James Bond and Moonraker (8 page)

There was a light tap on the door.

Trudi withdrew her hand and sat up. The door opened and James Bond came in. He closed the door behind him and leant against it, surveying her. He wore a navy blue polo-neck pullover and a pair of similarly coloured tropical worsted trousers. Trudi wondered where he had been and, with more immediate interest, where he was going. She pulled a sheet up before her demurely.

‘Mother gave me a comprehensive list of things not to do on a first date.’

Bond smiled his thin, hard smile and crossed to the bed. ‘Maybe you won’t need it. That’s not what I came here for.’

Trudi conquered her disappointment and hoped that no trace of it showed in her voice. ‘What do you want then?’

Bond sat on the bed and looked at her levelly. This time there was more warmth in his smile. ‘Would your feelings be shattered if I said information?’

Trudi forgot about the sheet that slipped down about her waist. ‘Why should I tell you anything?’

Bond leant forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘Because you like me.’

Trudi shook her head in amazement. ‘Who are you?’ She suddenly remembered how good his mouth had tasted. ‘Do that again.’ She leant forward and Bond’s head tilted obligingly. This time the kiss was long and deep. Delicious premonitions of pleasure stirred through her with the touch of warm fingertips. ‘What do you want to know? Is it to do with what happened this afternoon?’ News of the accident on the centrifuge trainer had quickly spread through the installation. Apparently, by some million-toone chance, two circuit break-offs had been transposed when a simple electrical fault was being repaired.

The corner of Bond’s mouth twisted down ruefully. ‘No. Mr Drax has been very generous with his explanations and apologies. It’s what he hasn’t told me that I’m most interested in.’

Trudi was puzzled. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘What goes on here besides the manufacture of the Moonraker and the astronaut training programme?’

‘I still don’t know who you are.’

Bond took a deep breath and decided to make the lie elaborate.

‘I work for the British Aircraft Corporation. Investigating air crashes is my speciality, I’m afraid. There are a few puzzling features about this one and we can’t rule out the possibility that sabotage was involved. It’s mere supposition at the moment and I don’t want to make Mr Drax alarmed.’

Trudi put her hand on Bond’s arm. ‘You mean, what happened to you this afternoon might not have been an accident?’

Bond tried to look grave. ‘That’s a possibility too. It would help me to get an idea of why someone should want to strike at the Drax Corporation if I knew exactly what they’re developing here. I think Mr Drax might misconstrue my interest and, at the moment, I have no definite evidence to put before him. I’m still waiting on our own lab reports of the Alaska wreckage.’

Bond was glad to see Trudi nodding sympathetically. She would clearly like to help. ‘It’s pretty difficult for me to tell you anything,’ she said. ‘Like I said, I’m just Mr Drax’s personal pilot. I know there was a very "top secret" project in one of the laboratories, but everything has been moved now.’

Bond’s pulse quickened. ‘Where to?’

Trudi shook her head. ‘I don’t know. One morning it had gone. All the technicians too. I was surprised nobody told me about it. I’m normally involved with all the flights that come in and out of here. They must have left from the railhead.’

Bond frowned. ‘Where was the laboratory?’

‘If you’re thinking of going and looking at it, you can forget it,’ said Trudi. ‘It was burned out just after the move.’

Bond’s smile was grim. ‘Accidents do happen around here.’

Trudi folded her arms beneath her bosom and leant back against the pillow. ‘It’s most unusual. Normally, nothing very much happens around here.’

Bond raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. That’s why your visit to my room was such an event.’

Bond looked down at the lambent curve of the soft, sensual mouth. It was difficult not to be aroused by the beauty of this girl. There was a need in her eyes too.

‘What about that list of your mother’s?’

Trudi’s arms uncrossed and reached out to slide round his neck. Her lips parted to receive anything that he might wish to give. ‘What mother?’ she breathed.

An hour later Bond was moving silently along the route he had followed with Drax’s butler. He had left Trudi asleep with a seraphic smile plucking at the corner of her mouth and a sheet pulled tight about her naked body. In that pose she had looked like a small child tucked up snug in its cot. It gave a false impression of what she had been like in her waking moments.

