away　from　headquarters。
　A　big　man　in　Mexico　had　some　poppy　fields。　The　flowers　were　not　for　decoration。　They　were　broken　down　for　opium　which　was　sold　quickly　and　paratively　cheaply　by　the　waiters　at　a　small　cafe　in　Mexico　City　called　the　'Madre　de　Cacao'。　The　Madre　de　Cacao　had　plenty　of　protection。　If　you　needed　opium　you　walked　in　and　ordered　what　you　wanted　with　your　drink。　You　paid　for　your　drink　at　the　caisse　and　the　man　at　the　caisse　told　you　how　many　noughts　to　add　to　your　bill。　It　was　an　orderly　merce　of　no　concern　to　anyone　outside　Mexico。　Then；　far　away　in　England；　the　Government；　urged　on　by　the　United　Nations'　drive　against　drug　smuggling；　announced　that　heroin　would　be　banned　in　Britain。　There　was　alarm　in　Soho　and　also　among　respectable　doctors　who　wanted　to　save　their　patients　agony。　Prohibition　is　the　trigger　of　crime。　Very　soon　the　routine　smuggling　channels　from　China；　Turkey　and　Italy　were　ran　almost　dry　by　the　illicit　stock…piling　in　England。　In　Mexico　City；　a　pleasant…spoken　Import　and　Export　merchant　called　Black…well　had　a　sister　in　England　who　was　a　heroin　addict。　He　loved　her　and　was　sorry　for　her　and；　when　she　wrote　that　she　would　die　if　someone　didn't　help；　he　believed　that　she　wrote　the　truth　and　set　about　investigating　the　illicit　dope　traffic　in　Mexico。　In　due　course；　through　friends　and　friends　of　friends；　he　got　to　the　Madre　de　Cacao　and　on　from　there　to　the　big　Mexican　grower。　In　the　process；　he　came　to　know　about　the　economics　of　the　trade；　and　he　decided　that　if　he　could　make　a　fortune　and　at　the　same　time　help　suffering　humanity　he　had　found　the　Secret　of　Life。　Blackwell's　business　was　in　fertilizers。　He　had　a　warehouse　and　a　small　plant　and　a　staff　of　three　for　soil　testing　and　plant　research。　It　was　easy　to　persuade　the　big　Mexican　that；　behind　this　respectable　front；　Blackwell's　team　could　busy　itself　extracting　heroin　from　opium。　Carriage　to　England　was　swiftly　arranged　by　the　Mexican。　For　the　equivalent　of　a　thousand　pounds　a　trip；　every　month　one　of　the　diplomatic　couriers　of　the　Ministry　of　Foreign　Affairs　carried　an　extra　suitcase　to　London。　The　price　was　reasonable。　The　contents　of　the　suitcase；　after　the　Mexican　had　deposited　it　at　the　Victoria　Station　left…luggage　office　and　had　mailed　the　ticket　to　a　man　called　Schwab；　c/o　Boox…an…Pix；　Ltd；　WC1；　were　worth　twenty　thousand　pounds。
　Unfortunately　Schwab　was　a　bad　man；　unconcerned　with　suffering　humanity。　He　had　the　idea　that　if　American　juvenile　delinquents　could　consume　millions　of　dollars'　worth　of　heroin　every　year；　so　could　their　Teddy　boy　and　girl　cousins。　In　two　rooms　in　Pimlico；　his　staff　watered　the　heroin　with　stomach　powder　and　sent　it　on　its　way　to　the　dance　halls　and　amusement　arcades。
　Schwab　had　already　made　a　fortune　when　the　CID　Ghost　Squad　got　on　to　him。　Scotland　Yard　decided　to　let　him　make　a　little　more　money　while　they　investigated　the　source　of　his　supply。　They　put　a　close　tail　on　Schwab　and　in　due　course　were　led　to　Victoria　Station　and　thence　to　the　Mexican　courier。　At　that　stage；　since　a　foreign　country　was　concerned；　the　Secret　Service　had　had　to　be　called　in　and　Bond　was　ordered　to　find　out　where　the　courier　got　his　supplies　and　to　destroy　the　channel　at　source。
　Bond　did　as　he　was　told。　He　flew　to　Mexico　City　and　quickly　got　to　the　Madre　de　Cacao。　Thence；　posing　as　a　buyer　for　the　London　traffic；　he　got　back　to　the　big　Mexican。　The　Mexican　received　him　amiably　and　referred　him　to　Blackwell。　Bond　had　rather　taken　to　Blackwell；　He　knew　nothing　about　Blackwell's　sister；　but　the　man　was　obviously　an　amateur　and　his　bitterness　about　the　heroin　ban　in　England　rang　true。　Bond　broke　into　his　warehouse　one　night　and　left　a　thermite　bomb。　He　then　went　and　sat　in　a　cafe　a　mile　away　and　watched　the　flames　leap　above　the　horizon　of　rooftops　and　listened　to　the　silver　cascade　of　the　fire…brigade　bells。　The　next　morning　he　telephoned　Blackwell。　He　stretched　a　handkerchief　across　the　mouthpiece　and　spoke　through　it。
　'Sorry　you　lost　your　business　last　night。　I'm　afraid　your　insurance　won't　cover　those　stocks　of　soil　you　were　researching。'
　'Who's　that？　Who's　speaking？'
　'I'm　from　England。　That　stuff　of　yours　has　killed　quite　a　lot　of　young　people　over　there。　Damaged　a　lot　of　others。　Santos　won't　be　ing　to　England　any　more　with　his　diplomatic　bag。　Schwab　will　be　in　jail　by　tonight。　That　fellow　Bond　you've　been　seeing；　he　won't　get　out　of　the　net　either。　The　police　are　after　him　now。'
　Frightened　words　came　back　down　the　line。
　'All　right；　but　just　don't　do　it　again。　Stick　to　fertilizers。'
　Bond　hung　up。
　Blackwell　wouldn't　have　had　the　wits。　It　was　obviously　the　big　Mexican　who　had　seen　through　the　false　trail。　Bond　had　taken　the　precaution　to　move　his　hotel；　but　that　night；　as　he　walked　home　after　a　last　drink　at　the　Copacabana；　a　man　suddenly　stood　in　his　way。　The　man　wore　a　dirty　white　linen　suit　and　a　chauffeur's　white　cap　that　was　too　big　for　his　head。　There　were　deep　blue　shadows　under　Aztec　cheek…bones。　In　one　corner　of　the　slash　of　a　mouth　there　was　a　toothpick　and　in　the　other　a　cigarette。　The　eyes　were　bright　pinpricks　of　marihuana。
　'You　like　woman？　Make　jigajig？'
　'No。'
　'Coloured　girl？　Fine　jungle　tail？'
　'No。'
　'Mebbe　pictures？'
　The　gesture　of　the　hand　slipping　into　the　coat　was　so　well　known　to　Bond；　so　full　of　old　dangers　that　when　the　hand　flashed　out　and　the　long　silver　finger　went　for　his　throat；　Bond　was　on　balance　and　ready　for　it。
　Almost　automatically；　Bond　went　into　the　'Parry　Defence　against　Underhand　Thrust'　out　of　the　book。　His　right　arm　cut　across；　his　body　swivelling　with　it。　The　two　forearms　met　mid…way　between　the　two　bodies；　banging　the　Mexican's　knife　arm　off　target　and　opening　his　guard　for　a　crashing　short…arm　chin　jab　with　Bond's　left。　Bond's　stiff；　locked　wrist　had　not　travelled　far；　perhaps　two　feet；　but　the　heel　of　his　palm；　with　ringers　spread　for　rigidity；　had　e　up　and　under　the　man's　chin　with　t