The Distance Between Insanity & Genius - Let's Read More James Bond Books

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > The Distance Between Insanity & Genius - Let's Read More James Bond Books

«‹›22 »

Strategic Tea: Sep 1, 2012

*does the little finger thing, camera zoom* one MILLION dollars

# ? Nov 15, 2020 10:58

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 30, 2024 01:52

poisonpill: Nov 8, 2009; The only way to get huge fast is to insult a passing witch and hope she curses you with Beast-strength.

That neither of them are expecting him to pay? How does any of this make sense?

Weird prediction time: this dude is actually just super dumb and being manipulated by SPECTRE without knowing it, the mangled person is a person from Bond�s past that he can�t recognize, and may or may not be a woman

# ? Nov 16, 2020 02:15

Oberndorf: Oct 20, 2010

I read this one decades ago, and remembered very little about it, just the tiny little tell of the SPECTRE chief. I�ve been waiting through the entire post-Fleming read for this one, if only because even as a 12 year old this seemed so incredibly stupid.

# ? Nov 16, 2020 02:21

Kangaroo Jerk: Jul 23, 2000

Oberndorf posted:

I read this one decades ago, and remembered very little about it, just the tiny little tell of the SPECTRE chief. I�ve been waiting through the entire post-Fleming read for this one, if only because even as a 12 year old this seemed so incredibly stupid.

Same; I read this when I was barely into double digits too, and even then I found the SPECTRE leader's tragic backstory utterly hilarious.

# ? Nov 16, 2020 04:36

Strategic Tea: Sep 1, 2012

I'm getting excited to learn who it is now :allears:

Was it... the cat all along?

# ? Nov 16, 2020 20:19

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

https://twitter.com/the00files/status/1329801684462219266

# ? Nov 20, 2020 19:01

poisonpill: Nov 8, 2009; The only way to get huge fast is to insult a passing witch and hope she curses you with Beast-strength.

Sixteen?!? Yikes.

# ? Nov 20, 2020 20:13

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 13: Tour de Force

quote:

�What the hell can we do now?� Cedar said, cheerfully waving farewell to the Bismaquers and Walter Luxor from the Saab.

�Sit still, fasten your seat belt, and prepare for some turbulence.� Bond hardly moved his lips. Loudly he shouted to Bismaquer, who stood at the portico, �See you in the morning. At the circuit. Ten o�clock sharp.�

Bismaquer nodded and waved them on. The pick-up, in front, slowly started to guide them down the drive.

After coffee and brandy, Bismaquer and Luxor had made their apologies. �When you own a spread like this,� Markus Bismaquer had said, �there is paperwork which just has to get done, and tonight�s the night. Anyhow, you two must be ready for bed. Get a good night�s sleep, James. You�ve got the race tomorrow.�

Bond had agreed, saying they could easily get back to the cabins without a guide. But the pick-up was there, ready and waiting, and nothing by way of persuasion would change Bismaquer�s mind.

So guide they had, a fact which greatly reduced their chances of playing at being lost and carrying out a full-scale reconnaissance of the ranch.

As if it would stop you idiots from trying!

quote:

Bond brought the Saab close to the tail of the pick-up, crowding the driver, as they turned on to the main arterial highway which crossed the ranch. They could, of course, follow him, go back to the cabins and then take their chances on the open roads in the Saab. But there was little doubt in Bond�s mind that the guide with the pick-up would stay for stake-out duty.

�He�ll probably drop us off and then get lost somewhere in the trees, where he can keep an eye on us. After what we saw, or didn�t see, this afternoon, my impression is that Bismaquer prefers human surveillance to electronics. He�s got a lot of people working for him, even his own highway patrol.�

Cedar made a movement in the darkness. �So we�re boxed in?�

�Up to a point. Time�s short, though. We need a look at that laboratory, and I wouldn�t mind showing you exactly how to get into the Conference Centre. Correction � how I get into the Centre. Is your seat belt fastened tightly?�

She grunted a yes.

�Okay. What I�ve heard today clears my conscience.� Bond smiled to himself. �I don�t mind hurting a few people.�

"I'm eager for violence!"

quote:

They turned off the highway, heading towards the knoll � about four miles to go. Get him in the trees, thought Bond, reaching down to press another of the buttons on the dashboard which released the Nitefinder glasses he always carried.

The glasses consisted of an oblong control box, one end padded, and shaped to the head.

The brightness and focus control were on the right side, while from the front there protruded two lenses, like a pair of small binoculars. Using one hand, he strapped the system to his head, switching on as he did so.

Bond had done many hours� training driving in pitch darkness, using only the Nitefinders, which he had also worn once operationally. They gave an almost clear picture in darkness, enough for the driver to see clearly up to a hundred yards.

The adjustments made, Bond brought the Saab very close to the pick-up�s tail. They were now about a mile from the knoll. Flatly he told Cedar what he was going to do.

�It�s going to get very dark in a minute. Then there�ll be some action; then a lot of light. With luck, he�ll go off the road without doing too much damage to the truck. We need that for ourselves.�

They had almost reached the trees now. �Okay. Hold on.� Bond flicked the Saab�s lights off � with the switch peculiar to his car � and saw, through the Nitefinders, the pick-up wobble slightly on the road. For a second, the driver might well see the Saab�s shape, but he would be puzzled, and the darkness behind him might throw him off balance.

Bond did not stay behind for long. Pulling out, he smoothly depressed the accelerator. The rev counter needle rose fast, crossing the 3,000 limit and bringing the turbo charger into play.

The Saab shot forward, turbo building into the satisfying whine, as they overtook the pick-up. Bond crowded the driver so that, in the darkness, he was forced to pull over. He must have seen the shape pass him, then caught the Saab full in his headlights before it disappeared into the black zone, leaving no tail lights in its wake.

Surely the man in the truck will have no radio to report Bond speeding around with his lights off!

quote:

�He�ll be putting on speed now, trying to catch us,� Bond said. �Hold tight.� Without slowing noticeably, he stood on the brakes, changing down and wrenching at the wheel. The Saab went into a neatly controlled skid, and Bond, changing down for a second time, turned the car right around so that it now faced back along the road.

�Should be on us any minute.� He sounded cool, like an experienced fighter pilot leading a section into attack. One hand dropped to the small button, set just behind the gear lever. The pick-up�s lights were coming now, closing fast. In a second the Saab would be clearly visible to the driver.

Still in the zone of darkness, Bond pressed the button. Another of his personalised pieces of equipment came into play. The Saab�s front number plate flipped up, and, at the same time, an aircraft light, fitted behind the number plate and below the bumper, blazed out � a great cone of white, dazzling light.

The pick-up was caught full in the beam, and Bond could imagine the driver wrestling with the wheel, throwing up one hand to cover his eyes, feet fighting the brake and clutch.

The truck slewed to one side, bounced against a tree, then, out of control, turned sideways on. The driver was free of the light�s blinding glare, but too late. The pick-up slid across the road, swinging violently as the skidding wheels pushed the vehicle into a spin. The rear wheels hit the track side, and, with a sudden wrench, the small pick-up seemed to hurl itself against the trees before coming to a grinding stop.

Great plan, Bond. You need the truck intact and undamaged, so you force the driver to crash!

quote:

�Hell,� Bond shouted, ripping the Nitefinder set from his head. �Stay where you are,� he yelled at Cedar, as he grabbed his flashlight, slid the VP70 automatic from its holster, and jumping from the Saab, raced to the van.

The pick-up lay at an angle against the trees, one side severely dented. There was no sign of broken glass. The driver was another matter, lying back in the small cab, his head lolling in a manner Bond knew only too well. The force of impact had whiplashed the man�s head, breaking his neck.

Dragging the door open, Bond felt for the driver�s pulse. He must have died instantaneously, without knowing what had happened. For a brief moment, James Bond felt a twinge of regret. He had not wished to kill the man: a few cuts and bruises would have easily sufficed.

He was working for the bad guys, so I guess Bond just has to hope he was secretly a rapist or something instead of a poor rent-a-cop with a family!

quote:

The dead driver was in Bismaquer Security livery, and as Bond heaved the body from the truck, his mental reservations were tempered by the fact that a large Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum � the Model 29, Bond thought � hung, holstered, on his hip. In all probability he had been right: the security man was a watchdog as well as a guide.

The Smith & Wesson Model 29 was the originator of the .44 Magnum cartridge in 1955, which briefly bestowed upon it the status of "most powerful handgun in the world"; Dirty Harry Callahan would be off by a few years, as rounds like the .454 Casull had already been developed by the time he said the line in 1971, but it was still a beefy boi. That film singlehandedly turned what was a niche handgun into a phenomenon. They flew off the shelves so fast that they went out of stock everywhere....and then were promptly returned by many first-time shooters who hadn't realized just what shooting a .44 Magnum felt like.

This isn't the first appearance of the revolver in Bond's hands, though! The film adaptation of Live and Let Die, coming just two years off Dirty Harry, equipped Bond with a nickel-plated Model 29 with a 6-inch barrel for the San Monique action setpiece that would replace the Jamaica infiltration of the original novel. Bond unfortunately seems to have not brought any spare ammo, as after 6 shots the gun is no longer used. This attempt to modernize (or perhaps "Americanize") Bond with magnum revolvers would not last beyond this film, and he would continue using his PPK almost exclusively.

quote:

Bond pushed the body off the track, into the grass among the trees, tracing the area with his flashlight to make sure he could find it again. Once the corpse was well-hidden, he removed the Smith & Wesson, returned to the pick-up, and tried the engine. It started immediately and, with a little scraping as he backed away from the trees, seemed to be in reasonable running order. The tank was three-quarters full, and the other gauges showed normal. Bond drove the pick-up alongside the Saab, keeping his eyes averted from the explosion of bright light, which burned like a magnesium burst from the front of the silver Turbo.

�Think you can manage the pick-up?� he asked Cedar, who was out of the Saab almost before Bond switched off.

She did not even bother to reply, but simply climbed in, ready to take over. Bond said he would follow her up the hill and instructed her to stop at the cabins.

Once back in the Saab, he lowered the number plate, extinguishing the aircraft light, switched on the headlights, and started the engine. Cedar began to move the pick-up slowly up the track. With a swift, neatly executed three-point turn, the Saab followed in her wake, and, without further incident, they arrived back at the cabins.

There Bond explained exactly what he intended to do and what routes they would take. The Saab was to be left in its usual place, locked and with the alarm sensors set. The reconnaissance would be carried out in the pick-up.

�People are less likely to stop us with Bismaquer�s livery blazed all over it.� Bond patted the dented pick-up.

Not even to ask why there's a massive dent in the side?

quote:

They planned to move quickly down towards the Conference Centre area so that Cedar could learn to operate the tunnel mechanism, then drive around the mono-rail station, and, lastly, back to the laboratory area.

�We should leave the pick-up out of sight somewhere near by and go in on foot,� Bond warned her. �Then, when we get back here, I think our poor friend down the road�ll have to be involved in another accident � going downhill.�

He set the sensors on the Saab alarm system, locked the car, and was just about to get behind the wheel of the pick-up � the guard�s Smith & Wesson in his hand � when another thought struck him.

�Cedar, to make absolutely certain, it may be a good idea if we dummy up our beds a bit. Who knows what Bismaquer, or Luxor, have in mind for us? You know how to?�

And Cedar immediately tries to drag Bond into bed?

quote:

Cedar acidly replied that she had been dummying up beds since she was a teenager, turned on her heel, and strode off to Sand Creek. Bond lit a cigarette, and sauntered, unhurried into Fetterman. It took very little time to stuff pillows into shape under the thin sheets. In the darkness, the lump in the bed could certainly be that of a sleeping figure.

Cedar was already standing by the pick-up, waiting, when Bond returned. He carried his Heckler & Koch VP70 on the back of his hip and placed the security man�s Smith & Wesson on the floor of the pick-up. Cedar still had the spare revolver, and Bond had not forgotten to equip himself with Q Branch�s ring of pick-locks and tools, as well as the flashlight from the Saab.

They coasted down the hill, sidelights on, and engine just turning over � an eerie sensation. They could hear only the faint sound of the wheels against the track, the rustle of the airstream around them, and the light breeze through the silent archway of fir trees.

Bond slowly let out the clutch as they reached the subsidiary road. By now the moon had fully risen. They could easily have driven by its light, but that would only have caused suspicion, so Bond put the headlights on, turning right on to the highway for the fifteen miles or so which took them to the edge of the main wall and the jungle surrounding the Conference Centre.

It required only a few minutes to locate, and demonstrate, the hydraulically-operated entrance to the tunnel, and they were soon back on the road, staying near to the outer perimeter of the ranch on what would, in the normal world, be secondary roads.

But we're not in the normal world! We're in Gardner's James Bond World!

quote:

�I�m intrigued by the conference,� Bond said, driving with more than usual care. �When the delegates begin to arrive, I want to take a quick look-see for myself. If SPECTRE has any large-scale operation planned, this would be an ideal place for the briefing.�

�They start arriving tomorrow night,� Cedar told him, unable to disguise a certain amount of amusement.

�Oh?�

�Your friend Nena told me. In the powder room, as she so politely calls it, before dinner. The first batch arrive by air tomorrow evening � I mean this evening� � it having already passed midnight.

�Well, if we�re all still in one piece, I think I�ll sit in on one of their discussions.�

They drive outside the enclosure around Tara and head for the laboratory, which is lit up and visibly in use. They leave the truck in the trees about 40 feet from the other building, which looks like a warehouse.

quote:

There was a gap between the smaller laboratory building and the warehouse. Glancing between them Bond saw the two were connected, probably by a narrow passage. Then they arrived at the first windows of the laboratory. The light, very bright, cast a block beam on to the grass, reaching almost as far as the trees.

Straightening up, one on either side of the window, Cedar and Bond peered in.

Several women tended machinery, each of them dressed in white overalls, their hair completely swathed in turbans, hands in tight rubber gloves. On their feet they wore the kind of short boots usually seen in hospital operating theatres. The women worked with quiet, practised expertise, hardly exchanging a word.

�An ice cream plant,� Cedar whispered. �I got taken to one as a kid. See, the pasteuriser at the far end? That�s where the mixings go: the milk, cream, sugar and flavouring.�

Using dumb show and essential words, Cedar pointed out the standard parts of factory-made ice cream. Bond frowned, a little surprised at her knowledge of how the mix was heated in the pasteuriser, to kill bacteria, before being filtered on to the homogenising vat. From there, he could clearly see the array of cold pipes for mushing and chilling the mix, and the vast stainless steel holding tank, which controlled the flow into the freezer. Then there were the units which blocked the ice cream, before an endless belt took the finished blocks into a metal-doored hardening room. From the window it looked exceptionally efficient.

How many of you were expecting your time in the James Bond thread to include getting a paragraph about how ice cream factories work?

quote:

Bond tipped his head, motioning Cedar forward. Crouching near the wall, he whispered, �You seem to know it all. How professional is that system?�

�Very. They�re even using real cream and milk, by the look of it. No chemicals.�

�All this from a school trip to a factory?�

Cedar grinned. �I like ice cream,� she hissed. �It�s interesting. But that�s a professional set-up in there. Small, but professional.�

�Could they turn out enough to market the stuff?�

She nodded, adding, �In a small way, yes. But it�s probably for local consumption.�

Well poo poo, now I need to get ice cream in Amarillo to round this out.

quote:

Bond caught hold of Cedar�s hand, tugging her in the direction of the next section. The windows were smaller, and this time they found themselves looking into a large laboratory. Glass tubing, vats and intricate electronics were laid out on almost a grand scale.

The laboratory was empty, except for a Bismaquer Security guard standing in front of a door on the far side.

�Hell.� Bond put his lips near to Cedar�s ear. �If anything�s happening, it�s through there. We�ll have to cut back and go around to the other side.�

�Let�s have the pick-locks.� Cedar touched his hand. �I�ll see if I can look into that warehouse, while you try the windows around the corner.�

Are we going to kill this random dude, too?

quote:

They retraced their steps, back along the wall, Bond handing over the pick-lock kit as they reached the sliding doors at the gable end. He left Cedar to wrestle with them while he crept forward, trying to gauge the exact position of the windows to the room off the main laboratory. After two errors, he discovered the right one. Peering in, from the left-hand corner, he saw Bismaquer and Walter Luxor pacing a small, bare, cell-like chamber. On closer inspection, he could clearly see that the room was in fact a cell � a padded cell. There were two soft chairs anchored to the centre of the floor, both occupied by Bismaquer employees in uniforms. An animated conversation was taking place, between these two seated men, Bismaquer and Luxor.

Bond, still crouching low, put his ear hard against the window and could just make out what was being said. Bismaquer had ceased to punctuate his conversation with the jolly laughter. Now, he seemed very serious indeed, his large body less relaxed, his gestures economic.

�So, Tommy,� he was saying to one of the seated men, �so you�ll give me the keys to your house, let me drive over and take your wife by force, right?�

The man called Tommy chuckled. �Anything you say, chief. You just go right ahead.� His speech was distinct, unslurred, and he appeared to be absolutely in command of himself.

Oh no. The plot has turned kinky again.

quote:

The other man joined in: �Anything to make anybody happy. Take my keys too. No problem. Take the car. I just like seeing people enjoy themselves. Me? I do what I�m told.� This one also gave a perfectly natural impression of someone meaning what he said, under no stress or influence.

�Do you want to continue working here?� It was Luxor asking.

�Why not?� came the reply from the second man.

�I�d sure hate to leave. It�s great here,� the one called Tommy added.

�Listen to me, Tommy.� Bismaquer had walked across the room and stood near the window. But for the protective screening and glass, Bond could have touched him. �Would you worry a lot if, after I�ve raped your wife, I killed her too?�

�Be my guest, Mr Bismaquer. Anything you want. Here, I�ll give you the keys. I told you.�

Ladies and gentlemen, the plot has gotten weirder from the last book.

quote:

Luxor had joined his chief. Even though he spoke quietly, Bond heard every word. �Ten hours, Markus. Ten hours, and they�re still both affected.�

�Amazing. Better than we ever expected.� Bismaquer raised his voice: �Tommy, you love your wife. I attended your wedding. You�re a nice couple. Why would you allow me to do such a terrible thing?�

�Because you out-rank me, Mr Bismaquer. You give the orders, I obey. That�s the way it works.�

�Would you question Mr Bismaquer�s orders?� Luxor asked, the squeaky voice rising.

�Why should I? Like I just said, that�s the way it works. Like in the army. You take orders from the senior man, and you obey them.�

�Without question?� Luxor pushed.

�Sure.�

�Sure.� The other man nodded. �That�s how it works.�

Sure!

quote:

By the window, Bismaquer muttered something Bond couldn�t make out and shook his head, as though in disbelief.

Luxor turned, and, for a second, Bond thought the walking death�s head would see him through the glass.

�Uncanny maybe, Markus. But a real breakthrough. We�ve done it, my friend. Think of the results.� Bismaquer frowned, and Bond caught his tone. The voice was cold, bleak as a blizzard. �I am thinking of the results . . .� The rest was lost to Bond, who ducked down, having heard enough, and started to go back, padding softly along the wall. Then he stopped, stock still, and pressed hard against the wall. Someone was moving in his direction and, out of reflex habit, Bond found the large VP70 in his hand.

Seconds later he relaxed. The figure, coming with exceptional speed, was Cedar.

�Let�s go. Fast.� She was almost out of breath. �I nearly got spotted by a security guard. That warehouse � they�ve enough ice cream in freezing units to supply the whole state of Texas for a month.�

Ben & Jerry were the true villains of this book.

quote:

By the time they got back to the pick-up, Bond�s mind was working overtime. He started the engine, then waited for a few moments before he let out the clutch and pulled away slowly. The roads were empty. �So they�re stockpiling ice cream,� he said as they reached the turn-off from the highway.

�I�ll say.� Cedar had recovered her breath. �The warehouse is divided up into huge refrigerators. I�d looked into three of them. Then this guard came in. Thank God I hadn�t gotten one of the doors open � they�re heavy as sin � and I�d mostly closed the main doors, leaving just enough space for a quick getaway.�

Bond asked if she was absolutely sure she had not been seen.

How is this less effort than just writing dialogue?

quote:

�Absolutely. He�d have been after me like a bullet. I just stayed flat against one of these damned great cold stores. He came part way into the warehouse, then went back . . . back towards the laboratory section.�

�Good. You want to hear the bad news now?� As they reached the knoll, beginning to climb the sloping track to the cabins, Bond finished telling her what he had seen, and heard, at the window of the padded cell.

"We're in a cheap pulp book, Cedar. Real bad."

quote:

�So, they�ve got a couple of very normal-seeming guys in there, willing to obey even the most unlikely orders � like getting their wives raped and murdered?� Cedar shivered.

It was not strange, Bond thought, for her to sound incredulous. �That�s about it. Very normal guys. There was no way of telling, from what I could see, but Bismaquer and Luxor must�ve been feeding them something. They said the effect had lasted for ten hours, and, when you take the padded cell into account, there�s little doubt those two men are human guinea pigs.�

�Hopped up to the eyeballs.�

�Yes. The worrying thing is that they didn�t look, or sound it. They were taking orders, and complying, that�s all. But orders that went against all reason or conscience. Why, Cedar? Making people into unknowing hitmen, or something like that? Why?�

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shbxUe-S2V8

quote:

�How?� she volleyed back. �Why�re you stopping?�

Bond said she was to stay in the cab. �We have to take the driver up the hill, I�m afraid. I�ll put him in the back. No need for you to do any of this.�

Cedar said it was most gallant of him, but corpses did not worry her. Nevertheless, she stayed in the pick-up while Bond dragged the dead driver to the truck and dumped the body in the back, then returned to cover up any marks among the trees.

So just remember, for the rest of this conversation, there's a mook's corpse sliding around in the bed of their truck.

quote:

�If they�ve developed a drug that shows no outward effects . . .� Cedar began when Bond returned.

