LITMIR.BIZ

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girl woke up. She said anxiously, ‘What’s happened?’

      Bond said, ‘Stay here, Honey! Don’t move. I’ll be back.’ He broke through the bushes on the side away from the mountain and ran along the sand with Quarrel at his elbow.

      They came to the tip of the sandspit, twenty yards from the clearing. They stopped under cover of the final bushes. Bond parted them and looked through.

      What was it? Half a mile away, coming across the lake, was a shapeless thing with two glaring orange eyes with black pupils. From between these, where the mouth might be, fluttered a yard of blue flame. The grey luminescence of the stars showed some kind of domed head above two short batlike wings. The thing was making a low moaning roar that overlaid another noise, a deep rhythmic thud. It was coming towards them at about ten miles an hour, throwing up a creamy wake. Quarrel whispered, ‘Gawd, cap’n! What’s dat fearful ting?’

      Bond stood up. He said shortly, ‘Don’t know exactly. Some sort of tractor affair dressed up to frighten. It’s running on a diesel engine, so you can forget about dragons. Now let’s see.’ Bond spoke half to himself. ‘No good running away. The thing’s too fast for us and we know it can go over mangroves and swamps. Have to fight it here. What’ll its weak spots be? The drivers. Of course they’ll have protection. We don’t know how much. Quarrel, you start firing at that dome on top when it gets to two hundred yards. Aim carefully and keep on firing. I’ll go for its headlights when it gets to fifty yards. It’s not running on tracks. Must have some kind of giant tyres, aeroplane tyres probably. I’ll go for them too. Stay here. I’ll go ten yards along. They may start firing back and we’ve got to keep the bullets away from the girl. Okay?’ Bond reached out and squeezed the big shoulder. ‘And don’t worry too much. Forget about dragons. It’s just some gadget of Doctor No’s. We’ll kill the drivers and capture the damn thing and ride it down to the coast. Save us shoe-leather. Right?’

      Quarrel laughed shortly. ‘Okay, cap’n. Since you says so. But Ah sho hopes de Almighty knows he’s no dragon too!’

      Bond ran down the sand. He broke through the bushes until he had a clear field of fire. He called softly, ‘Honey!’

      ‘Yes, James.’ There was relief in the nearby voice.

      ‘Make a hole in the sand like we did on the beach. Behind the thickest roots. Get into it and lie down. There may be some shooting. Don’t worry about dragons. This is just a painted up motor car with some of Doctor No’s men in it. Don’t be frightened. I’m quite close.’

      ‘All right, James. Be careful.’ The voice was high with fright.

      Bond knelt on one knee in the leaves and sand and peered out.

      Now the thing was only about three hundred yards away and its yellow headlights were lighting up the sandspit. Blue flames were still fluttering from the mouth. They were coming from a long snout mocked-up with gaping jaws and gold paint to look like a dragon’s mouth. Flame-thrower! That would explain the burned bushes and the warden’s story. The blue flames would be coming from some kind of an after-burner. The apparatus was now in neutral. What would its range be when the compression was unleashed?

      Bond had to admit that the thing was an awesome sight as it moaned forward through the shallow lake. It was obviously designed to terrify. It would have frightened him but for the earthy thud of the diesel. Against native intruders it would be devastating. But how vulnerable would it be to people with guns who didn’t panic?

      He was answered at once. There came the crack of Quarrel’s Remington. A spark flew off the domed cabin and there was a dull clang. Quarrel fired another single shot and then a burst. The bullets hammered ineffectually against the cabin. There was not even a check in speed. The thing rolled on, swerving slightly to make for the source of the gunfire. Bond cradled the Smith & Wesson on his forearm and took careful aim. The deep cough of his gun sounded above the rattle of the Remington. One of the headlamps shattered and went out. He fired four shots at the other and got it with the fifth and last round in the cylinder. The thing didn’t care. It rolled straight on towards Quarrel’s hiding place. Bond reloaded and began firing at the huge bulge of the tyres under the bogus black and gold wings. The range was now only thirty yards and he could have sworn that he hit the nearest wheel again and again. No effect. Solid rubber? The first breath of fear stirred Bond’s skin.

      He reloaded. Was the damn thing vulnerable from the rear? Should he dash out into the lake and try and board it? He took a step forward through the bushes. Then he froze, incapable of movement.

      Suddenly, from the dribbling snout, a yellow-tipped bolt of blue flame had howled out towards Quarrel’s hiding place. There was a single puff of orange and red flame from the bushes to Bond’s right and one unearthly scream, immediately choked. Satisfied, the searing tongue of fire licked back into the snout. The thing turned on its axis and stopped dead. Now the blue hole of its mouth aimed straight at Bond.

      Bond stood and waited for his unspeakable end. He looked into the blue jaws of death and saw the glowing red filament of the firer deep inside the big tube. He thought of Quarrel’s body – there was no time to think of Quarrel – and imagined the blackened, smoking figure lying in the melted sand. Soon he, too, would flame like a torch. The single scream would be wrung from him and his limbs would jerk into the dancing pose of burned bodies. Then it would be Honey’s turn. Christ, what had he led them into! Why had he been so insane as to take on this man with his devastating armoury. Why hadn’t he been warned by the long finger that had pointed at him in Jamaica? Bond set his teeth. Hurry up, you bastards. Get it over.

      There came the twang of a loud-hailer. A voice howled metallically, ‘Come on out, Limey. And the doll. Quick, or you’ll fry in hell like your pal.’ To rub in the command, the bolt of flame spat briefly towards him. Bond stepped back from the searing heat. He felt the girl’s body against his back. She said hysterically, ‘I had to come. I had to come.’

      Bond said, ‘It’s all right, Honey. Keep behind me.’

      He had made up his mind. There was no alternative. Even if death was to come later it couldn’t be worse than this kind of death. Bond reached for the girl’s hand and drew her after him out on to the sand.

      The voice howled. ‘Stop there. Good boy. And drop the pea-shooter. No tricks or the crabs’ll be getting a cooked breakfast.’

      Bond dropped his gun. So much for the Smith & Wesson. The Beretta would have been just as good against this thing. The girl whimpered. Bond squeezed her hand. ‘Stick it, Honey,’ he said. ‘We’ll get out of this somehow.’ Bond sneered at himself for the lie.

      There was the clang of an iron door being opened. From the back of the dome a man dropped into the water and walked towards them. There was a gun in his hand. He kept out of the line of fire of the flamethrower. The fluttering blue flame lit up his sweating face. He was a Chinese negro, a big man, clad only in trousers. Something dangled from his left hand. When he came closer, Bond saw it was handcuffs.

      The man stopped a few yards away. He said, ‘Hold out your hands. Wrists together. Then walk towards me. You first, Limey. Slowly or you get an extra navel.’

      Bond did as he was told. When he was within sweat-smell of the man, the man put his gun between his teeth and reached out and snapped the handcuffs on Bond’s wrists. Bond looked into the face, gunmetal-coloured from the blue flames. It was a brutal, squinting face. It sneered at him. ‘Dumb bastard,’ said the man.

      Bond turned his back on the man and started walking away. He was going to see Quarrel’s body. He had to say goodbye to it. There was the roar of a gun. A bullet kicked up sand close to his feet. Bond stopped and turned slowly round. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take a look at the man you’ve just murdered. I’ll be back.’

      The man lowered his gun. He laughed harshly. ‘Okay. Enjoy yourself. Sorry we ain’t got a wreath. Come back quick or we give the doll a toastin’. Two minutes.’

      Bond walked on towards the smoking clump of bushes. He got there and looked down. His eyes and mouth winced. Yes,

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