Bond paused at the foot of the stairway and listened. He could hear a clock ticking, but nothing else. The hall was lit by moonlight and the busts in the niches peered out like spies. Bond crossed to the door of Drax’s study. No light shone from beneath it. No sound came from within. Bond closed his fingers around the handle and pushed down. There was a soft click and the door opened. Bond paused for a moment and listened again. If by some chance the Dobermann pinschers were still in residence he wanted to give them time to announce their presence. Satisfied that there was no one there, Bond slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. The task before him was daunting. He had no idea what he was looking for and there was enough furniture there to stock an auction room. He crossed to a Louis Quinze escritoire and found it locked. This was not surprising. Neither, after what he had discovered in his room, were the two thin wires running down its back and along the top of the skirting board. The piece was either booby-trapped or attached to an alarm which would go off if anybody tampered with it.

Bond was pondering the alternatives when the door opened quickly behind him. He had hardly sunk to the floor when Trudi came in wearing a long white silk robe and a worried expression. ‘James?’

Bond rose to his feet and Trudi shrank back. Bond quickly placed a finger to his lips. ‘You whetted my appetite.’ She looked puzzled. ‘For information. Is there a safe in here?’

Trudi’s eyes widened. ‘You must be nuts!’

‘Possibly.’ Bond glanced round the room. A handsome gilt wall clock was flanked by two lights. Their position seemed incongruous in terms of the total layout of the room. The clock was not a work of art that cried out for illumination. Bond approached the clock and listened. It was not working.

Trudi watched him like someone who has hidden the object in a game of hunt the thimble. Her face was drawn with anxiety. ‘James -’

‘Would you say I was getting warm?’

‘James! You’ve got to leave.’

Bond reached up and opened the glass front of the face. The face swung with it to reveal that it was no more than a façade. Behind lay the round door of a small safe with a combination dial in the middle of it.

‘So far, so promising,’ said Bond. ‘I don’t imagine you know the combination?’

Trudi shook her head slowly. She was almost hypnotized by fear. ‘I wouldn’t tell you if I did.’

Bond looked at the graceful figure silhouetted against the moonlight and felt a quick pang of sexual hunger. What was it that made a frightened woman so desirable? Psychologists would probably be able to furnish an unflattering reason. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers. ‘All right. I won’t press you.’ A slim rectangular shape had appeared in his right hand and was positioned against the side of the face next to the dial. Trudi saw something glowing and had an impression of superimposed fluorescent lines. It was like looking at an X-ray plate. Bond began to manipulate the dial with his fingertips and the pattern changed. Trudi looked round the room trying to establish that she really was in Hugo Drax’s study and not asleep in her bed dreaming some strange dream. There was a click and the safe door jumped open. Trudi did not wake up. She was still in Drax’s study. She looked at the object in Bond’s hand. ‘That’s amazing.’

Bond pressed it against her left breast and narrowed his eyes as the rectangle glowed. ‘You have a heart of gold.’

Trudi smiled nervously. ‘You won’t need an X-ray machine to see it if Mr Drax catches us here.’

Bond thought that she was probably right. He swung open the door of the safe and peered inside. At first glance it appeared to be empty and his heart sank. Then his probing fingers felt the back wall give and he exerted sideways pressure. The back of the safe slid open to reveal another space behind. It was a clever ruse reminiscent of the secret compartments built into the backs of drawers in period furniture. Bond extended his arm and withdrew a sheet of design paper folded into four.

Trudi was now trembling. ‘For God’s sake, James!’

‘All right.’ Bond’s voice was cold and hard as he shouldered her aside. It was the expression his face had worn at the most passionate moments of their lovemaking. She felt again that there was something frightening about the way in which his mood could suddenly change. To cross this man would be dangerous.

Bond quickly spread the engineering drawing on the nearest flat surface and his eyes sped over it. It showed a sectionalized drawing of a globe with a complicated section around its equator. Alongside was a drawing of a small cylindrical object with a glass phial enclosed in it. ‘Do you know what this is?’

Trudi shook her head. ‘No.’