�Yes.� He continued to drive up the hill. �Yes.� It was already making a little sense. �No side effects. No staggering, or slurring. People functioning normally . . .�

�Except in one sense.� Cedar took up a mutual train of thought. �They�ll obey orders which, in usual circumstances, would either be questioned, or acted against. . .�

�It�s a weapon in a thousand,� Bond said. Then, as they reached the cabins, he asked, �The ice cream? You think that could be the delivery system?�

�They�ve got enough of the lousy stuff.�

�I thought you liked ice cream.�

�I�m going off it very quickly.�

Who here had "evil ice cream" on their bingo card for this thread?

quote:

They climbed out, and this time Cedar helped with the grisly job of putting the dead driver in the cab behind the wheel. Bond checked that they had left nothing of their own in the pick-up, then returned the revolver to the driver�s holster. Cedar even insisted on squeezing in, next to Bond, as he started the engine and, leaning over the body, drove the pick-up slowly back down the hill.

Cedar, what the gently caress?

quote:

When they reached the top of the steepest slope, he stopped, applied the handbrake, and helped Cedar out. The engine was running smoothly and the wheels turned slightly off-centre. With a nod to Cedar, indicating that she should get out of the way, Bond leaned through the driver�s side window and released the handbrake.

She didn't even need to be in there! She just crawled in with the corpse for no reason!

quote:

He was carried for a few yards before jumping clear. Then, picking himself up, Bond watched the truck gathering speed, slewing from one side of the road to the other.

Fascinated by the outcome, he hardly noticed Cedar alongside him, linking an arm through his.

NOT THE TIME

quote:

The pick-up�s lights showed its progress, wild and careering, as it hurtled down the slope. Then they heard the first crunch as the truck hit the trees. Its lights seemed to dance their beams into the air, then down, in a rolling, Catherine-wheel effect � their movement accompanied by an attendant clattering and grating as the vehicle began to fall apart.

It took about twenty seconds. Then the whoosh, followed by a crump as the truck finally piled up, its tank catching fire in the impact.

�The trees look like they�re alive,� murmured Cedar.

Okay, this girl is loving weird.

quote:

�Ancient peoples held them to be very much alive and sacred,� Bond said. He also felt there was something old and terrifying about the strange shadows and odd movement created by the fire. �Modern people too � some of them. Trees are living things. I know what you mean.�

�We�d better go.� Cedar slipped her arm free and turned abruptly on her heel, as though not able to watch the wreck any longer. �The whole place�ll see that fire. We�ll have visitors before you know it.�

Bond caught up with her, striding towards the clearing and the cabins.

�We�ve got a lot to think about,� she said, as they reached the door of Sand Creek.

�A great deal, Cedar. Makes me wonder if we shouldn�t turn and run for it now, give the authorities what we have and see if they�ll come in force.�

As he said it, Bond knew this was not the way.

quote:

�It wouldn�t worry me if we got out here and now.� Cedar gave him a kiss on the cheek, then tried to move in closer, but Bond gently held her off. She gave a long sigh. �I know. I know, James. Just like I know you won�t really leave this place until we have concrete evidence, with all the ends tied up.�

Bond said that was really the way of it. �Okay.� Cedar shrugged. �As long as you have the Dragon Lady tied into it as well. That would make me really happy. Goodnight, James. Sleep well.�

Bond started to walk past the Saab, back towards Fetterman. His hand was on the door knob when Cedar began screaming from the other cabin.

# ? Nov 20, 2020 21:05

Runcible Cat: May 28, 2007; Ignoring this post

chitoryu12 posted:

How many of you were expecting your time in the James Bond thread to include getting a paragraph about how ice cream factories work?

And in sign language at that. I want to see how Cedar signs "pasteurization".

# ? Nov 21, 2020 01:33

Cassius Belli: May 22, 2010; horny is prohibited

Gats Akimbo posted:

I want to see how Cedar signs "pasteurization".

She holds her hand out to Bond's chest and raises it to his forehead, maybe. :downsrim:

# ? Nov 21, 2020 01:44

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 14: Repellent Insects

quote:

The VP70 automatic was in Bond�s hand as he reached the door of Cedar�s cabin, seconds after the first scream.

His right leg came up in a vicious kick, smashing the handle and almost ripping the door back from its hinges. Bond jumped into the doorway, then to one side, the VP70 in the double-hand grip and the word �Freeze� already on his lips.

But there was only Cedar, standing in the bedroom doorway, shrinking back in revulsion, her body shaking with fear.

Bond crossed the living room. He grasped her shoulder, ready to fire at anything � animal, reptile, or man � inside the bedroom.

Then, he also took an involuntary step back. The room was alive with them � large, dark, creeping, and malevolent ants. They covered the floor, walls, ceiling. The bed itself had turned black, a constantly moving sea of the creatures.

There were hundreds of them, the smallest a good inch in length, squirming together, fighting to get to the bed where the dummy was now a dark seething lump.

.....that was your assassination method?

Ants?

quote:

Bond slammed the door behind them, then looked to see how much space remained between it and the floor.

�Harvesters, I think, Cedar. Harvester ants. Out of their environment and looking for food.�

If they were Harvesters, Bond thought, they had not come in by accident. Harvesters live in arid areas and store seeds for food. They could never have drifted in from the desert � at least not in such large numbers.

The other fact he hesitated to mention was that one sting from a harvester ant could be painful, it could even in the right circumstances be lethal. But hundreds � maybe a few thousand � of the large insects, out of their natural environment, excited, possibly searching for food, was another matter. Several stings from enraged harvester ants would be deadly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkebxEVP8cw&t=1s

quote:

�There�s only one way to deal with them.� Bond bundled Cedar out of the cabin, swiftly looking behind him to make certain none of the ants had advanced into the living room, he closed the door behind him.

Bond hurried the girl across to his own cabin, one arm around her. Once inside he told her to stay in the main room � �And keep down. Right?� � while he dashed to the bedroom for the briefcase.

Flicking the tumbler locks, Bond opened up the case, then slid and lifted the false bottom to reach what he needed: a small detonator and a couple of inches of fast-burning fuse. Quickly he inserted the fuse into the little metal core of the detonator, and, breaking all the rules, crimped the detonator to the fuse with his teeth. His old instructors would have winced. �You can lose your teeth and kissing equipment that way, Mr Bond,� they used to tell him.

Reaching deeper into the briefcase, Bond retrieved one of the bags which contained plastic explosive. He tore off a small section and rolled the plasticine-like material until he had something roughly the size and shape of a golf ball.

I'm very eager to see how you explain this to your host.

quote:

Keeping fuse and detonator well away from the plastic, Bond ran out of the room again. With a further caution to Cedar to stay where she was, he raced full-tilt out of the cabin towards the Saab. Working with speed, he unlocked the alarm sensors, then the boot, which he searched rapidly.

He found the spare container immediately. For years now, Bond had rarely travelled without at least a couple of spare gallons of petrol in a plastic container, held in place in the large boot by restraining webbing.

At the door of Sand Creek, Bond unscrewed the container�s cap, and moulded the plastic ball around the lip. Still keeping detonator and fuse well clear, he paused at the bedroom before pushing the detonator hard into the plastic. The only problem now was to light the fuse without igniting the petrol fumes.

You can't just leave?!

quote:

Gently, Bond opened the bedroom door, his flesh creeping at the sight of an entire room moving, in obscene waves, with the fat crawling insects. Placing the container just inside the door, he took out his Dunhill lighter. He held it low, well clear of the vaporising petrol, and thumbed the wheel. The flame appeared. Quickly Bond applied it to the fuse, which spluttered immediately.

Closing the door softly to prevent the home-made bomb from being knocked over, Bond walked slowly out of the cabin. Walk, never run, they taught you: running increased the possibility of falling near a planted charge.

At least Gardner's commando skills come in handy here.

quote:

He had just reached the door of Fetterman when the crude device blew with a hollow roar. The explosive shot the petrol up in a fireball, straight through the cabin roof, a hand of brilliant flame clawing at the air, then fanning out inside so that the interior of Sand Creek became an inferno within seconds.

The door of Fetterman was wrenched open. For a moment, Bond thought it was blast effect, as the knob was pulled from his hand. But he saw Cedar standing there, rooted to the spot. Bond pushed her inside, sent her sprawling, and landed on top of her. Outside, flaming and smoking debris arched and showered across the clearing.

�Just keep down, like I told you, Cedar.� Bond realised he was pinning the girl down, lying almost astride her.

�If you stay like this, James, I�d be glad to.� Even in the aftermath of shock � first the ants, and then the sudden blast from the bomb � Cedar managed to laugh.

I'm starting to think Cedar Leiter is a psychopath.

quote:

Quickly Bond rolled away. �Just keep down,� he ordered, then headed for the door again.

Bits of burning debris littered the area. With admirable thought for priorities, Bond quickly checked that no heavy pieces of wood, or burning material, had slammed into the Saab. Next, he turned to the cabin called Fetterman, circling it, making absolutely certain that no secondary fire had started there.

Is Gardner calling it "admirable" an acknowledgement of this dude being an idiot?

quote:

It was only then that two vital facts came into sharp focus. The first Bond had already realised: such a large colony of harvester ants could not possibly have got into the cabin by accident. But the second was even more revealing: the ants were, of course, meant to sting and kill, and the target was Bond himself. Had he not told Bismaquer that he was staying in Sand Creek, and precisely to protect Cedar, whom he had considered the more vulnerable?

Already he could hear the sound of motors: vehicles were approaching below them. When help � if you could call it that � arrived, one of two things would happen: Bismaquer and his henchmen, finding both Bond and Cedar unharmed, would either try to dispense some fast, rough justice, or they would take advantage of the situation and split them up, moving either Bond or Cedar from the cabins to Tara. Whatever happened, it was unlikely they would be given the opportunity to be alone together during the next day or so. Some quick planning had to be done and now, before anyone came near.

With their current level of planning, I'm surprised he's not going to try and shoot all the guards and then bluff his way out of it.

quote:

Swiftly, Bond made his way to the cabin, where Cedar sat with a stiff drink in her hand. �My clothes,� she said woefully, before Bond had a chance to speak. �Everything we bought. Up in smoke. James, I haven�t even got a pair of panties left.�

Bond could not resist the obvious: �Don�t worry, my dear, I�m sure Nena Bismaquer will fit you out.�

I can't decide whether to comment on the bad joke or Cedar rushing straight for the liquor cabinet after this, so I'm just going to sit in stunned silence at this book.

quote:

Cedar started to retort, but Bond silenced her with a quick word. If they were separated, he said, there would have to be some means of communication. Handing over the one spare key to the Saab, he told her where the car would be hidden if he suddenly went to ground. She would have to devise some means of getting away from wherever she was lodged.

�If you�re right, and the delegates for this conference start arriving tonight, I shall try to get into the Conference Centre in the early hours of tomorrow morning.� Bond hesitated, suddenly recalling the assignation he had made with Nena Bismaquer for what was now tonight. �Midnight,� he said, �midnight tomorrow. If I�m not there, make it the following night. If the car�s gone, you�ll know I had to leave you in the lurch; but Cedar, that�ll be a last resort, and I�ll be back � probably with a horde of F.B.I., C.I.A. and State Troopers. So just stay put.�

"I promise not to get so wrapped up in loving the villain's wife that I get behind in my schedule!"

quote:

Bond was still making Cedar repeat details of the car�s hiding place, and their meeting arrangements when two pick-up trucks and a car hurtled into the clearing.

�Hey . . . Hey there! James, Cedar . . . are you okay.� Bismaquer�s voice boomed from outside, to an undercurrent of shouts and orders.

Bond went to the door. �We�re taking cover in here. This is no way to treat your guests, Bismaquer.�

�What?� Bismaquer appeared in all his bulk, a few feet from the door. Behind him, Bond caught sight of Nena�s face and thought he detected a look of relief when she saw he was safe.

�What in hell happened here?� Bismaquer waved towards the smouldering skeleton that had once been Sand Creek cabin. People milled around the ruins, and Bond noticed that Bismaquer�s men had come prepared, for one of the pick-ups was fitted with a large tank of pressurised foam. Already a group in Bismaquer�s livery had started to smother the embers.

�There were . . .� Cedar began.

�There were a few bugs around,� said Bond, casually leaning against the door jamb, �so I came out to the car, in which I always carry a small first aid kit. I wanted some insect repellent. Cedar heard me and thought I was an intruder.� He laughed. �Funny really. I must explain � when we told you earlier that I was in Sand Creek and Cedar in Fetterman, we�d got them muddled. In fact, it was the other way round. But when we got back tonight, Cedar decided she preferred Fetterman after all. She didn�t like the picture in Sand Creek. We were tired and, apparently, both sleep in the raw, so we didn�t bother to move our things. Thought we�d change over properly in the morning. All Cedar�s stuff was in there.� He nodded towards the ruins. �My stuff�s intact, but Cedar�s only got the clothes she�s standing . . .�

You are the worst at this.

quote:

�The prints?� Bismaquer interrupted. �Are they okay? You didn�t have . . . ?�

�The prints are fine, I promise you.�

�Thank the good Lord for that.�

�Markus,� Bond snapped sharply. �You sound like an alcoholic in a shipwreck � �Is the brandy safe?� instead of �How many have we saved?��

�Yes.� Nena moved close to the group by the door. �You really are callous, Markus. James could�ve been killed.�

�Very nearly was. What do you use for cooking in these cabins? Bottled gas?�

�As a matter of fact . . .� Bismaquer began.

�Well, some idiot must have left a faulty cylinder. I lit a cigarette; left it on an ashtray in the bedroom. I only got as far as the car, then, whomp, up it went.�

James Bond: "whomp"

quote:

�Oh, James, I wouldn�t have had this happen . . . It�s terrible!� Nena was looking at him in a way that brought back the smell of her hair and the shared kiss among the dense trees. Bond found it genuinely difficult to tear his eyes away. Then he realised that another car was coming up the slope.

Bond took a step towards Bismaquer. �While we�re at it, Markus,� he assumed an aggressive tone, �what about those damned bugs?�

�The bugs?� Bismaquer looked around him, as though about to be attacked by a plague of hornets.

�Yes, the bugs. Big, black nasty creatures � like huge ants.�

�Oh my God.� Bismaquer took a pace back. �Not Harvesters?�

�I think so.� Bond started to pour on the anger. �Do you get a lot of those around here, Markus? If so, why didn�t you warn us? Can�t Harvesters . . . ?�

�They can kill you, yes.� For a second, as he said it, Bismaquer seemed to have shed any fear.

This is correct in the scale seen here. While a few harvester ant stings will merely be extremely painful for hours, a few hundred would be fatal.

quote:

�Well? Do you often get them?�

Bismaquer did not meet Bond�s eyes. �Sometimes. Not many though.�

�There were hundreds. We could�ve both been stung to death. I think you�re taking it a shade casually, Markus.�

Whatever Bismaquer might have replied was cut off by the brisk arrival of the other car. Luxor was at the wheel, with two security men in attendance. They had hardly stopped � in a braking cloud of dust � when Luxor shouted for Bismaquer.

Bismaquer went over a shade too fast for Bond�s peace of mind. Was Luxor in command, he wondered? The two were in close conversation, the gash in Luxor�s skull head moving in rapid monologue.

�Will you be okay here, tonight, James?� Nena had come into the cabin.

�We can both stay here,� Cedar chimed in. �We�ll toss for the sofa.�

�I wouldn�t hear of it, my dear.� Nena smiled sweetly. �You�ll have the guest room at Tara. And we�ll do something about clothes for you first thing. If I get your sizes, one of my more intelligent girls can make a trip into town. I�d lend you some of mine, but I fear they�d be too long, and maybe a little tight for you.�

"You're what, 15?"

quote:

�You�re so kind,� mouthed Cedar so that they could hardly hear her.

Nena turned, as Bismaquer approached them. �Cedar�s coming back to the house for the night, Markus.�

�Good.� He spoke almost as an aside. �James, something else has happened. Unpleasant as hell. The guy who brought you up here, the one you followed � the one in the pick-up . . .�

�Yes?�

�What happened when he left you?�

Bond shrugged, frowning. �What do you mean? He waved us goodnight and off he went.�

�Did you hear anything after?�

Bond thought for a minute. �No. We went into my cabin, put on some music, and had a drink. That was when we decided to change cabins. Cedar said she liked this one better than Sand Creek. I think it was the picture that did it. I know what she means � a lot of white men riding around killing off boys, women, and children. But why the questions, Markus?�

Bismaquer scowled. �Your guide was a hell of a good man . . .�

�Fisher?� asked Nena, with a trace of anxiety.

Bismaquer nodded. �Yep. One of the best we had.�

�What happened?� Nena Bismaquer was now definitely alarmed and could not hide it.

Markus took a deep breath. �It seems he blew it tonight. Trouble with Fisher was that he � well, he liked the juice from time to time.�

�Partial to a few glasses when the mood took him. I know the syndrome.� Bond sounded unconcerned.

Do you, Bond?

quote:

�I may as well tell you. Fisher�s job was to � how do I put it? � well, to look after you. His instructions were to stay in the trees, make sure there were no problems; like animals. There are a few around.�

�Like Harvester ants?� Bond asked.

�Animals,� Bismaquer repeated.

�And he went for a drink instead?� Cedar prompted.

Bismaquer shook his head. �Not the first drink, anyway. He�d probably already had a few. Maybe he was going for more.�

�Was?� from Nena.

�The pick-up went off the road. It�s burned out in the trees at the bottom of the hill. We were in such a hurry getting up here, we didn�t spot it. Walter did.�

�And Fisher?� Nena�s mouth was half open.

�Sorry, honey. I know you liked him around the place. Fisher got burned.�

Oh my God, they killed the guy everyone liked.

quote:

�Oh my God. You mean . . . ?�

�As a doornail. Most unpleasant.� Bismaquer looked from Bond to Cedar, and back again. �You sure you heard nothing?�

�Not a thing.�

�Nothing at all.�

�Poor Fisher.� Nena turned away, her face creased. �His wife . . .�

�It would be best if you broke it to her, my dear,� Bismaquer said peremptorily, turning away.

�Of course, Markus. First, we�ll settle Cedar at Tara.� Nena moved towards her husband. �Then,� a small sigh, �then I�ll go and break the news to Lottie Fisher.�

Bond and Cedar are monsters!

quote:

�Good. Yes.� Bismaquer�s mind was clearly elsewhere. �You�ll be okay, then, James?�

Bond said he would be fine, then, smiling asked if the Grand Prix was still on. �I mean after all this?�

In the light from the cabin and the headlights, he might have imagined a cloud crossing Markus Bismaquer�s face, before the bear of a man spoke. �Oh yes, James. This has been unfortunate, sure, but the Grand Prix�s definitely on. Ten in the morning. Walter�s looking forward to it I am sure.�

�I�ll see you there, then. At the track. �Night, Cedar. Sleep well, and don�t worry about any of this.�

�Oh, this is the last thing I�ll worry about.� Cedar flashed him a false smile. �Good night, James.�

�And I�ll see you tomorrow as well, James.� Nena looked him full in the face. This time it was no trick of light among the trees: the fire lay buried deep in the dark pools of her eyes, and the smile promised wonders for the following night.

Bond, you just killed a man with a family!

quote:

When they had all left the clearing, Bond checked that the Saab was secure, then went back into the cabin. He blocked the door with a chair and scoured the window crevices for possible entrance points. A second dose of Harvester ants, while he slept, would be a little hard to bear.

It took a further ten minutes to repack the briefcase, after which he stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, with the Heckler & Koch automatic within easy reach.

Nena had spoken of evil. Bond could feel it now, as though Rancho Bismaquer was alive with malevolence. Earlier, he had caught a trace of SPECTRE in this place: now the scent was very strong. He had tangled with them before and his instincts were finely-tuned to them, and their first leader, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Even now, alone in this cabin on a wooded knoll, set, paradoxically, in the middle of desert, the distinct smell of Blofeld came wafting back from the hell to which Bond had sent him, during that final encounter in Japan.

One of these men was somehow connected with his old enemy. Which one? Luxor or Bismaquer? He could not tell, but he knew he would discover the truth soon enough.

He thought of the delegation, arriving in just over twelve hours, of the sinister play he had watched being enacted in the padded cell off the laboratory, next to the ice cream plant. A kind of hypnotic drug, he presumed � a �happy pill� that removed all moral scruples, leaving the victim outwardly normal but pliable beyond belief.

I cannot emphasize enough that "mind control ice cream" is far from the nuttiest plot we will get.

quote:

He looked at his watch. It was almost five in the morning and would soon be getting light. Within twenty-four hours he had to go to ground � literally: into the tunnel to the Conference Centre. In the darkness, Bond smiled, thinking of the irony if it turned out to be just another mundane and boring business conference, all above board. Yet his training and experience with SPECTRE told him this would not be so.

# ? Nov 21, 2020 09:30

Runcible Cat: May 28, 2007; Ignoring this post

chitoryu12 posted:

.....that was your assassination method?

Ants?

TFW your villain turns out to be Ian Miles Cheong.

chitoryu12 posted:

I'm very eager to see how you explain this to your host.

This would be the perfect time for Bond to disappear into the woods while Cedar scrabbles through the ashes pretending to mourn, but sensible plots have long since vanished from the rear-view mirror. What the poo poo is going on here?

# ? Nov 21, 2020 11:30

Lord Zedd-Repulsa: Jul 21, 2007; Devour a good book.

Mind control ice cream is pretty silly but I think we all need laughs right now. Looking forward to seeing where the book -- and series -- go from here.

# ? Nov 21, 2020 22:54

Ripley: Jan 21, 2007

Between the plotting and chitoryu's comments this is definitely the funniest Bond novel so far.

(I really truly don't understand the plot or why anyone on any side is playing along. It almost makes more sense if the hosts are just creepy-looking but well-meaning ice cream enthusiasts while our protagonists murder their employees, blow up their guest accommodation and flirt over corpses.)

