Bond - 27 - Never send flowers (19 page)

`And from London?" `Paris." `When?" Already, Bond was doing agitated sums. David Dragonpol, it seemed, had followed the route of the killer, the assassin responsible for the deaths in Rome, London, Paris and Washington then, Switzerland.

`The Tuesday evening. Just for one night. In Paris I saw one of the directors of the Come die Francaise.

`Then you left for Washington?" `I arrived very late on the Wednesday. On Thursday night I met with my friend at the Folger, and from there we went out to dinner.

`And you were back in Zurich on the Friday night?" `About ten, yes. You wish to see my records?" `I think, David, the police might just want to see them." * `He was in all four cities, Flick. He made no bones about it. Rome, London, Paris, Washington. All the sites of those four assassinations. He was there.

`But a day late, yes? And why do you keep calling me Flick?" `Because Fredericka was a horse." `A horse?" `My Friend Fredericka a movie horse." `Oh my God, then call me Freddie." `I prefer Flick, Flick." She gave a resigned sigh. `But I am right, yes?

He was in all four cities, but a day late?" `Mainly only hours late. Hours after the assassinations. If he's telling the truth, he followed those murders as if he was chasing them." It was past midnight, and he had just been through Dragonpol's schedule with Fredericka, sitting close to her on the couch in the East Turret.

`You looked like a ghost when you came out of the dining-room,' she had said as soon as they were alone, and had as a precaution-checked that the elevator was now working. He had even joked about it with Dragonpol when the actor had shown the couple back to the elevator to wish them goodnight. Hort had disappeared a little earlier, making the excuse that she had some household duties to which she had to attend.

Once in their suite she had immediately asked what was wrong, and Bond sketched in the entire conversation with Dragonpol.

`It can't be coincidence. The roses are hers. His European jaunt. His presence in every city. He says that he has all the paperwork, but that kind of thing could be fiddled." `You think it's safe for us to stay here?" And risk being the next recipients of the Bleeding Heart award?" `It had crossed my mind." `He was very open about everything. I didn't really have to jog his memory. He just told me.

Even said I wouldn't like it when I heard where he was at the time of Laura's death. Though I fail to see his point, because, if he's telling the truth, he got to Zurich after she died and Interlaken's quite a trek from Zurich. No, if his schedule turns out to be exactly as he's told me, he arrived everywhere just after the deaths. But he did visit each city, which is quite extraordinary." `As though he followed a trail of blood?" `Exactly. Did you get anything more from Hort?" `She talked roses and the family. Boring to say the least, though there was one thing `Yes?" `The little tough, what's his name, Charles?" `What about him?" `He served the coffee and made a great show of having to speak privately with her. She excused herself and went out of the room with him. They had quite a long conversation. `Which you listened to.

`Not all. It wasn't safe, though she left the door open a little.

They spoke in almost whispers until she seemed to lose her temper.

Anyway, she raised her voice. Just for a moment.

`And said?" `Something to the effect that Charles was a buffoon.

That he should know better. I heard bits of that. Then she said, quite clearly, "They'll be gone by tomorrow night, but for God's sake, don't make that kind of mistake again. The telephone's only there to keep him from fussing. You don't let him use it, and you make sure it's cut off when nobody's with him. You know all this. Pray heaven he hasn't used it." That's pretty much word for word." `Perhaps they were talking about me us." He indicated the white, reproduction antique telephone which sat on one of the marble tables.

`We haven't tried to use it, but maybe we should." He rose and crossed to the telephone. Picking up the instrument he put it to his ear, then pulled a face. `Dead. Disconnected. I guess that's what the conversation was about." Fredericka bit her lip.

`Scared?" `Just a lot, James dear. Just bloody petrified." `Then maybe you're right. Maybe we should get out while the going's good-or at least in the small hours." They spent an hour getting themselves ready, dressing warmly in jeans, rollnecks and light shoes: packing their remaining clothes with care, Bond cursing from time to time that he had not come armed; but neither had Fredericka. After all, she was temporarily suspended from duty. `It's like the Dirty Harry movies,' she said in the one moment of humour. `You have to turn in your gun and badge.

At almost two in the morning, they had everything prepared, their two cases stood beside the elevator, and Bond was just about to press the button to summon the cage, when Fredericka touched his arm. `Sorry, James. I have to use the bathroom again." `Well, for heaven's sake hurry." She disappeared, and a few seconds later he heard her voice calling, agitated: `James, quickly.

Quick, come and look." He ran up the big stairs, through the bedroom to the bathroom where she stood, in the dark, on tiptoe peering out of the window.

`He said nobody could use the tower. That it was unsafe." Bond swore under his breath. Looking out across the low roof, they had the same clear picture of the tower they had seen in daylight, only now, in the pitch darkness of a moonless night, the whole structure was illuminated from within, its huge clear windows lit up from top to bottom. Behind the windows figures moved people ran and gestured.

`Let's get out now, Flick. Something's really screwed up here." Quickly they went back to the sitting-room, and Bond was reaching out for the elevator button when suddenly they heard the clunk and whine of the machinery. The cage was on its way up.

`Stand back, Flick. Get to one side." The cage stopped and the doors opened.

`Mr Dragonpol is sorry for this intrusion, but he needs to see you now, quickly, in the library." Lester stepped into the room. In his right hand he carried a Colt .45 automatic. The safety was off, and he held the weapon like someone who was used to handling these things.

`He says now! He needs you in a hurry!" The wicked eye of the pistol moved slightly, beckoning them into the cage.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE TIME MACHINE

`Do you think we should take our luggage with us?" Bond spoke as though oblivious to the big automatic with which Lester was still gesturing.

`I hardly think that would be appropriate, sir." Even with the pistol, Lester retained the snobbish servility of the complete English butler.

As he asked about the luggage, Bond turned slightly, reaching down as if to pick up his garment bag. Now, frozen, with his hand on the bag, he gave a small shrug, as though acquiescing to Lester's suggestion. Then, in a blur, his fingers curved around the handle, lifting the bag and flinging it, with all his strength, straight at Lester's groin.

He heard the man grunt loudly in pain, beginning to double over, but his right hand came up and Bond saw that the big automatic was still very steady, with Lester's finger moving on the trigger.

Then, Fredericka moved. It was the first time he had seen her do anything violent. She closed on Lester, coming face to face, body to body, with him, slamming her left arm over his right with great force, crushing it against her raised left knee.

Lester's arm snapped audibly and there was a double cry of pain as her knee swivelled, crashing into the unhappy man's groin. The pistol clattered to the ground, followed by its owner who did not know which part of his body to clutch with his one good arm.

Fredericka kicked the pistol back into the room, leaned over and delivered a fierce chop to Lester's neck. The screaming stopped, he fell sideways and was still.

`You killed him, Flick?" Bond, very impressed, tried to sound calm as he scooped up the Colt.

`I hope not." She prodded the body lightly with her toe, and Lester moved, groaning.

`Better truss him up." Bond was down on one knee, fumbling for the butler's braces. They pulled the tail coat from his shoulders and the pain made him stir and begin to regain consciousness. Fredericka chopped him again on the neck, anaesthetizing him once more as they fastened his hands tightly with a handkerchief, then tied his ankles with the braces, stretching the elastic back and securing it around his bound hands. Finally he was gagged with a scarf, which Fredericka pulled from her own bag.

`He's going to try and make a lot of noise when he finally comes out of it." She even smiled a shade sadistically, he thought. `That arm's going to give him gyp, as my mother used to say." `You always as vicious as this, Flick?" `Only when I don't like someone." She gave him an angelic smile. For the first time, he realized how very well trained she was. If, at that moment, he had been allowed to pick a permanent partner from any of the major intelligence services, he knew that she would be his first choice. She was decisive, tough and uncompromising all the qualities someone in Bond's job looked for in a partner.

