Page 33 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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revelation came to him. Only a numbness and the now unmistakable fact that

someone, for some reason, had set him up.
Around dusk, Broderick and the other two agents came down. Bond was
handcuffed to Nolan and they led him back out of the cell, up the steps and into
the main offices, all deserted except for the more obvious sig
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the coded key pads, electronically locked doors, and blinking alarm lights.
They unlocked and relocked doors by punching in codes, finally reaching a
deserted reception area with a double bank of elevators.
They locked one of the elevator cars in the ‘up’ position and Broderick sent

Wood down to make sure ‘we haven’t got any civilians around’, as he put it.
After five minutes Wood signalled through the emergency telephone system.
‘Downstairs, you just move fast, okay?’
Bond nodded, asking where he should move to.
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‘We’ll take you to a car out in back, and I want it real quick. No lagging
behind. The last thing we need is some smart-ass reporter spotting you. You’re
probably next month’s front page, Bond, but sure as hell nobody wants you to
be splashed over the tabloids tomorrow.’

The main lobby of the building was as deserted as the offices above them,
but they led Bond away from the main street doors, taking him along a corridor
and out through the rear of the building where Wood sat at the wheel of an old
brown Chevy. Bond was bundled into the back, squashed between Nolan and

Broderick and was barely settled before Wood burned a great deal of rubber,
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pulling away and running through the gears like a racing driver.
He tried to follow the route, but the driver kept doubling back, taking last-
minute turn-offs, so that he became disorientated. He tried to remember the

map of San Francisco in his head and thought they were heading in the general
direction of the Embarcadero. He glimpsed the TransAmerica Pyramid
somewhere over to the right, then suddenly they were down by the old Ferry
Building, which always reminded him of Liverpool, and drawing up to the side

of a helicopter pad where a big S-61 sat in the glare of floodlights, its rotors
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idling, the word NAVY clearly visible on the rear assembly.
As the car pulled up, the floods went out, leaving only little blue marker
lights around the pad and up the ramp to the S-61. Nolan unlocked the

handcuffs. ‘Okay, Bond. Out we go. They’re looking forward to seeing you
inside that chopper. Rather you than me.’
A chill breeze buffeted their faces as Bond was assisted from the car and

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