# ? Nov 21, 2020 23:27

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 15: Grand Prix

quote:

The sun climbed into a diamond-clear sky, and you could already feel the dormant heat of the day. Within an hour or so it would become scorching: a day for staying in the cool and sipping iced drinks, for lazing and passing the time with a good conversationalist � preferably female, Bond thought.

He had not slept for long. An hour had been spent going over the Saab. These people had tricks up their sleeves, but so did 007�s Saab Turbo, though he could leave nothing to chance. The Saab had to be perfect. Then even allowing for a highly souped-up engine, Bond was confident that the Shelby-American, driven by Walter Luxor, would stand little real chance.

With the turbo-charger in full operation, a normal Saab 900 can reach a cruising speed of 125 m.p.h. with ease. Restrictions forbid commercial models to exceed this maximum, and the turbo-charger itself normally limits performance to within the 125 m.p.h. range. But increase the fuel-line pressure to wind up the boost, add in the special rally conversion kit, and you get really high performance.

Bond, in fact, knew of police forces in the world which used Saab Turbos with these very variations. �What�s the use of a turbo to us, if we can�t catch a commercial turbo?� one senior police officer had said to him.

Indeed, as shown by this example in Switzerland.

quote:

Bond had himself already clocked over 180 m.p.h. on an open track, after his car was fitted with the new water-injection system, and there was no reason why he should not do it today. He did not fear the possibility of a blow-out or even of a well-placed bullet in a tyre, for his personalised car ran on Michelin Autoporteur tyres, lookalikes of the TRX tyres, which are standard. The Autoporteurs are possessed of properties spoken about only in hushed tones within the motor industry.

I guess Bond gave up on the Dunlop Denovos he used in the previous book.

quote:

No problems, Bond thought as, with air conditioning at full blast, he eased the Silver Beast along the side road which ran by the outside of the circuit. Markus Bismaquer was plainly visible, with Nena and Cedar, in front of the grandstand, which already seemed to be three-quarters full. Bismaquer�s staff had obviously turned out � or been dragooned into being spectators for this special occasion.

Bond pulled the Saab into the slip road leading to the pits, coming to a standstill beside Bismaquer�s group. There was no sign of Walter Luxor and the Shelby-American.

�James, you look quite the part.�

Nena Bismaquer�s smile was so natural and all-embracing that Bond could not resist giving her a kiss on the cheek, something which he normally deplored. Then he realised that Cedar Leiter was giving him a hard look.

�Morning, Cedar,� he said cheerfully, kissing her on both cheeks. �Twice for luck.�

For comfort, Bond wore a light blue and red track suit � bought with the other items in Springfield � and little else. Even with the air conditioning, he knew it would get hot out there behind the wheel, especially if Walter Luxor pressed him.

Why did Bond buy a tracksuit while shopping? Who knows!

While this is the first time Bond wears one, it would not be the last. A View to a Kill a few years later would have Bond bring a horrid FILA velour tracksuit along as part of his disguise, at a time when tracksuits were becoming fashion for those like New Jersey mobsters. Skyfall would more sensibly put Bond in one as workout clothes during his physical evaluation to return to active duty.

quote:

�James, I hope you slept the sleep of the just,� Bismaquer roared with his accustomed mirth, slapping Bond on the back just hard enough to make the skin tingle.

�Oh yes. Like the proverbial log.� Bond looked straight into Bismaquer�s face. Gone was any sign of the previous night�s strain.

�Do you want a few practice runs, James, before we start? It looks easy from here, but I can promise you that the chicane and the zig-zag on the far side are real bitches. I know, I built it.�

H. Jon Benjamin voice: "You know what are real bitches, Markus? ANTS!"

quote:

�Okay, I�ll take her around a couple of times to get the feel.� Bond nodded towards the petrol pumps. �Then can I fill up, deal with my oil, and all that?�

�We�ve got a whole crew for you, James.� Bismaquer pointed to five of his men, dressed in overalls. �The real thing. You want to get your spare wheel out, in case you need a change? We�ve got everything at your disposal.�

�I�ll manage. Ten laps, wasn�t it?�

�Yes. And don�t forget, the crew�s there if you need help. We have track marshals standing by, in case anything big goes wrong.�

Did Bond detect something in Bismaquer�s voice? A hint? Some sense of expecting something to go wrong? Well, they�d just have to wait and see. In the end it would be the best driver, and not the best car, that would be first across the finishing line.

"Welp, walking into obvious assassination attempts is my thing. Let's go!"

quote:

Bond waved to the group, winked at Cedar and climbed back into the Saab. He pulled on his gloves and adjusted the Polaroid sun glasses.

Yes, the famous Polaroid camera company also makes sunglasses! Company founder Edwin Land had done research into light polarization and initially founded Polaroid as a sunglasses manufacturer in 1937, which rapidly expanded into all sorts of light-related products like 3D film and infrared night vision. The instant cameras everyone knows them for were merely one of many projects that just ended up becoming a worldwide success. While Polaroid would declare bankruptcy in 2001 due to a failure to properly expand into digital camera and scanning technology, the company lives on owned by PLR IP Holdings, LLC, the largest shareholder of the Impossible Project to produce new instant film cameras.

quote:

Easing on to the grid, Bond took a final swift look at the instruments. Twice around for luck, he thought. A slowish first run � around seventy where possible � and a faster second, taking the Saab up to near a hundred, but not going higher. Keep the trumps up your sleeve. He smiled, slipping the gear lever into first, releasing the hand brake, and pulling away. He gathered speed, going through the gears, taking her to fourth as the speedo meter hit fifty and giving the car a fraction more power to knock the revs over the 3,000 mark; then bringing in the turbo � a comforting whine � hitting seventy miles per hour right on the button.

On the first run, Bond did not go right through the gears into fifth. He kept the engine in check, getting the feel of the track at the relatively low speed.

From the grid to the chicane there was a good two and a half miles of straight track, but once you hit the chicane, both car and driver knew about it. From a distance the track looked as though it merely narrowed, then went through a graceful, though tight, elongated S shape. It was not until the Saab came out into the last curve of the S that Bond realised the chicane ended with a nasty, sudden, sharp lump, like a small humped-back bridge.

I'm sure it won't be a problem.

quote:

The bends proved to be no problem, even at sixty m.p.h., calling for only a quick movement of the wheel � left, right, left, right. The Saab�s curved spoiler, and its weight, held the machine to the track like glue. It was only when he hit the hump that Bond realised the danger.

At sixty, the car lifted off the ground for a second, as it crested during the final easy curve. For a moment, all four wheels were in the air, and it needed considerable concentration not to go off-line as the spinning tyres touched down, screeching against the metalled surface.

For the record, jumping a car is not good for its health. Even professional stunt cars regularly suffer major damage, often enough to write it off, from performing big ramps. The Dukes of Hazzard had hundreds of General Lees due to the damage the famous jumps caused, reaching the point of repairing cars until they were totaled (normally they'd only last one jump before retirement) and even using radio-controlled models to try and save money on how many vehicles they were wrecking.

quote:

Bond exhaled, releasing all the breath from his lungs, realising the dangers the hump might create at real speed. He held the car out of the turn and into another mile of straight track, before the more obvious, vicious, right-angle bend.

He held her at seventy, leaving the change down until almost the last moment, going into the right-hander in third but keeping the power on to make certain there was no tendency to slide outwards. Again, the Saab did her stuff. Bond always likened cornering at speed, in this machine, to being held to the road by some invisible hand. When the pressure was really on, you could feel the rear pushed down by the speed of airflow caught in the curved spoiler.

The book continues through a complete description of the course. A Z-bend, lots of straights and gentle curves, etc. The full geography isn't really important for you to read paragraphs of. The most difficult part is that there's a 90-degree corner right after the aforementioned hump, which Bond negotiates expertly to land right in front of the crowd.

quote:

Through the windscreen he saw Bismaquer�s face, a small crease of concern between the eyes. Walter Luxor, who had now appeared, fully dressed in racing overalls, decorated with the Bismaquer insignia, took no notice. He busied himself with the silver Shelby-American, which was getting a final going over from his crew.

Bond stayed in his seat for a moment, watching the vehicle that had been matched against his own, trying to recall all he knew about the car.

The original competition Ford Mustang had been exceptionally successful in its day: first and second in the 1964 Tour de France touring car class, where its many variations showed fine performances. The GT 350, as Shelby-America�s derivation of the Mustang was designated, had sleek body lines of the old fastback variety, the most obvious outward alterations being a large air scoop on top of the bonnet, and rear-wheel air scoops. The earlier versions usually had fibreglass construction around the bonnet and there were a multitude of possible combinations of engine and transmission, together with the necessary special-handling package to stop the alarming roll experienced on cornering with the stock Mustang suspension.

From what he could recall, Bond thought the car lighter than its parent Mustangs but capable of speeds well in excess of the 130 mark. The one he looked at now, through the Saab�s windscreen, seemed at first sight to be an original. But, the closer he viewed the car, the more uncertain Bond became. The bodywork had a very solid look to it � an indefinable depth. Steel, he thought. Like a Shelby-American, but only in its lines. The tyres, he could see, were heavy-duty, and Bond would have bet now that he was much more than evenly matched. Certainly the design had to be a stress factor at very high speeds; but it would have been nice to look under that bonnet. Bismaquer, being the man he was, would be unlikely to match a standard, souped-up car like this against a Saab Turbo. Whatever engine they had hidden away, it would almost certainly be, like Bond�s, turbo-charged.

So a cooler car than Bond's Saab?

quote:

Sliding from the driving seat, Bond walked quickly towards the car, calling out within a couple of paces of the machine to attract Luxor�s attention.

Bismaquer moved with unexpected agility in an attempt to cut Bond off from getting too close � a move which finally succeeded, but not before Bond managed to get a hand on the bonnet. It was stressed steel all right. The feel was there under his palm. From the one quick downward push Bond managed, the suspension also seemed very firm.

�Good luck, Walter . . .� Bond began, as Bismaquer cut him away from the Shelby-American. �I only wanted to wish Walter good luck,� said Bond with a scowl, as though offended, feeling Bismaquer�s large hand around his arm literally pulling him away.

�Walter doesn�t like to be distracted before a race, James,� Bismaquer growled. �He�s an old professional, remember . . .�

�And this is a friendly race, with an important side bet between us, Markus.� Bond sounded cool, though concern had already begun to nag at the back of his mind.

Bismaquer probably had a car capable of a higher performance, but he could not know about the water injection, or the increased boost, on the Saab. Bond was in no doubt, though, about Luxor. He was up against a man who really knew racing, and � in addition � a man who knew the Bismaquer track backwards.

�Okay, Markus. You tell your professional from me that I hope the best man wins. That�s all. Now, can I juice up the Saab?�

Bismaquer looked at him blankly. There was something dreadfully sinister about the gaze, for the eyes were blank and the mouth sullenly slack � no hint, or trace, of the expansive buffoon. Bond recognised the look with a certain coldness in the pit of his stomach.

It was the expression he had seen many times, the dead expression of a professional hit man. A contract killer, about to do his job.

As suddenly as the look came, it vanished, and Bismaquer smiled, his whole face lighting up.

�My boys�ll do it all for you, James.�

Very normal. Not evil.

quote:

�No thank you.� Bond preferred to see to everything himself � gas, oil, hydraulics, coolant.

The final check took around twenty minutes, after which Bond walked over to Bismaquer who chatted amiably with Nena and Cedar.

�I�m ready,� Bond announced, allowing his gaze to take in all three of them.

There was a pause, then Bismaquer nodded.

�If you�d like to come and draw for positions on the grid . . .�

�Oh� � Bond laughed � �let�s keep it friendly. Surely we can just toss for it here. I�m sure Walter won�t mind, you . . .�

�James,� Bismaquer said softly. Did Bond detect menace? Or was he merely edgy, jumping at verbal shadows? �James. You must understand about Walter. He takes this very seriously. I�ll see if he�s ready.�

"We only let him out of his cage for special visitors. I'm not sure if he's fully acclimated yet."

quote:

Left alone with the women, Bond did not even attempt small talk. �I�ll say farewell now, ladies,� he said allowing his lips to break into a winning smile. �See you after the race.�

�For God�s sake, Bond, be careful.� Cedar walked with him for a moment, speaking low. �The bastards are out to get you. Don�t take any risks. It�s not worth it. Please.�

�Don�t worry.� Bond waved cheerfully, turning to see Bismaquer approaching with Walter Luxor.

Luxor was most correct. They shook hands, said may the best man win, and tossed for the starting position on the grid. Bond lost. Luxor took the inside, right-hand, lane.

Bismaquer intoned solemnly, �This will be a race of a full ten laps of the circuit. Your lap numbers will be held up in the pits as you pass. Walter�s in red; James, yours in blue. I am acting as chief marshal, and you will obey my instructions. You will drive down to your positions on the grid, then shut down your engines. I shall place myself on the starter�s rostrum � over there � and raise the flag. You will both indicate that you have an unrestricted view of me by giving a thumbs-up sign. I shall then wave the flag in a circular motion, and you will start engines. After that I shall raise the flag, count down from ten to zero, and drop the flag. You may then drive. The flag will not come down again until the winning car passes the rostrum, at the end of the tenth lap. Is that clear?�

Bond and Luxor drive up to their starting positions. Bond's plan is to let Luxor take the lead for half the race to help him analyze the situation and better learn the track, then speed up and overtake for the finish.

quote:

Bismaquer was looking at him. Bond raised his thumb, and the flag twirled. Luxor�s engine fired with a roar, denoting more power than would usually be under the bonnet of a Shelby-American.

The Saab grumbled quietly, and Bond glanced around, noting the distance between the two cars and, at the same moment, catching Luxor�s sunken eyes. They seemed to bore into him with an expression of intense hatred.

Bond faced forward and signalled to Bismaquer.

The flag went up. Bond slid into first, released the hand brake, and hovered his right foot over the accelerator.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxQPHPuY1X0

quote:

The flag came down.

The so-called Shelby-American shook its tail as it streaked away from the grid. With such a fast start, Luxor was out to thrash him completely. As Bond started to build up power, he realised that Bismaquer�s driver intended to put a lot of distance between them, in the shortest possible time. He kicked down hard on the accelerator, bringing the turbo in quickly, watching the speed rise.

Already, Luxor must have been averaging a hundred on the straight before the chicane. Bond kept piling on the pressure, hearing the turbo whine like a jet engine as he thrust the gears into fifth, passing the 120 mark, which brought him close up behind the sloping fastback of Luxor�s car.

It was a matter of feet now, and Bond was forced to decelerate and change down to hold the hundred, riding directly behind Luxor. He saw the brake lights flicker, as they came up to the chicane. Bond changed down again rather than use his brakes, easing the car through the sashay of the chicane, the speedometer showing around seventy as Luxor appeared to become airborne over the hump at the end.

Bond hit the hump at just under seventy miles per hour, leaving his hands loose on the wheel, until he felt the solid jar as the Saab came into contact with the track again. Then he changed up, his foot toeing the accelerator.

Around the full hundred appeared to be Luxor�s safe limit, and Bond followed him through the right-angle turn without letting up on speed. He allowed the Saab to drift in the Shelby-American�s wake to the right, then hard right, feeling the rear tyres protest as they kept their grip. Ten of those, and the rubber would really start to burn off, Bond thought. By the time the knowledge had been assimilated, they were at the Z bend.

Here, Luxor had his own technique � using the brakes constantly on the hairpins of the zigs and zags of the bend, but putting on power, even during the short runs between.

Bond figures Luxor is a careful driver, cruising at high speed but with reserves in case he needs them. He'll need to outthink him to get the lead, and that involves throwing out his original plan and deciding to pass him earlier.

quote:

The Saab was less than six feet behind the square tail of Luxor�s car as they came out of the final turn on lap three. Now, he thought, watching Luxor drift slightly to the left. Not really enough room, but, if he obeyed the rules, Luxor would have to let Bond through.

Weren't you like 90% sure this was an assassination plot before?

quote:

A fraction of pressure on the wheel and the Saab slid to the right, coming very close to the Shelby-American. Further to the right. Bond saw the edge of the track too close to his front inside wheel, but he pressed on, up into fifth gear and a hard kick down. The turbo reacted, and he felt the push of power, like a jet engine. The Saab�s nose was reaching out, half way down Luxor�s chassis, unmistakably clearing to overtake.

Then, with a jarring horror, Bond saw Luxor veer over at an angle, cutting across to stop him, increasing speed so that Bond almost had to stand on the brakes to avoid slamming into the other car�s side. In a fraction of a second, the Saab was behind again, losing ground. Bastard, Bond snarled to himself. He changed down, dropping speed to negotiate the chicane. Once through, he put his foot down again, closing so that they went into the right-angle bend almost locked together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKqWcaheerM

quote:

This time, Bond felt considerable drift, the Saab sliding over to the left during the final moments of the turn. He glanced at the head-up digital figures of the speedometer and was not surprised. They registered 105; and, by the time he was aware of the speed building to 125, the zig-zag of the Z bend was on them.

Try him on the far straight, Bond thought. Force the bastard off the road if need be; the Saab had the weight to do it.

They came out of the Z bend, Luxor still accelerating and Bond determined not to lose an inch, trying to position for a breakthrough.

Then it happened.

He knew he would be able to prove nothing later. The blame would be put firmly on an overheated turbo, or some other excuse. At the time, however, he saw both the manoeuvre and the action quite plainly.

Luxor accelerated slightly, moving ahead by a few feet � three or four at the most. As Bond curled his own toes on the Saab�s accelerator, he saw distinctly the small object drop away from Luxor�s rear bumper. For a fraction of a second, he thought Luxor was in trouble: that stress was causing a break-up of some rear component. But the whooshing noise under the Saab made the truth plain enough.

Luxor had jettisoned some form of incendiary device, set to ignite as it hit the track.

All Bond was aware of after that was a sheet of flame surrounding the car, engulfing him, and then rapidly dying away.

How the gently caress could you not prove that?

Wait, why the gently caress do you even care about proof? You're a spy! You're an assassin! You're here to take down the greatest terrorist organization in the world! What does it even matter what you can or can't "prove" when you just witnessed mind control ice cream and an ant invasion? You could have called in the entire army and detonated the lab with your demo kit that you instead used to exterminate insects!

Honestly, how the gently caress is this plot even happening at this point? So much has happened and it's just being ignored for the next crazy event.

quote:

They were about midway to the penultimate bend, and James Bond at first thought the bid had failed. The enveloping flame could only have been there for a second, and he had probably outrun it at this speed. Then he experienced a sense of shock as the fire warning buzzed and the red light began to blink on the dashboard.

One of the last things Bond had fitted to the Saab was the relatively new on-board, fire detection and extinguisher system, marketed and developed by Graviner. Fixed-temperature detectors � set high, and at a very fine pitch for the Saab � monitored the engine and underside of the car, especially those areas adjacent to the fuel tank. The guts of the system were situated deep within the Saab�s large boot. In a protected bed sat a seamless chrome and steel container, filled, under pressure, with the most efficient of extinguishants, Halon 1211. From the container, spray pipes ran to the engine compartment and around the car, particularly along the underside.

The extinguisher automatically fired when the detectors signalled a fire warning; while the whole system could also be activated manually from a thump button on the dashboard. The light and buzzer warnings were also automatically operated the moment heat set off the sensors.

In the present case, fire had engulfed the car, catching the underside, thereby activating the system without further help from Bond.

Literally within seconds, ten kilogrammes of Halon 1211 engulfed the Saab, sweeping from underside to engine compartment, extinguishing the fire immediately and leaving no damage in its wake, for the properties of Halon are non-damaging to engine components, electrical wiring, or humans. It is also non-corrosive and, once the fire had been extinguished, the evaporation rate is so fast that no residue remains.

Halon isn't quite as much of a miracle as it seems. Smaller internal combustion engines can be shut down by spraying them with halon (which led to a rule banning halon weapons in robot combat fighting like BattleBots due to being cheap) and larger engines will continue functioning, which can allow fresh air to be sucked into the engine and reignite the fire if it hasn't been stopped at the source. Halon will interrupt the chemical reaction that creates fire, but it won't shut down an engine in a state that causes one.

quote:

Bond, very much aware of what was going on, changed down, braked, and took the last two bends at a moderate sixty-five. It was only when he was into the long straight � past the stand � knowing that he was entering the fifth lap, that Bond opened up the car again, relieved to feel no change in engine response.

Luxor, however, was well away � a good two miles ahead, just entering the chicane. Deep within his head, where anger boiled, Bond willed coolness. Luxor had deliberately attempted to burn him to death on the track � expecting the incendiary device to blow the Saab�s petrol tank and probably the turbo-charger at the same time.

I think when your opponent drops a loving bomb in your path, it's acceptable to put a few .44 caliber holes in his car.

quote:

Settling himself firmly, Bond did not let his eyes waver from the road ahead. His hands ran through the gears as he increased power, roaring along the straight towards the chicane. His speed rose to over the hundred until the little green digital figures on the head-up display steadied at 130.

Bond changed down, but still took the chicane at his highest speed yet. The Saab rose like an aircraft, rotating on take-off, then bounced on its rear end first, almost out of control. Bond wrestled with the wheel. The screen of trees off the edge of the track slewed into vision. He heard the tyres protest until he brought the car back on line, pouring on a little more speed, then slowing as the Z bend approached.

From then onwards, it was a question of using speed on the straights, without trying to push the Saab to its full stretch, in order to gain on Luxor, who was going all out now, clinging to his lead.

It took another two laps before the Saab came within striking distance of its adversary. Then, nose to bumper, they crossed the line once more � into the eighth lap. Bond searched for his chance, jinking and pushing hard, while Luxor piled on more and more power.

Walter Luxor was rattled, Bond decided. The more he pushed, the more Luxor began taking chances. His driving was still immaculate, countering every move Bond made, but speed appeared to be his blind spot. He risked going through the chicane, the right-angle and Z bends, with the narrowest of safety limits.

