Page 86 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled

into a crush of people and found the big Ed Rushia next to him. Talking very

low, as if to himself, he gave Rushia the gist of what was happening.
‘You sure get around,’ Ed muttered before he disappeared into the crowd.
The cab driver was not talkative, but just drove and Bond fiddled with his
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled making certain the driver could not see what he was doing – James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
briefcase,
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
unwrapping the package and transferring his trusted ASP 9mm automatic to the
waistband of his trousers, well back behind the right hip.
Manhattan looked like its fabled fairyland self from the bridge. It was only
when they got into the caverns of its streets, felt the roughness of the roads,

pitted and rutted, and saw the quality of life on the sidewalks at this time of
night, that Bond got the flow of adrenaline which always hit him on arrival in
this city. It was worse than the last time he had been there and his body tingled
with the excitement and static of danger.
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
The address he had been given was a big, red-brick apartment building. He
paid off the driver and carried his own luggage up the steps to the front door,
seeking out the apartment number, 4B, on the security panel by the heavily
reinforced door. He pressed the bell and a voice – the woman he had spoken to

earlier – asked, ‘Yes?’
‘Peter. Here to look at the books.’
The buzzer was held for enough time to allow him inside before the door
clicked back behind him.

There was no elevator, possibly because the building was much older than
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
Otis, so he lugged the cases up four flights of stairs to the smartly painted
heavy door with a brass fitting that told him it was 4B.
She was tall and very thin, with a slightly long face and hair which was not

naturally blonde. He thought around thirty-five, give or take five years.
‘Peter,’ he said.
She peered past him. ‘Where’s Héliose? You said . . .’
‘My people instructed us to come separately.’ He was already inside the

door. ‘They were very specific about it. She’s following up to make certain we
James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
haven’t grown tails.’
‘Well, I was . . .’
‘What do I call you?’ Bond asked, dumping his luggage on the off-white

deep pile carpet and taking in the living room at a glance – nicely furnished,
two or three good prints on the walls, deep leather chairs, a couple of glass-
topped tables, big lamps. There was an exit towards a kitchen to his right and

James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled