Page 11 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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one’s tranquil face taking on an expression of concern as he listened, bending

slightly from the waist so that he could hear without causing the speaker to
raise his voice.
The pair were now very close to the Rolls and Bond had a full view of both
faces. He
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled began to read the young man’s lips only as he completed his short James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
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speech.
‘. . . and they say he’s dead,’ he seemed to say.
‘The idiots shot him?’ The tall one’s lips undoubtedly formed the pattern of
this rather shocked question.

The younger man nodded and mouthed, ‘They said they aimed low . . . but . .
.’
The imposing figure raised a hand. ‘I’ll see to them later.’ His face seemed
for a second contorted in fury. ‘Tell them incalculable damage may have been
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done regarding Lords.’
The art of lip-reading had been added to Bond’s armoury some time ago.
While in a Hong Kong hospital, recovering after a particularly dangerous
mission, he had been instructed in the rudiments of the art by a girl called

Ebbie Heritage. It would be a long time before he would forget that young
woman. She had taught him well, and now, for the first time, James Bond had
actually put this art to the test. He was willing to swear in a court of law that
the tall VIP had spoken of some recent death and the possibility of this act

being the cause of irreparable damage to some scheme.
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By the time he had digested what he had learned, the main subject of his
attention was already in the Rolls, together with his bodyguards, and the
vehicle was slowly moving from the front of the hotel.

He turned to one of the doormen. ‘Who’s the imposing gentleman in the
Rolls?’ he asked.
The doorman gave a thin smile. ‘Mr Lee, sir. That was the famous Mr Lee.
He’s on his way to make a very special presentation at the Museum of British

Columbia across the road there.’ He pointed to the far left of the hotel.
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Bond nodded his thanks and strolled out towards the waterfront, making a
left turn on Government Street, walking quickly towards the point where it
bisected Belleville, heading towards the Museum of British Columbia, which

he had visited, with great interest, only two days previously. The huge and
elegant presence of Mr Lee, as the doorman had called him, had somehow
fascinated Bond to the extent that he wished to know more about the man.

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