Lap nine. Only one to follow, then it would be all over. For the penultimate time, the stands blurred past them. Bond realised he was involuntarily gritting his teeth. Whatever the consequences, there had to be some way of overtaking Luxor.

The idea germinated fast. One hope in a thousand; a risk which could end in disaster. They slid through the chicane, Luxor slowing this time as he hit the hump. Perhaps the driver�s nerves were, at last, getting ragged. Now the killing, dangerous, right-angle bend.

Gardner has come across the perfect writing style for making a car race seem kinda dull.

quote:

Luxor lined himself up, keeping far to the right � his wheels almost touching the grass at the track�s edge � in order to take the punishing bend at one hundred. Bond, three feet or so behind him, was himself pushing almost a hundred.

Luxor went into the turn, holding to the right, fighting the strain, to stay close to the verge for as long as possible, before pressure and speed forced the car over to the left. He reached the maximum point of turn and the car, under the stress of angle, speed, and torque, started to slide outwards. A touch on the brakes slowed him fractionally.

It was the moment Bond had been waiting for: that second before Luxor was dragged to the left and forced to slow. Bond took his final opportunity.

Instead of following directly in Luxor�s slipstream, the Saab suddenly went out of line, flicking to the left. Bond checked the turn on the wheel, feeling the stress hauling the Saab even further to the left than he intended, correcting with the wheel, steering right, and knowing that, if the wheels locked, he would be in a spin and off the road.

The Saab was drifting. Then, for a second, a space appeared � clear road on the bend to Luxor�s left. In a moment, Luxor�s car would itself be dragged into that clear area, just as it had been each time they took the right-angle bend. In that fraction of time, Bond felt the Saab steady. He kicked on the accelerator, sensing the Saab�s spoiler push the rear down on to the road. His own body was forced back in the driving seat as full power took hold.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFV1BLAjUbY

quote:

Almost aloud, Bond prayed that the Turbo�s constantly-increasing forward speed would overcome any further slide to the left and that he could still hold the Saab into the turn without touching the verge. The turbo-charger whined, rising to a pitch of noise which should, by rights, have ended in some kind of explosion.

Then, quite suddenly, it was over. The Saab shot through on the outside of the sliding Shelby-American, the numbers on the head-up display just below the 140 line. Bond straightened the wheels and poured power through the engine.

The front of Luxor�s car must have just missed grazing the Saab�s rear as Bond overtook. For a moment, the low body and windscreen of the other car appeared to fill the Saab�s rear-view mirror. Then it dropped back a few feet. As they slowed to go into the Z bend, Luxor managed to stay close, as though attached by a cable. But as Bond cleared the final hairpin, he slammed through the gears, up to the fifth, his right foot smoothly depressing the accelerator.

With a clear road ahead at last, the Saab leaped forward. He touched 150 on the far straight, slowed for the two corners, and, at the start of the last lap, took the car right through its paces. At one point � before the chicane � the numbers hit the magic figure of 175, then a little higher on the final far straight. Luxor was now well behind by three or four miles.

It was only when Bond brought the car towards the last two bends, that he began to gear down, allowing the speed to drop away. Then he took an extra lap, at a relatively gentle pace, allowing the engine to settle and himself to readjust. He had seen Bismaquer�s face, dark and angry, as he brought down the chequered flag, proclaiming Bond the winner.

Oh, that's it. It's over!

quote:

Yet, when the Saab finally coasted into the pits, with the grandstand crowd applauding even though their man had lost, Bismaquer seemed to have regained his temper.

�A fair race, James. A fair and exciting race. That car of yours sure knows how to move.�

Bond, dripping with sweat, did not answer immediately but turned to watch Walter Luxor � the skull face more menacing than usual � coast in behind him.

�I don�t know how fair, Markus,� Bond said at last. �If that�s really a converted Shelby-American, I�ll eat my track suit. As for the firework display . . .�

�Yes, what happened there?� Bismaquer�s pink, scrubbed face was a mask of innocence.

�I think Walter must�ve been having a quick cigarette and dropped a match. Look forward to my bonus, Markus. A great race. Now, if you�ll excuse me . . .�

Just not even making it a thing, huh?

quote:

He turned and walked back towards the Saab, which would certainly need his attention. But Bismaquer was at his heels. �We�ll settle all debts tonight, James � the money, I mean. And I�ll take the prints. But then, I�m afraid my hospitality has got to end. Dinner tonight � seven o�clock for seven-thirty, then we can clear up the business before we eat? Okay?�

�Fine.�

�I�m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave in the morning. You see, we have this conference . . . the first people are arriving tonight . . .�

�I thought you kept clear of conferences?� Bond was already half way into the Saab, pulling on the bonnet release.

Bismaquer hesitated, then laughed � not the booming guffaw, but a deep nervous rumble. �Yes. Yes, that�s true. I can�t stand conferences. Can�t really stand crowds any more. I guess that was what finally convinced me I should throw in the towel in politics. Did you know I had political ambitions at one time?�

"The party I was with no longer exists, unfortunately."

quote:

�No, but I can believe it,� Bond lied.

�I usually keep well clear of the conferences here.� Bismaquer appeared to be searching for words. �You see,� he went on, �well, these people coming tonight are all automotive engineers. Walter is an expert.� His face shaped a slow, rather sly, grin. �I guess you know that by now. You realise he built that Shelby replica with his own hands?�

�Extras and all?� Bond�s eyebrows tilted.

Bismaquer boomed out a laugh, as if it was all a good joke. Either of us could have died out there because of that car, Bond reflected; yet Bismaquer thinks it�s funny.

The bear-like man hardly paused for breath. �Well, these people being engineers and . . . Well, Walter�s addressing them tomorrow morning: some very advanced talk on mechanics, I don�t know what. Like a fool � and to make him happy � I promised to be there too . . . So there won�t be much time for me to play host to Cedar and you.�

Designing ice cream trucks?

quote:

Bond nodded. �Okay. We�ll be away in the morning, Markus.� Then he turned back to the car.

�Help yourself from the barbecue,� Bismaquer called back over his shoulder.

Bond wondered when the action would start, as he watched the big man walk away, flat-footed and heavy. Either Bismaquer was going to let them get off the ranch and then have them picked up outside, or he would see to it here, on the premises. If the latter, then everything could be blown. He needed to talk to Nena, among other things, and then go to ground in the Conference Centre, his last hope of gaining hard information. If Bismaquer pounced first the whole mission would be lost.

Make sure to go to bed in your cabin with the unlocked door before it!

quote:

From the start, Bond had been certain the spectacular, and lethal, hijacks were part of a resurrected SPECTRE�s plan: a money-raising operation for something much bigger. All he had felt, and seen, since arriving in the United States � and particularly at Rancho Bismaquer � pointed towards a SPECTRE-directed coup of very large proportions. The hub lay here, as did Ernst Stavro Blofeld�s successor.

Now, after Bismaquer�s words, he knew that it would be necessary to drop out of sight at any moment, even if it meant leaving Cedar to face the music. Luxor or Bismaquer? he wondered. Which was the new Blofeld? Which of them held the key?

Bond�s concern mounted as he worked on the Saab, then backed it towards the petrol pumps. He would at least have a full tank, with an oil and coolant top-up if warranted.

Luxor had not even bothered to come over and shake hands or congratulate him on the win. Worse, Cedar had disappeared without exchanging a word with him, hustled away, with Nena, by the security staff.

Oh well. I'm sure it means nothing.

quote:

After the adrenalin-pumping danger of the race, James Bond now felt a reaction which came near to depression. Bismaquer could not be seen anywhere, and only a couple of chefs tended the deserted barbecue. Bond went over and helped himself to a massive steak, bread and coffee. At least he would not go hungry.

He dealt with the Saab quickly, glancing up to the stands which were being cleared. The only thing possible was to watch his own back, return to the cabin, then leave quickly and hide and wait until the night. Then down to Tara for dinner, armed to the teeth, strong in the hope that Bismaquer would not give an order for him to be snatched � with Cedar � before he could go to ground and get some real answers.

As the Saab drew away from the pits, a man with a neat military moustache and dressed in a white silk jacket watched from high in the grandstand. The car purred out of sight, heading for the rising, wooded ground.

Mike Mazzard smiled and left the stand.

# ? Nov 23, 2020 20:25

Strategic Tea: Sep 1, 2012

quote:

�Yes. And don�t forget, the crew�s there if you need help. We have track marshals standing by, in case anything big goes wrong.�

Did Bond detect something in Bismaquer�s voice? A hint? Some sense of expecting something to go wrong? Well, they�d just have to wait and see. In the end it would be the best driver, and not the best car, that would be first across the finishing line.

Fresh from the Agency archives, here is a declassified surveillance photo of Bismaquer's pit crew:

# ? Nov 23, 2020 21:01

Trin Tragula: Apr 22, 2005

quote:

In the present case, fire had engulfed the car, catching the underside, thereby activating the system without further help from Bond.

That didn't work. That didn't work, Michael! You hit the wrong part of him, my friend!

# ? Nov 24, 2020 04:12

Gatac: Apr 22, 2008; Fifty Cent's next biopic.

The latest How To Drink may be of interest to the thread, as Greg attempts to get to the bottom of the Vesper once and for all.

# ? Nov 24, 2020 08:06

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Package acquired.

# ? Nov 28, 2020 04:54

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 16: Nena

quote:

Even at eleven-thirty, the night seemed to have lost little heat from the day.

Bond, clad now in dark slacks, a black turtle-neck and short jacket � to hide the holstered VP70 � lay among the trees, covered by branches and odd ferns already gathered during the afternoon.

The picture seen previously of Roger Moore in Live and Let Die was the first time Bond wore the "tactleneck", but Connery's Bond was a common user of this sort of outfit. In Thunderball and Goldfinger he did his sneaking wearing a black long-sleeved polo (or black sweater over a matching polo), black slacks, and black shoes or ankle boots. While true black is ironically quite bad for stealth (no dimly lit environment is literally black unless there's no light at all, so black actually stands out as darker than its background), this kind of outfit is completely suitable for a spy who would want their stealth uniform to blend in as normal civilian clothes.

quote:

Around him the noises of night animals, combined with the chirruping cicadas, had become a natural background. His hearing was acute enough to break through the series of calls and songs, and would pick up any human sound, should it come near.

In some senses, the events of the day had been anti-climactic. Bond, on getting back to the cabin, had taken a quick shower, changed, and made certain all was ready for a fast getaway. He had laid out clothes for dinner that night and packed everything else, even the reassembled briefcase, which he locked away in the Saab.

All he carried was the set of pick-locks and tools, together with the Heckler & Koch, plus spare magazines. He went through the routine quickly, leaving himself in the clothes he now wore, except for a black shirt, for the day, instead of the turtle-neck, which, he considered, would be more suitable later that night.

His hiding place was constructed with equal haste, among the trees in a corner of the clearing, affording good sight-lines of the track, cabin and Saab. There Bond stayed until dusk, leaving soon after six, to change into the lightweight suit, decent shoes and tie, before driving down to Tara.

Small talk before dinner is uneventful. Nena is flirty, Cedar is signaling to Bond that they need to chat alone, Luxor is sulking in the corner. Bismaquer wants everything with the prints taken care of, so Bond heads to get them.

quote:

Bond went down the steps to the Saab, retrieved the prints, and followed Bismaquer into the house. They went straight to the print room, where, with no fuss, Bond handed over the prints in exchange for a small briefcase which Bismaquer opened. �Count it if you want to,� he growled pleasantly. �Only you�ll miss dinner if you do. The whole amount�s in there. One million for Professor Penbrunner, and another for yourself.�

The "briefcase full of money" trope has actually been tested! An average briefcase can hold about 24,000 bills, allowing it to easily hold $2.4 million if all in hundreds just like Bond is getting.

The problem? Weight. That amount of bills would weigh 53 pounds, plus the weight of the briefcase itself. Actors can easily haul money briefcases around on film because they're simply empty props.

quote:

�I believe you.� Bond closed the case. �Nice to do business, Markus. If I have anything else . . .�

�I�m sure you�ll be of use to me again, James.� Bismaquer gave him a quick, almost suspicious look. �In fact, I�m positive about it. Now, if you don�t mind returning to the others, I�ll put these away. I have a horror of anybody else knowing where I keep my really rare treasures.�

Bond hefted the briefcase. �And this needs locking up, safe and sound. Thank you, Markus.�

On reaching the portico again, Bond found it empty but for Cedar.

�Nena Bismaquer�s talking to the cook, and the death�s head just wandered off,� Cedar told him quickly.

Bond was already half way down the steps. He called back quietly: �Come and help me put this away.�

She joined him at the back of the car, and immediately Bond detected the vibrations of fear emanating from her, like an animal.

She's just horny, Bond.

quote:

�They�ve got something really heavy going on, James. Christ, you had me worried in that race.�

�I wasn�t exactly happy myself, Cedar. But listen to me.� He told her, in a few words, that � providing they were both left alone when dinner was over � he would be returning to the cabin. �I�m going to do exactly as we planned, only Bismaquer�s given us marching orders for tomorrow morning. I suspect they plan to let us get clear and then really nail us, but I could be quite wrong. There�s a chance they�ll snatch both of us here, tonight, on the ranch. Do you still have that weapon?�

She gave a little nod, whispering that it was strapped to the inside of her thigh and that it was damned uncomfortable too.

�Right.� Bond put the briefcase in the boot, slammed it shut and twisted the key. �As soon as you can, after dinner. I want you to get out. Don�t come anywhere near the knoll or the cabins, but around dawn try and make your way to the place I told you about, where I�m going to stash the Saab. Steal a car, walk, do it any way you can. But get out. Don�t get too near the Saab, just hide and watch. Meeting and pickup times as we arranged.�

"My last escape from the villain's estate by car went great, so we'll just do that again this year."

quote:

�Okay. There�re things to tell you, though, James.�

�Quickly then.�

�They know exactly who, and what we are,� she began. �And Mike Mazzard arrived last night.�

�And the other three hoods?�

�I don�t know, but Mazzard got hell from Luxor, for not being able to control his men. Apparently they were acting without orders in Washington. No harm was to come to you, James. I�m not so sure about myself � they called me Cedar Leiter, by the way � but they want you alive.�

�The car race . . . ?�

�Was to keep you off-balance. And the Harvester ants as well. They knew you weren�t going to be in that cabin. The ants were definitely meant for me. Apparently you�re fireproof. You should have heard Luxor. He really let Mazzard have it. That�s all for sure, James. I heard everything. Orders are that you�re to be kept on tap but not killed.�

But why?

You'll see!

quote:

�Well . . .�

�That�s not all. Something�s happened over at the warehouse.�

Bond made questioning noises.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnsiZOJjfUg

quote:

�I saw by accident. A refrigerated truck came out of the trees, at the back of the warehouse, late this afternoon; and there are at least two more down there. The first truck was heading towards the airfield. They�re moving that ice cream.�

The least dramatic sentence in history.

quote:

Bond�s brow was lined in thought. �I wish we knew more,� he murmured. �Perhaps I will by tomorrow night. Be very careful, though; if it�s some criminal � or terrorist � activity and we�ve vanished, they�ll be digging the place up to find us. I . . .� He stopped, conscious that somebody had come on to the portico.

A second later, Nena Bismaquer spoke: �James? Cedar? Didn�t anyone call you? Dinner�s served.�

They went back up the steps, and Cedar entered the house first, leaving Bond to shepherd Nena through the great high doors. She let Cedar get well ahead, then turned, saying softly to Bond, �James. I�ll be with you as soon as I can after dinner. Please be careful. It�s very dangerous. We have to talk.�

Bond merely bowed his head to signal he understood. The black eyes gave him a pleading look, quite out of character with the sophisticated, very beautiful French woman who walked on with poise towards the dining room.

And so we return to Bond's hiding place. At 11:35 PM, a little black sports car drives up and parks behind the Saab.

quote:

The driver killed the engine and lights. Through the night air, Bond heard the rustle of silk. He could just make out Nena Bismaquer, standing beside the car, then her voice, calling quietly, James? �James are you there?�

Softly, Bond surfaced. He crossed the clearing, one hand ready near the holstered VP70. She did not hear him until he was almost behind her.

�Oh my God. Oh James, don�t do things like that.� Nena, quivering, clung to him.

�You told me to take care,� Bond said smiling down at her.

Nena Bismaquer was still dressed as she had been at dinner in a pleated silk dress patterned in white and black, very simple but revealing her particular style and personality. Simple, maybe, Bond thought, his hand touching the smooth and provocative material, but he would bet a month�s salary on this little creation costing a fortune.

Maybe it was made by Roussillon?

quote:

�Can we go inside, James? Please.� Her lips were close to his. Once more, Bond smelled her particular scent, the clean, fresh hair, though now it was mingled with something very expensive: the touch of a distillation, probably unique, and made especially for Markus Bismaquer�s wife. For a moment, Bond felt a tiny pang of jealousy. Then she urged him again. �Please, James. Inside, please.�

"Well, if you insist" Bond said as he unzipped his pants.

quote:

Bond took a step forward, letting Nena enter the cabin first. Then he switched on the light. Almost as the cabin door closed behind them, she was in his arms, trembling, then pulling away. �I should not have come.� Her voice took on the same breathless quality he had heard in the Saab when they first kissed.

�Why then?� Bond wrapped his arms around her, feeling her turn towards him, pressing her limbs close to his.

�Why do you think?� She lifted her face and kissed him on the lips, pulling back again quickly. �No. Not yet, anyway. I don�t know what�s going on, James. All I can tell you is that Markus and Walter are both out for blood. They�re doing something really dangerous, James. That�s all I know, all I can tell you. Both of them, they hide everything from me. Men came last night, men from the East, from New York. I heard some of the conversation. Walter said that, if he didn�t win on the race track today . . .�

He'd need to upgrade to spiders?

quote:

�You looked relaxed enough at the track . . .�

�There was no way to warn you, James. You could see. I was surrounded by Markus�s men. You have to get away, James.�

�Markus has asked us to go in the morning.�

�Yes. Yes, I know . . . but . . .� She clung closer. �But they�ll be waiting, I know that. There are a lot of new people around, and I think they have the ranch surrounded � dogs, half-tracks? Is that right, half-tracks?�

�They�d be useful in desert conditions, yes.� Bond did not say that he thought as much. Bismaquer was acting as a sheep dog, moving them out and into the arms of waiting killers.

You have half-tracks? It's the 80s! Nobody has those!

quote:

�Listen, Nena.� He held her away by the shoulders, roused by her presence, the smooth skin against his hands and the feel of the silk. �Listen hard. Cedar is going. I am going. We�re both vanishing. Not tomorrow, as Markus wants, but tonight � or in the early hours. I know something�s up, so we�re going to earth here, on the ranch, until one of us can get clear . . .�

�If it�s you, James, don�t take chances. From what I�ve heard they really have got the place surrounded. Is it the money, perhaps? I don�t know.�

In the short silence that followed, there came the roar of a heavy aircraft flying low over the ranch.

Nena looked towards the cabin�s rafters. �That�ll be part of the delegation coming in. Two separate flights tonight. Either that, or one of Markus�s freighters . . .�

�Freighters?�

She gave a small, nervous laugh. �Oh, his damned ice cream. He�s in the middle of something criminal, horrible � I know that � but he can�t leave the ice cream alone. He�s got yet another new flavour, and he�s sold it to some distributor somewhere. Tons of it. They�re shipping it out tonight.�

Ice cream going to some distributor, Bond thought. Would it be straight, or spiked with whatever dreadful drug Luxor and Bismaquer had concocted? The stuff he�d seen in action, turning men into pliable, pleasant monsters who would obey, even to the selling of their wives and loved ones.

Not the wife ice cream!

quote:

�Where are you going to hide?� she asked.

�No.� Bond was sharp. �Better you should not know anything, then they can�t get at you as well. We�ll just disappear. Hang on, Nena. Just hang on and wait. Someone will come, I�ll see to that. Then the whole thing�ll be over.�

�Shall I see you again?�

�Of course.�

He felt her hand drop to his thigh. �I haven�t long.� She moved very close now, whispering in his ear. �James, just in case something happens . . .�

Why is everyone in this book so loving randy?

quote:

She did not need to finish the sentence. Gently, Bond led her in the direction of the bedroom, crossing to the bed and turning on the night-table lamp.

�No, my darling James. No lights. In the dark.�

�That�s a little old-fashioned . . .�

�For my sake. No lights.�

I promise, you are never going to guess why she doesn't want lights.

quote:

He nodded, switched off the lamp, and climbed out of his clothes, hearing the noise of her dress sliding over her head.

Naked and lying on the bed, Bond was about to place the automatic within reach when a sudden instinct took his hand up to the lamp again. �Sorry, Nena. I�ve got to have some light.�

And it reveals her pulling out a knife?

quote:

She gave a little cry as the lamp came on, revealing her slim and lithe sun-brown figure, with those magnificent long legs. She was dressed only in silk bra and panties. She was in the act of unclipping her bra.

�James. I asked you . . .� She stopped, realising that her voice had turned harsh, like a whip-lash.

Bond apologised: �I�m sorry. Jittery, Nena, that�s all. I don�t think we should be in the dark. You look so lovely, so why the modesty?�

Her face crumpled as she came slowly towards the bed. �You would have found out. Just as Markus found out. Everybody. It can�t be helped. James, I�m not a whole woman. I didn�t want you to see me. It�s always been like this. I . . . I . . . I feel deformed, and I don�t like people. . .�

Same.

quote:

He pulled her down on to the bed, a hand searching for her. Nena�s mouth opened, locking against his, and they were off again into a whirlpool of emotions, their mouths acting out the desires of their bodies.

Presently she pulled away. �The light, James. Can we have it . . . ?�

�Show me.� Bond was determined. �Whatever it is, there can�t be any harm in seeing . . .�

She slid sideways on to him, her hands going to the clasp on her bra. Bond noticed that she could not look him in the eyes. �I was born like this, James. I�m sorry. Some people � like Markus � find it revolting.�

Sliding her bra away she revealed the truth. The left side of her chest was smooth and flat as that of a young boy, perfectly formed but no female breast. On the right side, the firm, beautiful curve of one glorious breast � full and golden.

