Page 31 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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‘Yes, but we have to deal with your kind quite often.’ Broderick faced him,

and for a moment Bond prepared to defend himself. It was clear that the FBI
man would have liked to tear him apart. ‘We have orders not to lay a finger on
you,’ he said, finally. ‘Seems there are people waiting to talk with you who can
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled of all your problems, and you’ve gotten plenty of those, Captain James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
take care
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Bond. That should be clear to a drunken June bug, let alone a man of your
intelligence.’
‘Sorry, I don’t follow you,’ he began, but was cut short by Broderick
shouting for the two agents who had been at the hotel. Their names, it seemed,

were Agents Nolan and Wood and they came into their chief’s office like two
men hoping there was going to be a fight.
‘Lock him up and keep him happy until we move him.’ Broderick turned
away.
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‘Look . . .’ Bond began.
‘No, you look, buddy.’ Agent Nolan was close, with a hand around Bond’s
wrist. ‘You look and listen, Captain Bond. If it wasn’t for our orders, I’d do
something that wouldn’t be nice, like reorganising that plummy English accent

of yours or sticking your pearly whites in the roof of your own pink little
mouth. So remember that and don’t take chances.’
Bond let the fury build up inside himself, keeping it under control. He could
probably do things to Agent Nolan that would come as a very big surprise to

the man, but there was no point. Instead he asked if he was being arrested.
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‘Not as easy as that, Bond,’ the other agent, Wood, drawled. ‘You’re to be
handed back to your own. I just hope they know what to do with a scumbag like
you.’

‘I think I have a right, then, to speak to the British Embassy in Washington or
one of their representatives here.’
Broderick turned sharply, face flushed. ‘You have no rights! Nothing!
Understand? We simply have to turn you over to people who do have rights, so

you’d best behave yourself. I’d hate to report that you got yourself shot or
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messed up by falling down a flight of stone steps while being unco-operative.
Get him out of my sight!’
The agents took him by the arms and led him through an outer office, down a

small flight of stairs to a holding cell into which they pushed him, clanging the
door shut.
‘You’re so damned sensitive that we had to remove the Marshals who

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