`I think we should go,' she said, pulling her own bag into the lift cage.

`Luggage and all?" `Well, I'm not leaving any of my personal belongings behind. Not in this place." He dumped his bag beside hers, checked the Colt .45 and pressed the `down' button. As the lift whined towards the ground floor, they were aware of more light than they had previously seen in the castle, and when the doors opened, the quiet, somewhat creepy calm they had become used to appeared to have gone for ever. There were shouts and noises coming from the main body of the building, echoing and fading-the thud of footsteps, and, from somewhere, music filtering in and out of the sounds which seemed to be all around them. These noises, and the reverberation of loud voices, had changed Schloss Drache into a Tower of Babel.

`This way, I think." Instead of heading straight down the corridor, Fredericka turned right, then right again to where the passage continued towards what they both knew could only be the castle's east side.

Finally, they reached a dead end, and a heavy door. She shrugged at Bond, who nodded and turned the doorknob. Light, even more brilliant than before, flooded out at them.

They were in a massive stairwell. The light was unnaturally bright, while the cacophony of sounds became louder, enveloping every corner of the building.

`I always hate it in those movies when people trying to escape go upwards and get cornered on the roof,' Fredericka whispered.

`There's nowhere else to go but up, except right to the centre of things and I don't want to come face to face with the Dragonfly and his rose-growing sister. This way we might at least get a look at the forbidden tower." Eventually they reached a long wide landing which seemed to run across the width of the castle interior, and turned at right angles at each end.

Facing them was a pair of oak double doors. The noise seemed to rise and fall: voices, chanting, conversation, mixed with music, as though the castle had suddenly become inhabited by an invading army of ghosts. If he had believed in the supernatural, Bond would have thought they were in the middle of some terrifying haunting.

He was about to put his hand on the doors when they heard Dragonpol's voice, clear and coming from the right and below them, rising above the rest of the clamour. Quietly Fredericka put down her case, and Bond leaned his garment bag against it.

Softly they moved, clinging to the wall. At the turn they stopped, inching their way out and along the passage.

From this end they could see that, just as the corridor ran for the width of the castle, it also she gasped.

disappeared almost out of sight along what had to be the length of the building. Only in the centre did it angle back into the square U shape, with a balustrade. Dragonpol's voice was coming from below a balcony which looked down on to a hallway, or room, at the castle front.

`I can't wait,' he was saying loudly. `Where's that fool Lester and the two meddlers?" Then he began to shout. `Hort! Hort! Where the hell's she got to? Surely it can't be taking her all this time?

Charles!" `She's just coming in." It was Charles' voice close and below. `Here!" he shouted.

`Hort? How many this time?" She was out of breath. `Three `Only three." `You're certain?" `Absolutely, and you have the key map.

There's still three too many." `I know it, and I'd better get going.

The rest of you Charles, William-get hold of Lester. Keep our guests safe. I want no stupidness. Just keep them here. Don't hurt them unless it's absolutely necessary.

They heard his footsteps thudding away into the distance.

`I'm glad he doesn't want to hurt us,' Fredericka whispered.

`Unless it's absolutely necessary. Come on, I'm going through those doors. I want to see what the hell's in that tower." It was only when they got back to where they had left their luggage that they realized most of the music and general hubbub was coming from directly behind the big double doors. Still with the automatic ready in his hand, Bond leaned against the doors, and they entered the strange disorienting world of Dragonpol's embryo Museum of Theatre.

The noise seemed to wrap itself around them in a jumble of sound.

As they walked forward into the light, they were both staggered by the sudden change which focused only one sound and one view on to their senses. It was so real that Fredericka gasped and clutched at Bond's sleeve. They stood, it appeared, at the very top of a huge Greek amphitheatre. Below them the stone steps were filled with an appreciative audience, which laughed and applauded. He could feel the breeze on his face, and the sun hot above them. He could even smell the crowd, a mixture of spices, bodies and an amalgam of scents.