Yeah. I got nothing.

quote:

Strangely, perhaps because her one breast was so wonderful, an exact half-globe with a proportioned brown and pink nipple erect, the oddity appeared especially erotic to Bond.

quote:

He pulled her close, one hand cupping her. �Dear, lovely Nena. You are unique. You�re beautiful. There�s nothing revolting about you. Certainly you�re not half woman. Let me show you that.�

Slowly, punctuating his actions with kisses, Bond completed undressing her, and she wrapped herself around him, so that, for an hour or so, the evil which surrounded them in this strange, man-made desert island melted away � taking them into other worlds and to higher peaks, shrinking, eventually, to two human beings, turned by the magic of the love act into one.

Technically there's only one peak here.

:downsrim:

quote:

Nena left around four in the morning, with constant kisses and worried admonitions for Bond to be on his guard. �I shall see you again, James? Tell me I shall see you again.�

Bond kissed her hard on the mouth and told her they would certainly be together again.

�If,� she told him finally, as they got to her car, �if anything does go wrong, James, rely on me. If it happens here, I�ll do my best to help. I love . . .�

Bond stopped her with a last kiss. �It�s too easy to say.� He smiled in the darkness. �Just think of what we�ve had, and hope for more.�

With his pre-mission weirdo sex complete, Bond drives off and leaves the Saab hidden to go on foot to the conference center. He heads down the escape tunnel that Nena had showed him previously.

quote:

From the initial chamber, one could walk straight through the tunnel archway, and Bond had not gone far when he noticed the ground begin to slope downwards slightly. There was no sound, and no dank chill, as he had expected. The rope-soled shoes, which he had chosen to wear for comfort, made little noise; yet he still took the precaution of stopping, every minute or so, listening for any sounds coming either from ahead or behind. If the complex was already in use, there was always the possibility of Bismaquer�s people using this entrance to move freely between the ranch and the centre.

And you don't even have anywhere to hide! Great plan!

quote:

Bond encountered nobody in what he judged to be a mile-long walk. After sloping down and then seeming to flatten out for a few hundred yards, the ground rose again more steeply on the far side. After the speed march from the knoll, Bond could feel a dull ache in his thigh muscles.

He plodded on, as silently as before. Soon the path began to rise even more steeply and to turn in a gentle curve. Then, with hardly any warning, the whole tunnel widened and the end was in sight: another arched entrance to a chamber, this one larger than the entrance from the road.

Facing Bond was a smooth, tiled wall. He turned to examine the entire chamber, remembering Nena had told him there was a mechanism at this end too, which led to a janitor�s closet. She had given him no details, however, of the device. All Bond could see in the blue light were the smooth tiled walls. No boxes, metal covers or switches.

Logic told him that the wall facing him as he came into the chamber was the most likely exit point. Furthermore, if the door was at the rear of a closet, the handle would be situated in line with a man�s hand.

You're finally using logic?

quote:

Starting with the centre of the wall, Bond began to examine the individual tiles, one by one, working along the rows, methodically. He pushed and probed each tile in turn, until, after fifteen minutes or so, he found the right spot. The tile slid back on a small metal runner, operating like a model of a push-up garage door. Behind it was a perfectly normal door knob.

Gently, he tried the knob. Part of the tiling moved and, as Bond pulled back, a whole section was revealed as a hinged door. The door moved noiselessly, with great ease. On the far side was a plaster wall, complete with shelving angled to the left, so that the door could carry parts of the shelves back with it.

Bond stepped out, holding the door back until he had checked the handle on the other side which was hidden out of sight, directly under one of the shelves. Only then did he allow the door behind him to close.

The closet afforded little room � just enough for a man of reasonable build to hide behind its normal door, about a pace and a half from the rows of shelves.

As dawn breaks, Bond enters the conference center. He can already hear a loud conversation between a number of people around the corner.

quote:

From the window, Bond could see out across a wide lawn, in the centre of which a large H had been inlaid in white stone. In the far distance was a tall wire fence, then a wall above which the greenery of jungle showed clearly. He was looking out directly on to the helipad.

Turning back towards the closet, Bond spotted a pair of double doors, each with a panel of thick clear glass in the upper half. Neat gold script told him that the doors led to the Conference Hall. He crossed the passage to peer through the glass panel, immediately moving to one side, out of sight.

The quick look had revealed a plush hall, like a modern and most exclusive theatre. Row upon row of tip-back, well-padded chairs ran in a wide crescent, aisles cutting through them like a sunburst. At the front of the seats was a wide stage, already prepared with a long table, behind which stood a dozen chairs. In front of the table a microphone appeared to be guarding a large lectern, while behind, like a backdrop, hung a cinema screen.

In case the movie influence wasn't obvious enough. I guess a normal conference room wasn't enough for the new generation.

quote:

The conference hall was not empty. At least a dozen of Bismaquer�s security men were passing through it � a couple of them with dogs and some armed with explosives-detection devices and anti-bugging sniffers. They were obviously screening the hall before use. Before Walter Luxor�s paper to the automotive engineers? Bond wondered. Or was it really Markus Bismaquer who was going to address the meeting?

Alert now, Bond realised that some of the Bismaquer security people were quite near the conference hall doors. Silently, he moved back inside the janitor�s closet, the Heckler & Koch automatic steady in his hand with the safety catch off. The security men could well pass this way; on the other hand, other Bismaquer aides might even now be using the tunnel.

No sooner was he inside the closet, the door not quite closed, than there came the sound of the security men emerging into the passage. Voices were quite clear, only a few feet away.

�Okay?� a man said.

�They all say it�s clear, Mack,� came from a second voice.

Then a third: �You went right under that damned stage, didn�t you, Joe?�

�Right under, right through the access flap down there on the left. Took my flashlight too. It�s clean as a new bar of soap down there. �Cept for the dirt and spiders and all.�

There was a chorus of laughter, and Bond guessed the inspection was now finished.

�What time they coming over?� someone asked.

�The ladies and gentlemen have to be in their seats, ready and waiting, by eight forty-five. That�s the order. Eight forty-five sharp.�

�Well, we all got plenty of time then. Let�s get some chow ourselves.�

�Is Blofeld coming over?� It was the man called Joe who asked, and Bond felt the hair on his neck bristling with anticipation.

�Guess so. Won�t do the talking though. Never does.�

This is like a No One Lives Forever level.

quote:

�No. Too bad. Okay, fellas, let�s tell the folks where they�ve got to be, and when . . .�

The voices receded, the clarity blurring, then vanished altogether. Bond heard boots clicking down the passage. The cleaning squad had gone.

Bond did not have to think about his next move. He stepped from the closet, gun still in hand, glancing up and down the passage. It was clear. A few seconds later he was inside the conference hall and running down one of the aisles, making for what the man called Joe had described as �the access flap� on the left of the stage.

Within five seconds he had found it, an ordinary hinged flap with a recessed brass ring to lift it. Bond had the flap up, and had crawled under the stage, within sixty-five seconds of leaving the janitor�s closet.

All he had to do now was wait. At eight forty-five the delegates would start coming in. Then, soon after that, Blofeld would arrive. Not the Blofeld he had killed, but the new Blofeld. The name was in the open now, and soon, James Bond knew, he would be able to identify the man from his two suspects. Would it be Luxor or Bismaquer himself? He knew whom his money would ride on.

# ? Nov 29, 2020 09:16

Ripley: Jan 21, 2007

So it's really important that no harm comes to Bond, the man whose car Walt tried to blow up yesterday. Sure, checks out.

# ? Nov 29, 2020 13:04

Strategic Tea: Sep 1, 2012

quote:

This is like a No One Lives Forever level.

Or a Hitman level.

:mil101:

Didn't see anything but the spiders and those old propane tanks we left down there, near the door on the left side

:v:

Well I sure hope that never gets back to health and safety

# ? Nov 29, 2020 14:42

Runcible Cat: May 28, 2007; Ignoring this post

chitoryu12 posted:

I promise, you are never going to guess why she doesn't want lights.

You are 100% right there. WTF? Has Gardner never heard of plastic surgery?

# ? Nov 29, 2020 15:46

Trin Tragula: Apr 22, 2005

chitoryu12 posted:

The "briefcase full of money" trope has actually been tested! An average briefcase can hold about 24,000 bills, allowing it to easily hold $2.4 million if all in hundreds just like Bond is getting.

The problem? Weight. That amount of bills would weigh 53 pounds, plus the weight of the briefcase itself. Actors can easily haul money briefcases around on film because they're simply empty props.

A small thing I appreciate about Licence to Kill is how Killifer's $2 million bribe from Sanchez is in fact presented as being a big unwieldy weight to carry around.

# ? Nov 29, 2020 19:58

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 17: Heavenly Wolf

I don't remember that MGS character...

quote:

Lying, silent, in the dark under the conference hall stage, Bond pondered again the question of Bolfeld � the original man, the first leader of SPECTRE. Was his successor � the here-and-now leader � a relative? In organisations like this, a chain of command would not necessarily demand kinship. Yet, having known and fought Ernst Starvo Blofeld, Bond knew there had been a streak of dynastic ambition in him. The king is dead; long live the king.

When Blofeld had died at Bond�s hands, some provision must have been made for a future leader, even if that person did not immediately appear � and there had certainly been a lengthy period before SPECTRE rose again.

Bond considered the arrogance, cunning, and madness of the original Blofeld � the shadowy figure he had first glimpsed, through reports, who worked behind the cover of Fraternit� Internationale de la R�sistance Contre l�Oppression, in Paris, on the Boulevard Haussmann.

Gardner going "Yes, gentle readers, I did read the Fleming books before this!"

quote:

A man of many faces, yes. Disguise, with Blofeld, had been a way of life, and with those various faces came the same sense of purpose: complete ruthlessness and determination. Bond thought of the known lineage: half Polish, half Greek; born in Gdynia, and a wizard with money. If the new Blofeld was related, then Bond still had scores to settle. The death of his beloved wife, of but a few hours, was already avenged. Ernst Stavro Blofeld had paid the ultimate penalty for that. But now Bond again made a silent vow: anyone remotely connected with the original Blofeld would also pay. The light of his own happiness had been extinguished without compassion. Why, then, should he show compassion now?

He felt his own fatigue begin to swamp him and he thought of Nena. If anyone commanded compassion, it was this gorgeous lady � undeniably mistreated by her husband and put psychologically off-balance by a deformity which made her feel only part woman. This was nonsense of course, as Bond had proved to her. Poor wretched woman. When this was over, he thought, Nena would need some very special care. A picture of her, naked on his bed, came vividly into his mind, and it was with this image before him that Bond drifted into sleep.

Stop falling asleep during infiltration

quote:

He woke with a start. Noise around him � the babble of conversation. Shaking sleep from him like a dog, Bond stretched his limbs and settled down to listen. Out there a large audience � male and female � was already gathered. He looked at his Rolex, gleaming in the darkness. It was almost nine o�clock.

A minute or so later, the murmur of the audience subsided. Applause took its place, rising to a thunder as Bond heard feet, heavy, on the stage itself above him.

Slowly the applause diminished. There were some coughs, a clearing of throats, and then a voice � not Bismaquer�s as he had expected; but the thin reed of Walter Luxor. There was a difference, though. As Luxor spoke, so the odd high notes altered. The dreadfully disfigured man appeared to find a new confidence, testing his vocal cords until he caught the acoustics of the hall, at which the voice dropped down the scale.

�Ladies and gentlemen. Fellow members of the Executive Council of SPECTRE. World Section Heads of our organisation. Welcome.� Luxor paused. �As you see, our Leader � Blofeld � is among us, but has asked me to speak to you. It is I who have been at the centre of planning for the operation which, until now, we have spoken of simply as HOUND.

�Let us dispense with the preliminaries as quickly as possible. Time is short. We have known from the outset that, when the moment came, it would come quickly, leaving little time for manoeuvre. That moment is at hand.

�To set your minds at rest, you should first know two things. The very large sum of money earned from those daring, and, I must say, imaginative series of airplane operations, has proved to be ample for our purposes.

�Secondly, we have had a client for the major objective of our present operation for some time now. If all goes well, the profit from HOUND will not only fill SPECTRE�s coffers but give each and every member of our organisation a handsome return on investment.�

So that's a pretty solid indication that Luxor isn't Blofeld.

quote:

Bond heard an outbreak of applause, which died as quickly as it began. Then Luxor seemed to be shuffling and rearranging his papers. Bond heard him clear his throat and begin again.

�I do not wish to make this into a marathon briefing. However, there are certain strategic and tactical points which must first be made clear to each of you. This is necessary so that a full understanding of the military and political situations can be grasped.

�The world, as we all know, appears to be permanently on the brink of chaos. There are the usual wars, terrorism, skirmishes and rumours of war. People are afraid. It should be quite plain to us all that many of their fears are fomented, and manipulated, by the military men and politicians of the so-called super-powers.

�We see marches, demonstrations, and pressure groups building, particularly within the powerful Western countries. These action groups are motivated by fear: fear of a nuclear holocaust. So, as we hear and see, people take to the streets in an attempt to halt what they see as a nuclear arms race.

�We, of course � like the great military strategists � know that the whole of a conventional nuclear arms race is a piece of neat misdirection. Agitators, foolish and ill-informed people, see only a nuclear threat.� He gave a tiny, dismissive cackle of laughter. �What they do not see is that the bogeymen � the neutron bombs, Cruise missiles, intercontinental ballistic missiles � are merely makeshift weapons, temporary means of attack and defence. The same applies to the coast-to-coast tracking systems, and the idiocies that are proclaimed about the airborne early warning systems, such as the AWACS Sentry aircraft. All these things are like slingshots, to be used as stop-gaps until the real armament is unleashed.

�The problem is fear � fear that homes, countries, lives, are at stake. Those who take to the streets and demonstrate can think only in terms of war here, on this planet. They do not see that, in a matter of a very few years now, the I.C.B.M.s and the Cruise missiles will be negated, outdated, useless. The so-called arms race is purposely being allowed to dominate the public mind, while the superpowers pursue the real arms race: the race to provide the true weapons of attack and defence � most of which will not be used here on this planet, Earth, at all.�

AWACS stands for Airborne Warning and Control System, which is technically the name of a specific system but is also used as a generic term for the concept. Broadly, an AWACS aircraft uses powerful radar to detect aircraft and other vehicles at long range and assist in surveillance and directing the forces of battle. The specific aircraft named by Luxor is the Boeing E-3 Sentry, which entered operational use in 1977.

Despite Luxor's prediction of space-based weaponry being the wave of the future, it was not to be. The Outer Space Treaty of 1967 prohibits the placement of nuclear weapons in space, and no serious development is known to have been done on non-nuclear weapons of mass destruction such as kinetic energy "Rods From God." It turns out that ICBMs, cruise missiles, and other existing technology was far more cost-effective to continue using and developing than trying to launch orbital bombardment systems; the Soviets were already in the process of decommissioning their Fractional Orbital Bombardment System at the time of this book's release due to both developments that made surface-born weapons like submarines and ICBMs more effective and the fear that it would only accelerate the nuclear arms race.

quote:

There was a shuffling among the audience, before Luxor continued.

�What I am telling you is already common knowledge among the world�s leading scientists and military experts. The arms race is now not directed towards the stockpiling and tactical deployment of nuclear or neutron weapons, though that is exactly what both Soviet and American propaganda would like people to believe. �No.� Luxor thumped his lectern, sending vibrations through the joists and boards above Bond�s head.

�No. The arms race is really concerned with one thing � the perfection of an ultimate weapon which will render all existing nuclear weapons utterly impotent.� Luxor gave his reedy laugh again. �Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the mad scientist�s dream, the substance of science fiction for years past. But now the fiction has become fact.�

Bond held his breath, already knowing what was to come. Luxor would, he was certain, talk about the ultrasecret Particle Beam Weapon.

....the what?

quote:

�Until recently,� Luxor went on, �the Soviet Union was undoubtedly ahead in its programme for the development of what is known as a Particle Beam Weapon, a charged particle device, very similar to a laser, combined with microwave propagators. Development of such a weapon is indeed well on the way to finalisation, and this weapon can, and will, act as a shield � an invisible barrier � to ward off any possibility of nuclear attack.

�As I have said, the Particle Beam Weapon was thought to be more advanced in the Soviet Union than in the United States. We now know that both super-powers have reached roughly the same point in development. Within a few years � a very few years � the balance of power could swing dramatically in one direction; or become absolute on both sides. For the Particle Beam is designed to effectively neutralise any of the existing nuclear delivery systems.

�The super-powers can escalate millions of Cruise missiles, I.C.B.M.s, or rocket-delivered neutron bombs. Much good will it do them. Therefore they are not stockpiling these arms. The Particle Beam � once operational � will prevent any country from launching a conventional nuclear attack. Particle Beam means absolute neutralisation. Stalemate. Billions of dollars� worth of scrap metal, sitting in silos all over the globe. If one super-power wins the Particle Beam race, then that power holds the entire world in thrall.

�The arms race hinges on this super weapon of defence; time is at stake, and any nuclear action must be held off until the race is won. In turn, this means we must fully understand what nuclear action really means; and, to see this, we have to look, not at those dreaded missiles and bombs, but at the strategic devices which make their use possible.�

Bond shifted uneasily. He knew that all Luxor was saying made complete sense, even though, for a non-scientist, it did sound like highflown fiction. Bond had the advantage of having already been briefed, along with other Service officers. He had spent hours poring over pages of technical data, and reading long, if simplified, reports on the Particle Beam Weapon. As Luxor said, it was a fact, and both the United States and the Soviet Union were now neck and neck in this, the most important arms race in history.

You'd think Bond's position with the Double-O division eliminated would keep him from reading such classified material, but...

If you want a sci-fi blaster, the particle beam is the closest thing we've developed to it. A particle beam weapon is simply a beam of charged subatomic particles accelerated to near-light speed. Amazingly, we've already all had one of these in our house: the cathode ray tube (CRT) television! Of course, those electrons aren't exactly carrying enough energy to smash through your TV screen and blow your head off. A particle beam weapon fires those particles with enough kinetic energy to disrupt the target on a molecular or even atomic level.

There is real work on particle beam weaponry since the 1950s, and the Pentagon was working on them as recently as 2019 before shelving the concept (using neutral charge particles to fry missile electronics) to focus on improving laser weaponry. While prototypes have been made, there's been no success with shrinking the massive particle accelerators (as typified by the Large Hadron Collider) to the size necessary for a weapon.

quote:

Luxor now started to talk about the current, highly-advanced satellites actually in space, orbiting, or stationary, operational and fully active: that whole series of hardware which made an immediate nuclear confrontation and conflagration possible.

�It is really a question of old military strategy,� he continued. �History can always teach mankind. The problem is that to learn from history � particularly in military matters � man must adapt. For instance, World War Two began as a failure for the greater part of Europe because the military thinking of the so-called Allies, was based on the strategy of former wars. But the world had changed, and with those changes a new strategy became necessary.

�Now, at this crucial point in history, we have to think, strategically, in a very different environment. An American Senator once said, �He who controls space, controls the world.� There is also an old military maxim which says you must always control the high ground. Both these statements are true. Now, the high ground is space; and space controls the nuclear potential of nations until the Particle Beam race is won or lost.

�So, members of SPECTRE, it is our task to provide our present clients with the means to control space until that race is won.�

Luxor continued, giving a great deal of information about the present satellites in use � the reconnaissance satellites: Reconsats and electronic ferrets; Big Bird and Key Hole II; the radar satellites, such as the White Cloud system; the Block 5D-2 military weather satellites which carry banks of solar cells, giving each satellite a greater longevity, plus a broad, and very accurate, coverage of world weather conditions.

Bond�s anxiety increased. The facts � simple and incomplete � concerning these satellites, were easily obtainable, but Walter Luxor showed a knowledge far and above any published data. The information he now passed on to the SPECTRE audience was of the most highly classified variety.

After 90 minutes of talking about military satellites, they take a lunch break to let Bond continue to ponder the implications in his spidery bed.

quote:

But where would SPECTRE wish to strike? How, and what, would be their target? Slowly, James Bond realised the full implications of HOUND. Of course, HOUND. Why had he not thought of it before? Hound? Wolf? The Space Wolves, as they were called. The United States was well ahead there. SPECTRE�s target was the Space Wolves; but, before Bond could follow through this line of thought, there were sounds from the auditorium as people filed back. Then, within minutes, the complete target and plan of action were revealed.

No, the book has not yet explained what the Space Wolves are. You didn't miss anything.

quote:

Luxor quickly called the audience to order, and launched into the second part of his briefing in a brisk, concise manner.

�The long preamble during our first session,� he began, �was necessary for us to come to the heart of our project. The control of space, ladies and gentlemen, means the ability to neutralise the enemy�s eyes and ears in space. It has been thought, for a long time now, that the Soviets had a fair, if limited, capability for space control. They were able, in theory, to neutralise United States� satellites within a twenty-four hour time-scale. It was also thought that the United States had no such capability. In the past eighteen months, however, this has proved to be incorrect. The killersats, as they have been called, have now emerged as the current essential weapons. Powerful weapons. That power, my good colleagues, lies totally with the United States.

�It has, of course, been denied that any such satellites are in orbit. But there is no doubt that the United States has at least twenty laser-equipped killersats already in space, disguised as weather satellites. They also have the capability of launching over two hundred of these weapons in a matter of minutes.�

Luxor again paused. Bond felt the anxiety in his throat, and twanging, like a plectrum, at his nerve ends. Once more, he had seen the documentation and knew the truth.

Documentation that only he knew that none of us ever got foreshadowed!

quote:

�Our problem,� Luxor continued, �or, I should say, our client�s problem, is that these satellite craft are hidden under one of the most successful security schemes ever mounted by the United States. We know the satellites are laser-armed; that they have a superlative chase capability; and that these facts are held on computer tapes and microfilm � their numbers, place, present orbital patterns, position of silos, order of battle. All this information exists, and is, naturally, required by our clients.

