Page 37 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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Bond’s voice was heavily tinged with sarcasm. ‘Sir, I know you like being

cryptic and using cryptos, but a crypto’s no good to me unless I know what it
means.’
‘Oh, you’ll find out what it means, James,’ all fatherly now. ‘You’ll know
what it mea
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of the US people you’re going to be working with.’ He lifted one of the
telephones which was answered immediately. ‘Would you ask Commander
Rushia to step in now, please.’ He pronounced the name ‘Roosha’.
Rushia was in civilian clothes, smart, tidy, even a shade of the dandy,

sporting a blue white-spotted bow tie, an immaculate white shirt, dun coloured
slacks and a lightweight thin-striped summer jacket. But it was the man himself
whom Bond saw immediately, not the clothes. He was big, tall and broad-
shouldered, about Bond’s age but with hair which had gone prematurely grey.
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He had a rangy look about him, eyes which seemed to yearn for far-off
horizons, either at sea or the edges of great wheat fields reaching almost to the
sky. His hands were large, big, strong and used sparingly in simple gestures.
Bond’s first impression was of a man who might just have been a mite

happier on some Mid-Western farm. His whole manner and speech also
seemed to betray this essential idea, as though he wanted people to think of him
only as slow, charming and have the feeling that he was really not up to the
complexities, let alone the niceties of his calling.

‘Captain James Bond, I want you to meet Commander Ed Rushia, US Naval
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Intelligence.’ M smiled quietly as he introduced the two men.
Rushia took a step forward and placed his large hand in Bond’s, giving it a
firm shake. ‘My gosh,’ he said, his voice soft, down-home as they say in

American. ‘Jiminy, James Bond. Heard a lot about you, Captain Bond. Mind if
I call you James?’
‘Be my guest.’ Bond did not usually like the American habit of becoming
almost bosom, first-name buddies within thirty seconds of meeting, but as he

felt the warm, firm pressure of Rushia’s handshake and looked into the
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friendly, twinkling eyes, he felt he might have known the man for years. ‘I can
call you Ed, yes?’
‘That’s mighty nice a’ you, James. ’Preciate it. Going to enjoy working with

you. You just call me anything you darned well please. Most people do.’
M watched the two men, as dissimilar as the proverbial chalk and cheese.
From his own first meeting with Commander Rushia he had known they would

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