Bond believed her. He quickly raised something to his eye, and there was a click and a small flash. Almost before Trudi had finished blinking, the drawing was being returned to the safe and the front of the clock swung shut. Bond returned the miniature camera to his pocket. ‘Right. Let’s go.’

‘You go first,’ said Trudi.

Bond hesitated for a moment and then kissed her lightly on the cheek.

‘All right. Look after yourself.’

‘And you.’

Bond moved swiftly to the door and opened it a couple of inches. He paused, listening, and then slipped out. Trudi waited for the sound of his footsteps but heard nothing. Behind her, a clock wound itself up to strike and her heart jumped at the unexpected noise. She looked warily round the moonlit room and crossed to the door. Bond had left it slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath and hearing her pulse thumping, she stepped outside and reached behind her to close the door. She was mere frightened than she had ever been in her life. The door clicked to and the sound seemed to echo through the vast vaulted hall like a pistol shot. Trudi waited for a reciprocal sound, a light to come on, but there was nothing. She stepped away from the incriminating door and almost ran to the foot of the stairs. Like a child playing a game, she told herself that everything would be all right if she could reach the first landing without being seen. She climbed two steps at a time, the weight on her heart lifting with every step. Ahead of her, like a timekeeper on the finishing line, stood a suit of armour, a mace clasped in one of its mailed fists. Trudi swept past it and moved down the long corridor.

Beneath the stairs, Chang emerged from the shadows and looked up before moving ponderously and purposefully towards the door of the study.

The gondola moved smoothly across the Canale di San Marco, and Bond let his gaze drift to the Isola di San Giorgio and the imposing colonnade of its beautiful white Palladian church. On all sides was beauty and a quality of light that Bond only found in Venice. A water bus went by and the waves of its wake made the gondola pitch and toss through the broken reflections of the tall buildings. Bond’s thoughts turned from beauty to duty.

A blow-up of the photograph taken of the blueprint in Drax’s safe had revealed the words VENINI GLASS printed in one corner. It had taken little effort to discover that a company trading under that name owned a shop in St Mark’s Square. Considerably more energy had been expended in trying to find out what the object depicted in the blueprint was, but without result. That it was some kind of small satellite was the considered opinion of Q’s department, but the purpose for which it had been designed remained obscure. It was unlike anything currently being used in space for research or relay purposes.

The jetties of the Piazzetta loomed up and Bond’s gondolier skilfully brought his craft in between the weed-encrusted piles. Bond stood up and stepped on to the planks. ‘Wait for me here, Franco.’

Franco tipped his ribboned straw hat towards his eyes. ‘
Si, signore.
’ He was a tall, well-built young man with black curly hair and long-lashed eyes, whose innocence was all above the surface. Beneath his smooth olive skin he was as hard as tungsten. He worked for Station G, whose sphere of influence covered northern Italy from Turin to Trieste.

The day was cold and the tourists thin on the ground. Bond walked past the Libreria Vecchia and towards the brick mass of the Campanile, the
paron de casa
. Around him the footsteps echoed hollowly and he began to hear the perpetual ghostly murmur that circulates through the colonnades like the accumulated whispers of history. He paused to admire the mosaics in the romanesque arches of the Basilica and moved on towards the Clock Tower. The hour began to strike and the two fused bronze figures on the roof swung back their hammers and struck the great bell in turn. The pigeons rose and then quickly dropped to the paving stones in search of food. They glanced at Bond hopefully with heads cocked on one side, but soon perceived that he was not a man who fed pigeons. Wings drooping and eyes alert to any crumb or grain, they hustled aside to let him pass.

Bond studied the shops near the Clock Tower. Very near the Merceria archway he saw what he was looking for. A canopy bearing the name Venini Glass. Tucked away in one corner with a discretion that was unusual was the Drax symbol. Bond looked about him as he had done when pausing outside the Basilica and felt reasonably certain that he was not being followed. He stepped forward under the arcade and entered the shop. Ranging on every side were shelves piled high with multi-coloured glasses, jugs, bowls, vases and ornaments, all fashioned in glass.

A very pretty girl was quick to step forward. ‘Could I interest you in something?’