�The full intelligence concerning these killersats is held in the Pentagon. But the Americans have been so careful to isolate each section of information that our two sources inside the Pentagon reported, some months ago, that theft was virtually impossible. In fact we have lost a great deal of time attempting to procure microfilm and other documentation in this manner. Each attempt has led to failure.

�However, there is another way. By the year 1985, these weapons � known, in military jargon, as Space Wolves � will be controlled and operated through See-Sok, an abbreviation of the lengthy title North American Air Defence Command�s Consolidation Space Operations Centre.�

There was polite laughter, which seemed to ease the tension in the hall. Luxor went on to say that See-Sok was already under construction. Vast modifications were being carried out at Peterson Air Force Base, not far from the existing NORAD � North American Defence Command � Headquarters, deep within the Cheyenne Mountains of Colorado.

�And, until See-Sok becomes operational,� Luxor�s voice rose to its high pitch again, �until Peterson Field is converted, the Space Wolves are controlled from NORAD Headquarters, in Cheyenne Mountain. That, fellow members of SPECTRE, is the weak link.

�Because NORAD H.Q. controls the Space Wolves, all information must be available to the Headquarters. And so it is. Where it has been hidden away, in segments, at the Pentagon, it lies open and collated, on the computer tapes in Cheyenne Mountain.�

The Cheyenne Mountain Complex is one of the most secure military installations in the world. Nestled inside a mountain near Colorado Springs, this virtually nuke-proof bunker is the home to NORAD. The blast doors can withstand a close nuclear strike and the facility is completely self-sufficient if sealed, with massive reservoirs of water and fuel and its own power plant. Films and TV such as WarGames, Terminator 3, and Stargate SG-1 have all given fame to the distinctive tunnel entrance.

quote:

It was all true enough, Bond could vouch for that. But the really big question still had to be answered. How did you walk into the well-screened NORAD H.Q. and lift computer tapes giving every detail of the Space Wolves? Bond had a feeling that, under Blofeld�s instructions, Luxor was about to answer the question. At least, Bond thought, he now knew that Blofeld equalled Bismaquer. Luxor was the specialist in many fields, but the final planning would go to SPECTRE�s leader: Markus Bismaquer, ice cream maker and squire of Rancho Bismaquer.

�Operation Heavenly Wolf,� Luxor intoned. �That is the name for project HOUND. Object: to penetrate NORAD Headquarters, and bring out all the computer tapes carrying information on the U.S. Space Wolves.

�Method? We have considered two possibilities, and rejected one, the obvious one: an assault using all SPECTRE�s forces. That would be doomed from the start. However, our Leader, Blofeld, has come up with something positively brilliant.�

As Luxor began to explain Operation Heavenly Wolf, many of the dark pieces of the jig-saw fell into place.

�Simplicity,� Luxor maintained, �is often the answer to all things. Here, at this very ranch, we have been doing two things which have now provided the key to Cheyenne Mountain. First, as you know, we have an ice cream manufacturing plant on the premises. We have also made many contacts, including distributors of foodstuffs to military bases. One such is the sole distributor to NORAD Headquarters.�

Luxor paused. Bond could almost see him smiling that ghastly gaping grin.

Ice cream was evil all along.

quote:

�Ladies and gentlemen, we have just sent that distributor four days� supply of ice cream. Apparently they consume a great deal of ice cream at NORAD � it must be the atmosphere within the mountain, and those long hours spent underground. We are told that over 90 per cent of the staff and technicians eat ice cream regularly.

�The very large consignment which we have just conveyed is not, however, a normal brand. We have also developed the ultimate in happiness � a mild narcotic, harmless and with no side effects. It produces a state of euphoria and well-being, an ability to operate normally but with a suspended moral sense of right or wrong. Anyone taking even a minimum dosage will obey, without question, the orders of a superior. He, or she, would even kill his best friend, or most loved wife or husband.�

Bond nodded to himself, thinking of the two men he had seen in the padded cell off the laboratory.

�What is more,� Luxor sounded highly pleased with himself, �our most recent tests have proved that the effects of our happy cream last up to twelve hours. Tomorrow, at around noon, the shipment will go into Cheyenne Mountain. We are reliably informed that distribution will start tomorrow night. This means that Operation Heavenly Wolf begins after lunch on the day after tomorrow. We simply go in, ask for the Space Wolves computer tapes, and they will give them to us. They will also smile happily while they commit this gross act of treason.�

So there's one obvious question: what about the people who don't eat the ice cream?

quote:

�Not quite.� Luxor�s voice generated confidence. �Naturally, there will be some officers, technicians, and enlisted men, who will spurn our dessert. Ten per cent, according to our latest information. We may well, therefore, encounter some slight unpleasantness. Also, you must remember, the drug works only if commands are given by somebody with authority and seniority. Therefore, we plan to give NORAD H.Q. a surprise inspection by a four-star general. In fact it will be the new Inspector-General of Air/Space Defence. I�ve arranged for the officer commanding NORAD H.Q. to be warned of his arrival roughly an hour before he makes an entrance � together with, say, twenty or thirty aides and military personnel. All will be armed, of course, and ready to handle the unlucky few who reject our ice cream. A sad prospect, I admit, to die for not liking such a delicious dessert.�

There were chuckles around the room, and one voice asked who was to wear the lucky four stars?

There followed a terrible silence. It was as though the questioner suddenly realised he had, in his jesting way, put his foot in it � making a most ghastly error by even asking.

Bismaquer, Bond thought � Blofeld himself � would be the four-star general. Nobody else would do. Then came Luxor�s voice, chilling, like ice in the gullet.

�We have someone very special in mind for that job,� he rasped. �Someone very special indeed. Poor fellow. I�m afraid he will not survive the ordeal. Now, we must decide on schedules, times, weapons and escape routes. Can I have the map, please?�

Some of you may put this together now.

quote:

It was almost noon. In twelve hours, Bond thought, Cedar would be at the roadside tunnel entrance with the Saab. If her luck held. Meanwhile, Bond had twelve hours to remain hidden, listening under the stage, sorting the facts in his mind. Then, once the hall emptied, he must find somewhere to wait until he could safely negotiate the trek back down the tunnel. After that, assuming Cedar was on time, they would either have to fight their way out or find some way for Bond to draw the fire, priming Cedar with the bare information so that she could get help.

In any case, one of them had to make it. Until the real arms race for the Particle Beam Weapon was won or lost, the United States � possibly all the Western powers � needed the Space Wolf satellites, for they gave the real edge over any aggressor.

In the middle of the tension induced by these thoughts, 007 recognised a chilling prospect: the one person in all the West who might yet be able to avert disaster was James Bond.

# ? Dec 1, 2020 01:49

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Currently having issues getting highlights working on Kindle. Hold tight.

# ? Dec 5, 2020 03:45

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 18: Shock Tactics

quote:

Bond had looked forward to emerging from the tunnel into a deep velvet blue night, with stars like diamonds. In fact, he came out through the roadside opening into a steambath of hot air, with the sky at war. Far away, great sheets of lightning sizzled and cracked, while distant thunder rolled � as though heaven had taken a pre-emptive strike into its own hands.

He drew a deep breath, hoping for fresh air and inhaled only the cloying damp scents of the jungle area. Muttering belligerently, Bond operated the lever, restoring the slab of stone to its proper place.

Hidden for so long under the conference hall stage, Bond had been forced to remain still and silent, breathing stale air, for the better part of nine hours. Now, he felt in need of a shower and, not least, a change of clothes.

The day�s work had finally came to an end late in the afternoon, and, when the coast appeared to be clear, Bond had crept out � his head now crammed with details of Operation Heavenly Wolf: locations, method of transport, weapons, RV points, contingency plans. Now he had everything there was to know about the great, and dangerous, confidence trick to be played out at NORAD HQ in Cheyenne Mountain � everything except the vital role: who was to play the four-star general, the Inspector-General of US Air/Space Defence.

The hall was empty, and the urgency of Bond�s mission preyed on his mind. The Space Wolves were, certainly, the most important link in the current Western defence system. Alone, they could hold off the threat of any nuclear conflagration. Any crucial emergency would bring the Space Wolves into play, as they roamed high above the world � a cover for all continents. Every NATO power was secretly alert to the situation, as well as to the capability of other Space Wolves, ready to be hurled into orbit, with their chase tracks controlled and monitored from the operations rooms deep within Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado.

Bond gets to his hiding spot and has to wait until it's nearly midnight for Cedar to drive up. Bismaquer has guards roaming everywhere looking for them and has blocked off the gates and monorail station, leaving no apparent way out except shooting.

quote:

She kept to side roads, sometimes slewing off tracks and roads, punishing the Saab on grass and rutted ground. Soon they were in sight of Tara. Great banks of floodlights were turned on all around the area, while the distant flashes of sheet lightning seemed to be slowly coming nearer. Even in the car they could hear the heavy, approaching thunder of the storm.

It was, in the end, the storm which helped them. Like most desert weather, the change was both extreme and spectacular. As they kept close to the boundary walls with their screens of trees, the thunder and lightning swept in on a raging wind � a massive thunderhead, like an anvil, hanging directly over Rancho Bismaquer. In its wake came torrential rain.

They could hardly see through the windscreen, even with the wipers going full speed; but the storm appeared to have driven the watchful guards to cover. Sitting it out, about half a mile from the mono-rail depot, Bond waited for the first break as rain lashed against them, buffeting the car like rifle fire on the armour plating.

Cedar said that, as far as she knew, the mono-rail was in place. �They had some plan to take cars out early in the morning,� she told him, explaining that her own escape had been made more difficult by the advent of more men, and guards, at the house.

�In the end I screwed up my courage and went for a walk. Markus saw me and asked what I was doing. I just told him I needed some air. I took off like a jack rabbit after that. Haven�t run so fast since I was a sophomore in college and the captain of the football team dated me.�

�Did he catch you?� Bond asked.

�Of course, James. I slowed down after a while. Why not? He was cute.'

I have some concerns about Cedar's romantic life.

quote:

At this point in the conversation, the rain appeared to ease slightly.

�This is it.� Bond spoke quickly, giving her instructions. �Drive like the devil. Don�t worry about any shooting; we can�t be hurt in here. As long as you can see through the rain, go straight for the mono-rail ramp and drive right in.�

�Do you know how to run a mono-rail?� Cedar shouted, as they took off.

Bond said there was always a first time for everything.

Oh dear.

quote:

They got within a couple of hundred yards of the rail depot without being spotted. Then, some security guard must have glimpsed them through the rain.

Bond saw the car pull out behind them, then lost it again as a squall drove a great wet shower between the two cars. Then another appeared, from the right, just as they were racing alongside the depot, Cedar�s head pushed forward, almost on the windscreen, as she searched for the ramp.

The two sets of headlights � behind, and to the right � appeared and disappeared through the rain. Then the Saab rocked as a bullet struck the armour on Bond�s side. Another two squashed into the thick, impenetrable, toughened glass of the driver�s window.

But the weather saved them. The rain, which had eased for a moment, suddenly turned on a last downpour, as though giant buckets were being emptied from the skies.

Bond roars the Saab up the ramp into the car transporter on the monorail. Fortunately, the door to the driver's cabin is unlocked.

quote:

The rain still lashed down, driving against the big windows of the cabin. A small fixed seat perched in front of a flat bank of levers and instruments. To Bond�s relief, they all appeared to be marked. A red button, with two switches below it, was designated as Turbine: On/Off. He tripped the switches and pressed the button as he scanned the other controls. The throttle was a metal arm which swept in a half-circle across spaced terminals. The braking mechanism was near his feet, with a secondary device to the right of the throttle. He found the speed indicator, the windscreen wipers, the lights, and a series of buttons marked Doors: Automatic. Close/Open.

Pressing the red button brought a comforting throbbing whine as the turbine turned over. Bond slammed down all the automatic door buttons on the Close circuit, switched on the wipers and lights, released the brakes, and tentatively moved the throttle arm.

He did not expect such a sudden reaction. The train jerked, took the strain, then moved with oiled smoothness from the depot. Cedar was at his elbow now, peering out of the big forward windows, trying to see the track through the rain as the big headlight cut into the downpour.

Bond brings the monorail up to a ridiculous 80 MPH, out of the storm and miles away to the road. Cedar brings up the obvious point that they'll have the station covered with guns when they arrive and he needs to stay at the controls to bring the train to a halt instead of just smashing into the bumpers at the end. So Bond gets the guns and night vision goggles from the Saab...and turns off the train's lights.

quote:

The driver�s cabin had its own sliding door which would, presumably, unlock when the other doors were set to Automatic/Open. There should also be rungs from the cab that would take him down for part of the way at least. After that, it would be a long drop.

With his usual economy, Bond told Cedar exactly what he proposed. �I have night eyes with these things,� touching the Nitefinders: �After I�ve unlocked the doors, the turbine has to be switched off, and you�ll be left alone here while I go quietly up the track.�

�James, be careful of those protective fences.� Cedar�s voice betrayed her state of mind.

�Don�t worry about that. Nothing�ll concentrate my mind so well as that damned fence.�

In the darkness, Bond watched through the glasses for any movement in front of the train.

�If they�re waiting � and I�ve no doubt they will be � I should imagine the Brothers Grimm will be intrigued by the fact that we�ve stopped short, and with no lights. If I�m lucky, at least one of them�ll come looking, which is what I need. Once I�ve dealt with them, switched off the current and opened the gates, I�ll be back fast. Your job is to stay here and kill � I mean kill � anyone who attempts to board. I�m the only one that you let back into this contraption. Okay?�

She agreed, with a very firm �Yes�.

The drop from the bottom rung of the ladder is only about 12 feet, which Bond is able to roll out of. Ten minutes later, with the aid of the Nitefinders, he's within sight of the depot.

quote:

They had turned the lights off, to make the train�s approach difficult, and there was definitely movement ahead of him now. One tall figure slowly walked towards him, staying close to the pillars. The man carried a shotgun, not under his arm but at the ready, held professionally away from the body, the butt a few inches from the shoulder and the barrel pointing downwards.

Bond sidestepped, flattening behind a pillar. Soon the approaching man was clearly audible � an expert, Bond judged, for the sound came only from the man�s low, controlled breathing.

The hunter must have instinctively sensed danger. About a foot from Bond�s pillar, he stopped, listening and turning. Then Bond saw the barrel of the shotgun come into view.

He waited until the man cleared the pillar before making a move � quick as a cobra, and just as deadly. Bond�s heavy automatic was balanced firmly in the right hand. His arm came back, then shot forward with all the force that 007 could muster. As the punch came out of the darkness, the hunter sensed activity. Not soon enough, Bond�s wrist turned so that the full force of the punch lay behind the barrel of the VP70 � the arm fully extended at the point of impact, which landed on target, just below the man�s right ear.

There was a sudden hiss as the victim expelled air from his lungs, then a ghost of a groan before he fell backwards. Bond grabbed out at the unconscious man, but it was too late. The tightly-meshed protective fence danced with a flash of blue fire which, in turn, played around the man�s body as he fell against the heavy wires, jerking and kicking as the massive voltage poured through him.

The smell of burning and singed flesh floated into Bond�s nostrils, almost making him retch. But in a moment, it was over and the depot guard lay still, thrown away from the fencing, his gun � a Winchester pump � almost between Bond�s feet on the earth.

Horrifying, but free upgrade!

quote:

Even through the Nitefinder glasses, the flash from the electrified fence left traces of light floating in Bond�s vision. All thought of surprise had gone. Blinking to clear his eyes, Bond dropped to one knee, picked up the Winchester and replaced his automatic in its holster.

The pump-action Winchester was loaded and ready. As his hands touched the weapon, Bond heard a cry less than fifty yards up the track.

�Brother? You okay, brother? You git him?�

The other guard, twin giant to the dead man, was thumping along the little path between pillars and fence, flushed out by the flash and noise. Bond lifted the Winchester, holding the oncoming figure in the centre of the barrel, and called out, �Stay where you are. Drop the gun. Your brother�s had it. Stop now.�

The man did stop, but only to aim his own Winchester in the general direction of Bond�s voice. Before the first shots came, Bond ducked behind the pillar, coming out at the other side and lining up the shotgun again.

The man charged on, firing at random, hoping, in rage, for a lucky shot. Bond fired once, low and accurate. The target�s legs seemed to be pulled back from under him, the force of the shot dragging the whole body face down. There was a long shriek of pain, followed by a whimper; then silence.

Conveniently, the second guard is only unconscious from the shock and Bond is pretty sure he won't bleed to death from the buckshot peppering his legs. Neither of them have any keys, so he pushes on to the blockhouse.

quote:

He took his time approaching the end of the line, repumping the Winchester, crabbing sideways on, towards the low buildings.

Silence. Not a movement, as Bond reached the platforms, where the big motor ramp extended, ready to meet the mono-rail.

He stayed close to the buildings, well in the darkness, watching.

Nothing.

At last, Bond broke cover, walking quickly to the blockhouse, where lights still burned. It was deserted. There seemed to be no sign of life anywhere inside the fence or out on the desert track.

The keys lay on a table near the big fuse boxes and main switches that controlled the fences. In less than a minute, Bond had thrown the master switch, picked up the keys and � after hurling the Winchester at the fence to make certain it was no longer live with electricity � unlocked the main gates, pulling them back fully so that they could drive the Saab straight off the train and through.

If luck held, they would be in Amarillo and telephoning the people who mattered within an hour.

Unfortunately for Bond, there are still about 40 pages left in this book.

quote:

He ran, fast, all the way back. The injured guard was still not conscious but had begun to groan. His brother lay silent, reeking of burned clothing and flesh. At last, Bond saw the train, ahead and above him. Its great curved sides hung over the edge of the platform, supported by the pillars. Without pausing, Bond swarmed up the nearest metal rungs. There was a space on the platform, about three or four feet of stressed steel with concrete overlay between the edge of the pillar and the big rail.

Standing upright, Bond crabbed his way along this catwalk until the front of the train towered over him. With just room to kneel, he could see around the long drooping side of the mono-rail. The cab door was still open, its rungs leading down to the point below him where he had swung and dropped before.

Now, the cab�s rungs were just out of reach. Straightening up, Bond shuffled back a couple of steps, then leaned forward with his hands close together, as far to the left of the train�s metal front as he could get without slipping.

The angle of his body was obviously too steep, so he gently edged his feet forward, flexing the knees, his eyes not leaving the line of rings � elongated D shapes � coming down from the cabin. If he let his hands slide now, Bond would simply fall headlong from the platform holding rail and train.

He needed a little more agility this time. Once his hands released their grip on the smooth metal, he would have to spring, trying to leap towards the cabin rungs, grabbing as he went in the hope of maintaining a firm hold.

A deep breath, flexed knees again, then a hard push away from the platform, using all his skill to place the weight of his body forward, near to the train�s side. One hand touched a rung, one palm � but not quite firmly enough. He was falling, arms flailing and hands snatching at the rungs as they streaked by him. It only took a second, but the fall gave the impression of suspended time. Then his whole body jarred � an arm almost wrenched from its socket � as his left hand closed around the penultimate rung.

Bond remained swinging by one arm for a second or two, until at last he had a firm grip with both hands. He waited another second to catch his breath, and then began a steady ascent.

Well, that settles it! Now to just take off!

quote:

As his face came level with the cab door, Bond called out: �It�s okay, Cedar, I�m back. We�re on our way.� He hoisted himself into the cab, a trifle breathless.

Cedar was not in the cabin. Nor did she answer when he called to her again.

Bond leaped towards the control panel, to activate the light switches. The whole train lit up, and as it did so, the cabin door slammed closed inexplicably. He reached across, hauling on the manual handle, but without result.

Turning, Bond once more called for Cedar. He had the pistol out again as he made his way back into the vehicle compartment. The Saab stood as they had left it. But still no trace of Cedar. Then, as he stood there, the door to the cabin � and the one at the far end � slammed shut.

�Cedar?� Bond yelled. �Where are you? Have those bastards got you?�

A disembodied voice answered, making his flesh crawl. �Oh yes, Mr Bond. Mrs Penbrunner will not get away any more than you. Why not relax, Mr Bond? Relax and have a rest.�

It was the voice of Walter Luxor, thin and strangled, from a loudspeaker system. It took Bond a few seconds to recognise the other phenomenon � an odour in the air, oddly pleasant but stinging to the nostrils. Then he saw the faint cloud, like thin smoke, rising from tiny grilles in the floor: gas; some form of gas; and he understood.

So...was Luxor just hiding in the monorail all night?

quote:

In an almost detached way, Bond became aware that he was functioning more slowly. His brain took longer to make decisions. Oxygen. Yes, that was it. He had oxygen. In the car: the oxygen kit which slid out from under the passenger seat.

Now he was moving in slow motion, his brain repeating �Oxygen . . . Oxygen . . .� over and over again.

Bond�s hand reached out for the Saab�s door, wrenching it open, his body swerving, turning towards the interior. Then he felt himself sliding, going down a long gentle slope, a chute, which descended into greyness, growing darker and darker, until he seemed to hurtle into space and the world turned black, while all knowledge was blotted out.

# ? Dec 6, 2020 00:40

Runcible Cat: May 28, 2007; Ignoring this post

chitoryu12 posted:

So...was Luxor just hiding in the monorail all night?

Maybe he sleeps there? Maybe it's got a remote override for the controls?

Maybe I should stop trying to make sense of this incredibly idiotic plot?

# ? Dec 6, 2020 21:32

Cassius Belli: May 22, 2010; horny is prohibited

Just for everyone's entertainment (and retrospectives), YouTube has made most of the pre-Craig Bond films available for free viewing.

# ? Dec 7, 2020 08:48

Ripley: Jan 21, 2007

All the best novels pause 75% of the way through for a lecture on a new topic with no foreshadowing.

Gats Akimbo posted:

Maybe he sleeps there? Maybe it's got a remote override for the controls?

Maybe I should stop trying to make sense of this incredibly idiotic plot?

I like the idea that Team Ice-cream were monitoring the train and in control from the moment James and Cedar got on board, but couldn't be arsed to step in and gas them until after Bond had the chance to murder some more of their loyal employees.

Never mind that if the guards managed to shoot Bond, they wouldn't be able to use him as their fake general...

# ? Dec 7, 2020 15:39

Proteus Jones: Feb 28, 2013

Yond Cassius posted:

Just for everyone's entertainment (and retrospectives), YouTube has made most of the pre-Craig Bond films available for free viewing.

Pluto has an On Demand Bond channel with the same movies as well.

# ? Dec 7, 2020 22:10

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 19: Four-Star General

quote:

There was one tiny moment, on regaining consciousness, when James Bond knew who he was: James Bond, a field agent for the SIS, holding the special double-O prefix. Number 007.

The knowledge lasted for a second or two and was accompanied by the sensation of floating in warm, pleasant water, as though suspended. He also heard a voice saying something about Haloperidol. He recognised the name � a drug, a tranquilliser, hypnotic in action. Then came the tiny prick, as a needle slid home. James Bond ceased to exist.

Okay, that's the end of the series! Bye folks!

quote:

Lord, what time was it? He had been dreaming. Vivid dreams, nightmares almost, about his time at the academy. There were voices in the dream. Mum and Dad, God rest their souls. Friends, training, then his first appointment after he was commissioned.

General James A. Banker fumbled on the night table for his digital watch. Three in the morning. Shouldn�t have had that last whiskey. Must give it up. Since the new promotion there had been too many nights like this.

He flopped back on to the pillows, sweating, and immediately fell asleep again.

Watching, through the infra-red glass, Walter Luxor turned to Blofeld. �Going well,� he squeaked. �There�s plenty of time. I�ll give him some war experience now.� He pulled the microphone towards him, and began to speak, quietly, soothingly.

Below them was a bedroom, very military in d�cor: an on-base senior officer�s room, functional, with only a few personal photographs and mementos to break its austerity.

In the deep hypnotic sleep, General James A. Banker was not really aware of the whispering voice coming close to his ears, from the pillow.

Yep. They did that.

quote:

�Now, General,� the voice said, �you know exactly who you are. You know, and remember, things about your childhood, your training, and your rise through the service. I shall tell you more about that rise now. More about your active service; and a lot more about your present job.� The voice launched into a long, vivid description of the General�s work up to the time of Vietnam, then of his special duties during that war. There were acts of bravery; fear; desperate times and the deaths of friends. Some of the incidents were almost entirely relived, complete with sound effects: the sound of weapons and other people speaking.

General James A. Banker muttered in his sleep, turned, then woke again. Lord, he felt terrible; and he had a job to do in the morning. Pretty important. He�d had more dreams. He could recall them as clearly as he knew his wife Adelle. Nam: he�d been dreaming about all the guts and blood and hell in Nam.

He desperately wanted to call Adelle, but she was off into dreamland as soon as her head touched the pillow. Adelle got kind of huffy with him if he called in the middle of the night.

The General wondered how long it would be before he found the right house for her. Was it this weekend she was coming down to have another look? He hoped he felt better than this by morning, otherwise he�d walk through that inspection like a zombie. Sleep. Must get more sleep. Another look at his watch. It was only four o�clock. Too early to get up. He�d try and grab a little more shut-eye.

Gently, the General slid back into his jumbled dreams, and just as gently Walter Luxor, in the window overlooking the bedroom, started to talk again.

He had only done this once before, and then he had more time. Putting a hand over the microphone he said to Bismaquer, �Not bad, you know. He really believes, deep down inside, that he is a four-star general. Very good for twenty-four hours� work. I�ll reinforce it now.� As Luxor spoke, the door to the bedroom below opened, and the large figure of Mike Mazzard appeared. Looking up at the unseen hiding place, and making a twirling motion, Mazzard tiptoed towards the bed, picked up the clock and altered it, as he had been instructed.

Amazingly, this passage has yet another hint about the twist.

quote:

Luxor began to talk again. He too felt tired. Usually, he knew, the technique took a lot longer than twenty-four hours, but as the subject only had to alter personality for a relatively short time, he was convinced it could be done with complete success.

They had started almost as soon as Bond had been brought back to the ranch. Injections of Haloperidol and other hypnotics; followed by short in-and-out sessions of audio-hypnotic implant, first to give the subject complete disorientation, then to put him back together � with new memories and a new identity.

The technique entailed small, frequent doses � implanting ideas and memories which would, they knew, be rejected within a day after the subject was brought around. But a day was long enough.

Bond had been a thorn from the start. Someone who had to be isolated and destroyed as quickly � and, if possible, naturally � as convenient. So Blofeld had first instructed. But Blofeld�s mind could change, and with that flexibility, that mercurial brilliance, came great ideas.

Originally they had planned for another candidate to play the general. Indeed, Luxor had practised this very technique on the man in question, right to the breaking point. The FBI man had died as a result.

Then Blofeld had picked on Bond, having lured SPECTRE�S old enemy to Texas and put him off balance, watching his every move. Now, with the minutes ticking away and a very definite need for the new general to have at least three hours� peaceful sleep, Luxor realised the wonderful irony of the whole scheme. Bond, as the general, would perish in Cheyenne Mountain, and many people would be highly embarrassed.

And extremely confused!

quote:

Luxor talked on for another fifteen minutes, then switched off the microphones. �That�s as far as I dare go. He�ll be a little disoriented, but that�ll be put down to a hard night�s drinking. I�ve implanted that most firmly. At least you�ve got your four-star general. I would suggest, Blofeld, that you brief Mazzard personally. That man down there must die in the mountain, preferably while he still believes he is General James A. Banker.�

Blofeld smiled. �The irony is complete. I�ll see to it. Close down now, and let him sleep.�

Well, I'm sure we can have nothing weird here now.

quote:

General Banker at last got some rest. The dreams had gone, and he slept the sleep of the just. It was only as he became fully awake that he had another kind of dream, oddly erotic, about a woman with only one breast. He even thought she was leaning over him. At some point there was a voice too, though he could not make out if it was male or female. �James,� the voice said, �my dear James. Take these pills. Here . . .� A hand cradled his head, lifting, and he felt something in his mouth, then a glass to his lips. He was very thirsty and drank what was offered, without resistance. �They�ll take a few hours to work,� the voice said, �but when they do, you�ll be your proper self again. God help you; and God help me for doing this.�

One boob. I don't even know why that's a thing in this book.

quote:

When he was dragged fully out of sleep, by a sergeant serving his usual steaming black, sweet coffee, it was the only dream the General could remember. He was conscious that he had not slept well, but that was the wretched party last night.

His mouth felt terrible, his stomach queasy; but at least he was well enough to do his job.

The General shaved, showered, and began to dress. Sometimes, James, he thought. I don�t recognise you in this outfit. It was always amazing, for the General, to think he had come so far in the Service. But here he was, a four-star general, with plenty of combat experience, a beautiful wife, and an exacting job. To be Inspector-General, US Air/Space Defence, was quite something.

The tap at his door heralded the usual appearance of his adjutant, Major Mike Mazzard, who entered quietly to the General�s call, saluting as he always did.

�Good morning, General. How�re things today?�

�Terrible, Mike. I feel like I�ve been dragged through several swamps, infected with swine fever, and swallowed something out of the latrine.�

No no, that was 2009. We're on a coronavirus now.

quote:

Mazzard laughed. �With respect, General, you�ve only yourself to blame. That party was really too much.�

The General nodded. �I know, I know. Don�t tell me � and for heaven�s sake don�t tell my wife. I�m going to have to cut down, Mike.�

�You want breakfast, sir? We can . . .�

�Perish the thought, Mike. Perish the thought. Another good slug of coffee would help . . .�

�I�ll fix it, sir. In here?�

�Why not? Then we can go through today�s arrangements without interruption. I�m afraid you�re going to have to carry me through most of it.�

�Tut-tut, General. A good Bostonian like you.� Mazzard paused by the door. �You know something funny, sir?�

�You think I should hear it?�

�Well, it�s the Boston thing again. I heard one of the other officers talking. He said you were true blue Boston, and anyone could tell that by the way you spoke . . .�

�Yes?�

�The funny thing, sir, was that he said, �Put General Banker in one of those bowler hats and a pinstripe, then give him an umbrella, and you�d think he�d walked straight out of a British bank.� �

You didn't even hypnotize a new accent?

quote:

The General nodded. �I get it all the time, Mike. Had a British journalist in Nam take me for one of their own. I�m not ashamed of it, though.� He put on a sly smirk. �You want I should take lessons? Learn to say boid, and absoid, like in Brooklyn?�

Mazzard grinned back and went out for more coffee.

Outside the room, Luxor waited. �Well?�

�Amazing.� Mazzard shook his head. �I wouldn�t have believed it. Will it last?�

�Long enough, Major Mazzard. Long enough. You have your orders from Blofeld?�

�I�ll do it personally, and with pleasure. Don�t worry. Now, what about the General�s coffee?�

Pop quiz for those who don't remember Bond's coffee order!

quote:

About two hours earlier, a young Captain who worked in the Pentagon�s Space Intelligence Department had come on duty early. The skeleton night staff were still around but nobody took much notice of the Captain. He was known as an eager beaver.

At this time in the morning, however, the main communications teletype machine � personal to his superior officer, the General in charge of Air and Space Defence Administration � was not in use. The young Captain held a set of keys, not only to his General�s office but also to the teletype machine. The little suite of offices was empty when the Captain let himself in, quietly locking the door behind him. He then unlocked the teletype and began to transmit.

The first message was to the Officer Commanding Movements, US Air Force Base, Peterson Field, Colorado. The text read:

BE PREPARED ONE SMALL ARMED CONTINGENT CONSISTING APPROX TWO OFFICERS FOUR SERGEANTS AND THIRTY ENLISTED MEN AT AIR SPACE ADMIN STAFF ARRIVE BY ROAD THIS MORNING STOP TWO GENERAL JAMES A BANKER INSPECTOR AIR SPACE DEFENSE ARRIVE BY HELICOPTER FLIGHT CLEARANCE FOUR-ONE-TWO TO RV WITH THIS GROUP AND PROCEED NORAD HQ STOP REQUEST YOU AFFORD ALL COURTESIES AND ASSISTANCE STOP ACKNOWLEDGE AND DESTROY STOP

He signed the communication in the name and rank of his superior.

Within ten minutes the acknowledge and wilco signal came back.

The second message was addressed to the Officer Commanding NORAD HQ, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. It read:

AS FAVOR I ADVISE YOU MY INSPECTOR-GENERAL � GENERAL JAMES A BANKER � WILL VISIT YOU TODAY FOR NON-SCHEDULED INSPECTION STOP PLEASE GIVE HIM EVERY COURTESY STOP DO NOT REPEAT NOR INFORM HIM OF THIS PREVIOUS WARNING STOP ACKNOWLEDGE AND DESTROY STOP

This was also signed with the Captain�s superior�s name and rank. The acknowledge and wilco signal came back with one rider:

REGRET OFFICER COMMANDING ON LEAVE FOR ONE DAY THIS DAY STOP I SHALL PERSONALLY SEE ALL IS IN ORDER STOP

I also regret this plot.

quote:

It was signed by a Colonel as acting commanding officer. The Captain smiled, shredded all his copies, then picked up the telephone to dial a number with a Texas prefix. When the number answered he asked if Captain Blake was there.

�I�m sorry, sir, I think you have a wrong number.� The voice on the line was thin, reedy, with a slight squeak.

�I�m sorry as well, but no harm�s done, sir. I must have misdialled. I hope I haven�t disturbed you.�

�Not at all,� replied Walter Luxor. �Goodbye, sir.� General Banker and his adjutant, Major Mike Mazzard, walked out of the officers� mess, receiving smart salutes from the two private soldiers on guard duty. They had been greeted by a number of other officers as they left. At least two of them had remarked to the General: �Quite a party last night, Sir.�

�And I�m getting quite a reputation,� the General grunted. �Nothing tonight, Mike, see to it. Early night. All right?�

Covering Bond's headache as a hangover is pretty on-brand.

quote:

�As you say, sir.�

The Kiowa helicopter was already sitting on the pad in front of the officers� mess, its rotor turning idly.

The Bell OH-58 Kiowa was a very long-serving helicopter in the US military, from 1969 until 2017; many of the mothballed copters were sold to Croatia, Tunisia, and Greece and continue flying there. It's a militarized version of the Bell 206 JetRanger, one of the most common civilian helicopters. They saw heavy service from Vietnam to the Middle East and were good at the light helicopter job, whether it was recon or air support, but improving technology means that just sending out Apaches with UAV support is cheaper overall.

quote:

�Oh no,� the General groaned. �We doing the whole trip in that, Mike?�

�I�m afraid so, sir.�

�Well, I just hope the flying weather�s good. I don�t think I�m well enough to stand too much bumping around today.�

�Weather report�s excellent, sir.�

They had sat together over a large jug of coffee while the General�s adjutant went over the day�s schedule.

�Fly direct from here to Peterson Air Base, where there should be two trucks with around thirty enlisted men, some NCOs, and a couple of officers � Captain Luxor and another one. They�ll be there for show, unless you decide the main security of the norad Combat Operations Centre needs testing. Your car and the driver�ll be waiting as well, sir.�

�Good. And we go straight to Cheyenne Mountain?�

�We go to the Number Two Entrance. That is the best way, takes us straight to the main command post levels. You said in your memo that the object was to test readiness and examine the command post structure. That was the priority.�

�Yes, I seem to remember . . .�

�. . . that we were going to pull a fast one?� Mazzard finished for him. �That�s right. The Space Wolf question.�

The General frowned. �The memory�s going, Mike. Yes, wasn�t I going to ask them point blank to hand over the computer tapes to me for personal keeping?�

�That was the idea. There�s a regulation regarding the SW tapes. They�re closed, restricted, and on the Most Secret list. Nobody down there has the right to hand them over, or even let you see them. The idea was to test reaction to an order from a very senior officer.�

I bet it'll all go great!

quote:

�Okay, we�ll see if it works.� They were still talking about it as the General swung himself into the Kiowa helicopter, greeted the pilot and strapped himself in. Mazzard climbed aboard, after the General, and took the seat next to him.

A few moments later, the rotor turned, and the small chopper lifted off, nose down, circling, then climbing � heading northwest towards Colorado.

# ? Dec 10, 2020 10:44

Runcible Cat: May 28, 2007; Ignoring this post

chitoryu12 posted:

Chapter 19: Four-Star General

Okay, that's the end of the series! Bye folks!

Thank you for your service! o7

chitoryu12 posted:

And extremely confused!

hell,

chitoryu12 posted:

You didn't even hypnotize a new accent?

I wish they'd tried to hypnotise him into a lovely Cajun accent, honh. Really leaned in to the stupid.

# ? Dec 10, 2020 15:27

poisonpill: Nov 8, 2009; The only way to get huge fast is to insult a passing witch and hope she curses you with Beast-strength.

I could really picture this being a Roger Moore movie plot, complete with a terrible ADR Cajun accent overdubbing all of these scenes.

# ? Dec 10, 2020 16:21

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

poisonpill posted:

I could really picture this being a Roger Moore movie plot, complete with a terrible ADR Cajun accent overdubbing all of these scenes.

Binging the original Magnum PI, this almost seems like one of those plots.

# ? Dec 11, 2020 05:37

Ichabod Sexbeast: Dec 5, 2011; Giving 'em the old razzle-dazzle

chitoryu12 posted:

Binging the original Magnum PI, this almost seems like one of those plots.

Is there really any evidence Magnum PI ISN'T a brainwashed James Bond?

# ? Dec 11, 2020 09:26

High Warlord Zog: Dec 12, 2012

chitoryu12 posted:

Chapter 18: Shock Tactics
Unfortunately for Bond, there are still about 40 pages left in this book.

And with less than 40 pages to go... brainwashing! This book is absurdly overstuffed

# ? Dec 12, 2020 09:52

Pershing: Feb 21, 2010; John "Black Jack" Pershing
Hard Fucking Core

John Le Carré had died:

https://twitter.com/JonnyGeller/status/1338239733638508547?s=19

# ? Dec 13, 2020 23:02

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Chapter 20: Cheyenne Mountain

quote:

The General dozed a little during the flight and seemed less hung over by the time the pilot turned in his seat, pointing down. They were high in the clear, endless blue skies over Colorado. In the distance the mountain peaks reached up: serrated and sharp jags of rock.

A few minutes later they descended towards Peterson Field and the General�s waiting convoy. Mazzard helped General Banker from the helicopter, asking if he wanted to inspect the men who were drawn up in front of their vehicles. The General took a perfunctory look, nodded and walked over, to be greeted by a painfully thin Captain whose face looked like a skull.

�Captain Luxor, sir.� The officer saluted, and led the General along the ranks.

�Did I meet you before, Captain?� The General stared hard at Luxor.

�No, sir.�

As they went towards the staff car, with Luxor just out of earshot, General Banker muttered to Mazzard, �That Captain. I�m sure I�ve seen him before, Mike.�

�You saw his picture, General.� The Major spoke in an equally low voice. �In all the papers. Some hot-shot plastic surgeon did one hell of a job on him. Poor guy had his face burned off in Nam.�

�Bastards,� spat the General.

The convoy was impressive: two motorcycle outriders, followed by an M113 Armoured Personnel Carrier, fully loaded with its two-man crew and section of combat troops, the heavy 12.7mm Browning manned at its curved swivel mounting.

That's the Gavin to you, General!

quote:

General Banker�s staff car rode behind the 113, while another APC boxed the car in from the rear.

Okay fine, I guess I'm obligated to talk about it.

The M113 was developed in 1960 by the FMC Corporation, which stands for....the Food Machinery Chemical Corporation. Yeah, in World War II the US gave a contract to build tracked amphibious landing vehicles to a pesticide and canned food manufacturer. Industry is weird. The design was combined with aluminum armor by Kaiser Aluminum and first entered service in 1962 with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. The boxy vehicle was initially intended as a "battle taxi", an APC that would do nothing but dump soldiers at a designated point before retreating to the rear. This turned out to not be a particularly good idea, so M113s were hastily refitted with extra guns and up-armor kits. Despite the vehicle's deficiencies, it has no expectations to be replaced for years and is in service around the world.

So, the Gavin.

A very crazy man, Lt. Mike "Sparky" Sparks, has a record of dedicating his entire life to claiming that he's the best Marine to ever Marine. This has included a bizarre obsession with the M113 and an equal obsession with demanding that it be officially nicknamed the "Gavin", after General James M. Gavin of World War II. His dedication to this weirdness has led to the M113 incorrectly being called the "Gavin" on various websites. It's gone so far as him unironically proposing a flying version: the AeroGavin.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwHqLtK_TpY

quote:

The staff car driver was not known to the General, who thought the man had probably been built from the leftovers of the Mount Rushmore carvings. Certainly his sergeant�s uniform appeared to be very tight on him, but he drove smoothly enough and showed all the correct courtesies. The General would have preferred his own regular driver, whose name eluded him at this moment.

Major Mazzard sat in the rear with the General, while the hideously scarred Captain took his seat up front, next to the driver. The small convoy moved slowly away from the helipad towards the main gates of Peterson Field, the General�s pennant bright and flying from the offside wing matched, on the other side, by the stars and stripes.

The barriers were raised without question, the guard turning out to present arms as the staff car swept through, while other officers and enlisted men came to attention, saluting as befitted the exalted rank of a four-star general.

Within the hour they were travelling at a steady rate through the foothills, on restricted military roads. The area was well-policed by both air force and army, but nobody made any attempt to stop them or ask for documentation. The small police detachments simply came to attention as the convoy passed by. The General was impressed � two men on motorcycles, two more crewing each of the APCs. He also counted twelve or thirteen combat troops to each APC, including one young officer. Thirty-two men � possibly more. With his driver, Mazzard and the Captain, the force was at least thirty-five strong. Very good, and all armed with M16s and hand guns. Mike Mazzard, the Captain, and his driver also carried side arms. What General could have wanted for better protection?

Especially less than 30 pages before the end of the book with no impending resolution?

quote:

�You�ve got it sewn up nicely, Mike,� said the General, beaming. �Very good organisation. Well done.�

�I only pick up a telephone, General. You know that, sir.�

They were climbing into the mountains now, passing a side road marked with a military arrow sign: NORAD HQ.

�That�s the way up to the main entrance, sir,� Mazzard told him. �We go some five miles up here and turn back to come in at the side. It�s like a kind of service entrance for the control rooms. I figure someone from Peterson�ll have tipped them off by now. They�ll probably all be on edge around the main entrance buildings.�

�They�ll know at this end too,� the General grunted. �Not fools, these people. They�ll all know. Be expecting us exactly where we�re going in.�

Ten minutes or so passed before the convoy reached the next slip road, duly marked NORAD 2. �Here we go, then, sir. You really feeling better?� Mazzard craned forward to take a good look at the General, and the skull-faced Captain turned in the front seat.

�Is the General not well?�

�Captain,� General Banker growled, �when a man�s just given a new, and highly-responsible posting, parted from his wife while the house gets fixed up, and living on base, he sometimes makes a fool of himself. No, I am not ill; but I used up a lot of cleaning fluid last night.�

That's also how I get through this book.

quote:

The Captain made a sound which the General took to be humorous.

�I feel�, the General continued, �a shade like a puppet.� Turning to Mazzard: �You walk me through it, okay? I�ll be fine if you simply guide me.�

I promise, Gardner, you can make fewer references to what the reader knows.

quote:

�Sure have,� said the General. From above came the clatter of a helicopter, flying low, as though following the convoy.

They were in a gap now, hewn through solid rock, the great slanting sides closing them in. Then out of the gap into a left turn, and the grey road widened, white dust falling around them, like a fine lawn spray as they came on to a clean mountain stretch.

The mountain reached up above them, and there � a mile ahead � stood a solid pair of gates, with a great high circle of cyclone fencing reaching out on each side. Large steel girders were set at intervals in the fencing, each topped by constantly moving cameras. Behind the fence, a cluster of buildings stretched back to the rockface of Cheyenne Mountain.

There were two GIs out in front of the gates. As the convoy appeared, one of them turned to shout towards the blockhouse on the right of the gates. Before they came within a hundred yards of the barriers, an officer appeared, through a smaller gateway by the blockhouse.

The convoy slowed, the motorcycle escort wheeling off, left and right, to come in close to the staff car. The first APC also turned, moving right, then circling on its own axis to point inwards. Precise and very military. The General was, once more, most impressed. These people knew what they were doing.

Turning towards Mazzard, he said, �You do the introductions, Mike, will you? As usual. No fuss. I�ll stay slightly aloof.�

Mazzard, of course, quickly talks his way past the gate guard.

quote:

�You don�t want to inspect that honour guard, do you, sir?� Mazzard asked. But the General, in spite of his hangover, appeared intent on doing everything correctly. Slowly he passed down the ranks of men, stopping to ask questions of every third soldier.

At the end of the last rank, the General dismissed the guard commander, returning his sharp salute, then looked at the young NORAD Captain who had met them. �Right,� he snapped. �I want you, Captain, to take me, with my adjutant and the Captain here . . .�

�Luxor,� the thin, damaged officer prompted, �Captain Luxor.�

�Yes.� The General shot Luxor an unfriendly look. �Yes, you; Major Mazzard, and Captain Luxor. Nobody else, just the four of us, will go in; and I wish to meet your Commanding Officer.�

Mazzard, at the General�s elbow, quickly asked, �Sir, don�t you think half a dozen of the men should . . . ?�

"Eat some delicious ice cream?"

quote:

�No. Major.� The General was very firm. �They don�t need to see any of this. Don�t really know why we bothered with an escort of this size. No, we go and have a look. Now let�s move. I don�t want to hang around here all day. Just the four of us.� Before he had even stopped speaking, the General began to walk purposefully, his back as straight as a ramrod, towards the buildings huddled close to the rockface.

He was well ahead of Mazzard and Luxor, when the NORAD Captain came up fast, trotting at the General�s heels. �The Commanding Officer, sir . . .�

�Yes?�

�Well, sir. As I said, we have a full Colonel on duty, waiting for you. The Commanding Officer�s away on leave today sir. I think you should�ve been informed.�

The General nodded. �That�s nothing to bother about. Your Colonel�ll do as well as anybody.�

The buildings, set against the rockface, were purely a defensive camouflage for the entrance. Solidly built, reinforced with steel, and housing a few small administrative offices their main purpose was to block the tunnel which led into the mountain.

The young Captain was still speaking. �At the main entrance � around the other side � we have an underground park for vehicles and other facilities,� he chattered. �This is really a kind of back door.� They passed through a pair of steel doors, which swung open when the Captain pressed his hand against a small screen.

Behind the steel doors, the world changed. The passage narrowed into a short metal-lined alley, only wide enough to accommodate one man at a time. This led to a small command post, occupied by four sturdy marines who stood guard over the next entrance of sliding steel panels.

The very few photos of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex indicate that this isn't far off from reality!

quote:

The marines, for all their immaculate appearance, were co-operative and unquestioning. After a word from the NORAD Captain, one spoke into a white intercom, then they stood aside as the blast-proof panels slid noiselessly back.

The General and his entourage did not really know what to expect within the mountain. The General, himself, supposed that his mental picture would be coloured by other similar installations he had visited, though they all had seemed somewhat like movie sets. He expected large elevators, taking staff deep below the earth, or open railcars, like a modern coal mine.

There turned out to be no such devices. Once through the doors they were already inside the mountain and standing in a great circular chamber, a reception area, fashioned from inside the bare rock. Air conditioning kept a pleasant, comfortable temperature, and there were carpets underfoot, though the place was, basically, a refurbished cavern.

Four large desks were manned by strangely uninterested staff, in charge of electronic sniffers for bugs, weapons, and explosives. The General insisted on checking each of these desks before turning to meet a tall, bronzed Colonel, who wore pilot�s wings and a plethora of medal ribbons. The Colonel was backed up by a team of some four officers, most of whom wore the rank of major. All seemed to be around the same age � late thirties, or early forties.

Now firmly in ~~Black Mesa~~ Cheyenne Mountain, "General Banker" gets more ultimately unimportant exposition about the layout of Cheyenne Mountain. Mazzard pushes the unusually casual and talkative colonel to take them to the Space Wolves section first.

quote:

On the other side of the doors, a wide passage led to a T-junction corridor. Looking to left and right, the General saw large swing doors set at intervals along the cross-stroke passage. Straight ahead were similar doors, marked in bold white lettering Gallery: Main Operations.

The Colonel stepped to one side, allowing General Banker to be the first through, the other officers following respectfully.

They were on a wide viewing platform, fitted with chairs and a high, angled, thick glass screen. The view from this gallery was both impressive and virtually unique.

Below them lay a vast amphitheatre in which the audience consisted of about a hundred men and women, each seated behind a bank of computer and electronic instruments � keyboards, scanners, and other complex hardware. Each person on duty appeared to be completely wrapped up in his or her work, making occasional entries on keyboards or speaking into headsets.

Above them � on the far, huge, curved wall � were three massive electronic Mercator projections, each mapping the world. All three projections were topped by rows of digital clocks, showing the accurate time along the earth�s varied zones. But most important, each of the projections was crisscrossed by slow-moving, coloured lines � blues and greens; brilliant whites; blacks, orange; even lines which broke up into different, segmented, hues.

For comparison, the actual NORAD Tactical Operations Center as of 2009.

quote:

The General let out a slow whistle. He remembered seeing smaller versions of things like this, but never anything on such a scale. �I�d be grateful, Colonel, if you�d come over by me and tell us about this amazing display.�

The Colonel started to speak, his voice a strange monotone as he explained the use, and purpose, of the Main Control.

The three projections showed the exact number of known satellites and other space hardware in orbit � the left-hand projection being all non-USA satellites; the one to the far right showing American equipment; while the centre projection monitored all new indications.

At the same time, this centre screen could be programmed, in an instant, to show everything � both American and non-American: even down to the juxtaposition of satellites.

�That is also the so-called Early Warning projection,� the Colonel told them. �Anything new thrown into space by a foreign power will be spotted on the central screen.�

All three of these great electronic maps were monitored and operated by the technicians seated in the amphitheatre, while they, in turn, were passed information from a number of sources. �Anything new would come from one of our tracking stations: ground-based or satellite. Our own hardware is passed on through individual Command Posts, within this complex.� As the Colonel described it, the whole display sounded very simple, yet nobody seeing it could fail to be awed.

The Colonel was still speaking. �For instance, the Big Bird and Keyhole II reconnaissance satellites, are shown on the right-hand projection, but their work is monitored by their own Command Post, which is just along the passage outside this gallery. Of course, all the information those particular satellites send back goes to other stations.

"Now over here is our Santa Tracker..."

quote:

�Now, if we get something new from, let us say, the Soviet Union, this is immediately picked up on the trace. Within seconds, our SDS � Satellite Data System � relays details. We would take action before knowing exactly what the new object is; but it�s all very fast when it happens, which it does quite often.�

He went on to explain how each satellite system had its own headquarters, working independently. The weather satellites, for instance, passed their data directly to meteorological centres, and the same applied to the reconnaissance eyes in the sky.

�In a way, we�re like police patrols.� The Colonel spoke directly to General Banker. �We can see what�s up there, check it out, pass on information, and take action. But we�re not responsible for the individual tasks.�

�Except for the Space Wolves,� Major Mazzard, on the General�s right, said.

The Colonel nodded. �That�s a very special project,� he said. �Would the General like to see their Command Post? It�s possibly the largest we have here.�

Major Mazzard and Captain Luxor both answered for General Banker. Yes, the General would very much like to see the SW Command Post.

Anything that speeds this up!

quote:

�Anything you want, sir.� The Colonel led them out of the Main Operations Gallery and along the corridor to their left until they came to one of the sets of swing doors, marked KS Control. �Killersat,� the Colonel explained, leading the way into a large chamber.

Inside there was semi-darkness. Against the far wall, a smaller version of one of the electronic Mercator projections glowed with light � creeping red lines sweeping above the world � while three men, an officer and two Master- Sergeants, tended the computers and controls.

�There it is.� The Colonel waved a hand. Then he spoke louder, for the benefit of the three men controlling the Space Wolves Command Post. �Gentlemen, General Banker, the Inspector-General Air/Space Defence. Just taking a look.�

Mazzard was close to the General now. �I think the General wants to take more than a look,� he said loudly.

General Banker turned towards Mazzard, a question forming on his lips.

�You remember, sir,� Mazzard prompted. �You�re the senior officer here.�

Banker�s brow creased and he looked around. The Colonel stood next to him, while the rest of the staff crowded in the doorway. Captain Luxor stood behind the Colonel�s staff, out in the corridor.

�Sir, the computer tapes and printouts,� Mazzard prompted, close at his right elbow.

�Of course. Sorry, Mike.� The General smiled, then raised his voice. �I don�t wish to bother you, gentlemen, but who�s in charge of this Command Post?�

The officer seated in front of the central bank of controls raised a hand. �Sir.�

�Would you be good enough to unhook your computer tapes and box up all available printouts, please? I need to take them away for study,� the General said calmly.

"Our normal study that everyone does."

quote:

The officer in command slowly stood up. �Very well, sir,� he muttered and began to move around to the rear of the large console. Within a few minutes he had the big spools of tape in containers, on top of which he placed a number of flat metal boxes, containing the computer printouts. �Anything else the General requires?� the officer asked.

�No, that�ll be all,� Mazzard answered for his General. �Just bring them over here.�

The Space Wolves Command Post officer started coming towards them in the dim light.

Then, with speed and complete surprise, General Banker moved, his body pivoting in front of the Colonel, one hand reaching out to wrench the Colonel�s pistol from its holster.

Even as he turned, the General let out a yell: �Stop! Don�t hand those over! The rest of you, grab the two officers with me. They�re not what they seem. Now! Get them now!�

......oh?

quote:

It had all happened that morning, during the helicopter ride to Peterson Field.

The General, feeling decidedly queasy from the previous night�s party, had closed his eyes, intending to doze. But as soon as he relaxed, General Banker began to suffer a lightheadedness, followed by strange mental experiences.

At first he thought it was something very serious, like a heart attack. He felt faint, and images began to flash through his mind.

It was like a film running backwards, at great speed, intercut with odd details he could not properly identify. There were memories from recent days, just after his promotion; scenes from his time in Vietnam; and moments before that � as though the reel was taking him back to childhood.

The intercut images were very odd. A woman, with one breast had come to give him pills. At least he thought it was her, for he smelled her hair. Nena. Tara. Cedar. Bond. James Bond. 007.

The General opened his eyes and realised that he was not General James A. Banker at all. While he was still feeling lightheaded, the truth flooded into him, as though through an open window to his mind.

She had come and given him pills for this very purpose. Then and there, in the helicopter, Bond had not even attempted to work out how he had been drugged, and hypnotised, into another personality. All he could think of was how to keep in character until the best possible moment.

That moment was here, and now.

And there were pills that handled everything. Which took effect after one chapter.

quote:

As he swung around, grasping the Colonel�s big Colt .45, Bond realised that Mazzard was reaching for his gun, yelling as he did so: �Don�t listen to the General! Don�t listen to him! The man�s crazy! Take no orders from him!�

Mazzard�s pistol came out of its holster a second too late. Bond�s arm was up, and the roar from his two shots came as gigantic, echoing explosions in the chamber.

Mazzard was lifted off his feet. His body hung aloft for a second, blood beginning to spout from his chest, then slammed back against the wall. Immediately, Bond turned, looking for Luxor.

The skeleton man appeared to have vanished.

With every ounce of authority he could muster, Bond shouted for the computer tapes to be returned. �Colonel, get your men into action, and fast. Those troops who came with me mean business. See to your defences.�

The Colonel hesitated for a moment. The Command Post reeked of cordite and death. Two of the other officers had drawn their weapons but seemed uncertain about what to do. From the moment of his arrival, Bond had recognised the workings of Bismaquer�s sinister drug. They had been within an ace of actually handing over the tapes. Now it was a question of making sure they were not taken by force.

Bond shouted orders again, this time demanding to know what had happened to Luxor.

�He went . . . After you shot at . . . he walked away . . .� one of the NORAD officers stammered.

�Colonel, your defences. Get on to the nearest base. You�ll need help,� Bond commanded, his voice sharp as a whip.

"Sir, why do you have a British accent?"

quote:

As though to underline the order, the entire chamber shook with the dull thud of an explosion from the direction of the main entrance.

A marine appeared in the doorway. �Anti-tank rockets being fired at the entrance block, sir,� he shouted at the Colonel, who had already leaped to the nearest telephone.

There was another whoomp, sending a tremor through the mountain complex. Bond looked at the marine. �The officer who came in with me?�

�Sir?�

�The one with a face like a skull . . .�

�There were shots from here, and he ran past us, sir, saying he had to get help.�

The complex shook again, to another rocket burst.

�That�s the help he was going for,� said Bond. �Muster everyone you can. The Colonel�s getting word out. This base is under attack. It�s not a drill. It�s the real thing.�

Remember how much was made about how the drugged soldiers would basically do whatever they were told without flaw? And now they all seem to be back to normal?

quote:

By this time, they had all realised the danger. Bond turned to the Colonel. �They�ll try for a quick break-in,� he said, willing himself to remain calm. �Blast their way through with anti-tank rockets . . .�

�M72s by the sound of them.� The Colonel looked ashen. �I don�t understand this. We nearly handed over . . .�

Those would be the basic M72 LAW rockets, disposable anti-tank rocket launchers in service since 1963. They're very cheap and light weapons, weighing 5.5 pounds in the variants in use at this time, and have seen use into the modern day in the Middle East due to their lighter weight than the M136 AT4 intended to replace them.

quote:

�Don�t worry, Colonel, that�s not your fault. The point is that those bastards�ll smash their way in, hacking with knives if they have to. If that skull-face is out there, they�ll be even more determined. What�ve we got in the way of defence?�

The Colonel gave a couple of quick orders to his officers, who hesitated until Bond � realising the problem with Bismaquer�s drug � told them to carry on.

�The guard out front is fighting back,� said the Colonel, swallowing. �Doing quite well, I�d guess. We�ve got reinforcements coming in, but the problem is here. Within the mountain. They�ve blasted through the first doors, and the section into the reception area�s now catching it. I gather they�re close to the doors . . .�

�And when those doors are down, the force that�s left�ll come piling through that narrow entrance. What�ve we got?�

�A few grenades, the side arms, and a pair of AR18s.�

�Get the Armalites, then. Quickly!�

The AR18, as Bond knew it, was the latest commercial Armalite weapon. It was fully automatic with a fire rate of 800 rpm, and magazines holding twenty rounds. He was at the Colonel�s heels as the two men made their way to the arms locker, set into the wall near the Main Operations Gallery doors.

.....the gently caress?

The ArmaLite AR-18 is an assault rifle developed as a cheaper and simpler alternative to the AR-15 that was adopted by the US as the M16. The short-stroke gas piston design, made from stamped and bent sheet metal, failed to achieve any significant military sales or success in American testing. It mostly served as an influence on later assault rifles like the L85, G36, and FN F2000 in its operating system.

Of all possibilities, the place the AR-18 saw its most infamous success was with the IRA, who acquired a number of AR-18s (and the semi-auto AR-180s) and used them to name their "Armalite and ballot box" strategy of engaging in violent armed resistance while Sinn F�in attempted to win elections. At the time Gardner wrote this book, this would be the most prominent usage of the AR-18.

I have no idea what he was thinking.

quote:

The weapon felt good in Bond�s hands, and he grabbed magazines from the Colonel, stuffing them into his uniform jacket and slamming one into position on the gun.

As they turned away from the locker, a larger explosion ripped from the reception area, and several soldiers staggered back through the entrance to the main complex. One was the marine Bond had spoken to earlier.

�They�ve broken through, blown the doors into reception,� the man gasped, and Bond saw he was clutching a jagged tear in his shoulder, the blood trickling through his fingers.

As he reached the doors to the big, circular reception area, Bond briefly took in the carnage. The neat desks were shattered and bodies lay everywhere, some dead, others crying with pain from their wounds. From the main entrance directly opposite him, smoke poured into the reception area.

The assault would come down the narrow passage, one man at a time, Bond thought. He braced himself against the wall, gripping the weapon against his hip. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Colonel taking up a similar stance. One of the officers who had been with them in the Space Wolves Command Post was sprawled on his back within a few feet of them, a slash where his throat had been. It crossed Bond�s mind that Bismaquer already had a great deal to pay for.

"One man at a time" would be an incredibly bad way of doing this. No grenades? No automatic covering fire?

quote:

Then, through the smoke, SPECTRE�S men started to enter the reception area.

The Colonel and Bond opened up at the same moment, sending a double spray of bullets into the hole which had once been a pair of sliding steel doors.

�Like shooting fish in a barrel, General,� shouted the Colonel, for SPECTRE�S troops came pounding down the narrow passageway and into the reception area like sheep being penned into an abattoir.

Their AR18s rattling, the Colonel and Bond scythed through the attackers as they appeared through the smoke. The bullets hurled them back, threw them aside, cut through them, until suddenly there was an unearthly silence.

Tiocfaidh �r l�!

quote:

Finally the smoke began to clear, and even Bond winced to see the damage they had done. Then he reloaded, bracing himself. From outside there came yet another explosion, then a shout.

�Colonel? Colonel, sir? Any NORAD officer in there . . . ?�

�Yes,� the Colonel shouted back. �State your name and rank. What is it?�

�They�re finished out here, sir. The other APC�s pinned down on the road by forces from the main entrance. It�s Sergeant Carter here.�

The Colonel nodded at Bond. �It�s okay, General. I know Carter.�

Bond thought it best that he remain a four-star general for the time being. At least that would stave off awkward questions. His main concern, now that Heavenly Wolf had been foiled, was Cedar Leiter. Then, once he knew what had happened to her, he would hunt down Bismaquer.

Yeah, there's no serious issues with the mind control ice cream. All of the soldiers have been shaken out of it by the attack so there's no lingering concerns.

quote:

Outside, there was more carnage. Medical teams worked on the wounded and carried away the dead. The one APC was still burning, and there were great gaps in the cyclone fencing.

From down the road, out of sight, came occasional bursts of rifle and automatic fire.

�How�s it going?� The Colonel shouted to a three-man team crouched over a field communications radio. A sergeant answered him. More aid was on the way, and the other APC was now almost put out of action, the troops on their last legs.

�Still can�t understand why we nearly gave the stuff away,� the Colonel muttered almost to himself. �I don�t feel good about any of this.�

�You will � eventually. Not your doing, Colonel. They had me as a sitting duck as well . . .�

"Dammit, Colonel, we're almost out of book! Just forget the plot and keep shooting!"

quote:

The sergeant with the radio called to the Colonel that there was a civilian helicopter a mile away. �A woman. Keeps making calls, asking permission to put down. Wants to know if we�ve got a Mr Bond with us, sir.�

�Let her down,� Bond ordered, still pulling rank. �I know what that�s all about. Bring her in here.�

It could easily be Bismaquer, holding a pistol to either Cedar�s or Nena�s head. But this was his only quick route out. Alternatively, it could be a fast lead to Bismaquer, and Bond could not resist that. He remembered there had been a helicopter following the convoy on the way in.

�That okay, sir?� the radio man called to the Colonel.

�If the General says so. Yes.�

Bond went over to the radio sergeant. �You don�t like ice cream, do you, sergeant?� he asked, having just witnessed the man clear a four-star general�s order with his immediate, known superior.

Reaching for the hand mike, the communications man shook his head. �Hate the muck, sir. I can�t even look at it.� He gave Bond a puzzled look as he started to call in the helicopter.

Evil, truly.

quote:

Bond quickly explained to the Colonel that he must get away, saying he would contact him as soon as possible. �Any problems, call the White House. Say you ran into a Mr Bond. They�ll clear it, I think.�

The Colonel was obviously dazed as he watched the little white metal insect dropping gently into the compound, neatly sliding to one side at the last moment in order to avoid the burned out APC � a final memorial to Bismaquer�s ruined attempt on the security of Cheyenne Mountain.

The small helicopter was a faithful model � a modern twin-seater version of the old Bell 47. Bond could see only one figure seated within its perspex bulb. It was certainly not Bismaquer. This figure was slim, in white overalls and helmet.

She already had the door open and was swinging herself down as Bond reached the machine.

�Oh James. Thank God. Oh, thank God you�re safe.�

Nena Bismaquer wrapped her arms around Bond�s neck, clinging to him, as though she could never bear to let him out of her sight again.

Tired as he was, worried about Cedar�s safety, and anxious to discover if Luxor had escaped, and where Bismaquer had hidden himself, James Bond still felt it might be a good thing never to let go of Nena.

# ? Dec 14, 2020 10:19

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 30, 2024 01:52

Trin Tragula: Apr 22, 2005

quote:

Then, with speed and complete surprise, General Banker moved, his body pivoting in front of the Colonel, one hand reaching out to wrench the Colonel�s pistol from its holster.

Even as he turned, the General let out a yell: �Stop! Don�t hand those over! The rest of you, grab the two officers with me. They�re not what they seem. Now! Get them now!�

And it's scream! bang! shout! Raise an awful din!

Trin Tragula fucked around with this message at 18:33 on Dec 14, 2020

# ? Dec 14, 2020 18:30

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > The Distance Between Insanity & Genius - Let's Read More James Bond Books

«‹›22 »