Colonel Sun

       'De Graaf?'

       'He was there too when I went up to fetch Luisa here,' said the doctor stonily. 'So was the other Albanian girl. I don't know where Evgeny is. But you'd better get a move on, Bond. He and De Graaf are due down here in ten minutes to carry you out to the firing-point.'

       'Right. The other man - the Greek with the bandaged arm - where's he?'

       'Opposite your chief. Sedated to the eyes. No problem.'

       'Which of these people are armed?'

       'De Graaf always carries a gun in his right hip-pocket. I don't think Evgeny has anything. Von Richter I don't know about.'

       'Willi?'

       Lohmann hesitated oddly. 'Again I don't know,' he said. 'But you've no need to worry about him. He's out of the way.'

       'Maybe. Hadn't you better have a look at Sun?'

       'That second blow of yours must have finished him. But one can't be too careful, I agree.' Lohmann knelt down by the motionless form of the Chinese. After a moment he said: 'He's still alive - theoretically. He'll never move again. What do you want to do? Do you feel like finishing him? I can show you a certain spot.'

       Bond had the knife in his hand. He glanced down at it and shuddered. 'No. We'll leave him. I'll be off, then. Look after the girl. I'll be back.'

       'Yes. All right. I'll bolt us in. Good luck.'

       There was nothing friendly to be said to the man who, until five minutes ago, had played an indispensable part in Sun's monstrous conspiracy, so Bond said nothing. But, short of time though he was, he could not pass by the girl who had saved his life at such dreadful risk. He put a hand on the slumped shoulder and she looked up, her face still dull with shock, but no longer weeping.

       'Thank you, Luisa,' said Bond gently. 'What made you do it?'

       'He...' - she pointed without looking - 'kill me. You... help...' Her gesture, oddly touching, apologized for her bad English.

       Bond kissed her cold cheek, then made for the ladder. There was a bad moment when he pushed at the trap-door and it failed to budge. If some heavy object had been moved on top of it he was finished before he started. Then he remembered what Sun had said about piling it with rugs and such to muffle sound. He pushed harder; it began to yield. The effort brought a surge of pain, but the pain was beginning to be different. Without exactly decreasing, it seemed to matter less.

       The kitchen was empty. Its window showed a rocky slope beginning to turn the colour of elephant-hide. If Lohmann had been accurate, there were perhaps twenty minutes to go before the bombardment. Enough. If no snags developed. And provided he could be out of this area before De Graaf and Evgeny converged on it to collect him.

       The passage outside the kitchen was also empty and unlit, though the hall at its farther end was illuminated. Knife in hand, Bond crept along to the corner and peered round.

       Evgeny was standing with his hands on his hips in the open doorway at the side of the house. His back was turned almost squarely to Bond as, presumably, he watched or stood ready to assist von Richter at the firing-point. Off his guard the Russian might be, but the chances of disposing of him silently in this situation were too thin to be considered. Bond measured with his eye the distance from his corner to the foot of the staircase. Eighteen paces. Say twenty.

       Bond had taken three paces into the brightly-lit hall when he saw Evgeny glance at his watch. He was back in the passage before the man could have read the time. The hand went back on to the hip. Bond walked quickly across the hall to the stairs.

       A single small bulb burned on the deserted landing. Bond unhesitatingly turned right and halted at the last door but one. The bolts were easy. The door made no noise. The sleeper's breathing was a guide. Bond's left hand went across the mouth while his right stayed ready with the knife; there was still just a possibility.... He whispered urgently into the ear. 'Niko. Niko, it's James. James Bond.'

       There had been a jerk and a grunt and a momentary struggle, then relaxation. Bond cautiously withdrew his hand an inch.

       'James,' the familiar voice whispered back. 'I'm afraid they got me. As you understand.'

       'How do you feel?'

       'Bloody awful headache and very sleepy.'

       'I've brought you something that'll take care of the drowsiness at least. An injection. Give me your arm.' Bond went rapidly on as he brought out the hypodermic. 'The Chinese gentleman is out of action. There are two others in the house we must deal with separately. The first one's in a bedroom on the other side of this floor.'

       Litsas winced as the needle went in. 'You would be a very bad doctor, James. Go on.'

       'He's expecting to be called soon. I'll knock. When he comes out, as I hope to God he does, your job is to see he doesn't call out; if he does, we're cooked. Then I'll deal with him.'

       'What have you got?'

       'A knife. Nothing for you at the moment. Now in the room with him there's Ariadne and an Albanian girl. Some sort of rape-cum-orgy seems to have been going on. Never mind that for now. We've got to keep the Albanian girl quiet. That may be tricky. We'll have to see how it goes.'

       'All right,' said Litsas shortly.

       'Has that stuff made any difference yet?'

       'A bit. Moving about will perhaps help. I'm ready.'

       They sidled out along the passage to the stairhead. Bond looked down and saw nobody, listened and heard nothing. At the door mentioned by Lohmann they took up positions close to the wall on each side. Bond knocked gently.

       'All right, who is it?' called a man's sleepy voice.

       'Lohmann,' said Bond in a grunt.

       The length of the ensuing silence made him bite his lip. Then, 'Hold on, I'm coming.'

       Within, a bed-spring twanged. The heel of a shoe scraped the floor. A female voice muttered something indistinguishable. The man yawned deeply. There was silence for half a minute. Then footfalls approached the door, a key turned in the lock, light flooded into the passage and De Graaf, buttoning his shirt, marched confidently out.

       Bond just had time to notice the deep parallel scratches on the gunman's left cheek before Litsas grabbed him and clapped a large hand over his mouth. Bond stepped forward and looked into the dilated eyes. 'This is for the Hammonds,' he hissed, and drove the knife in. De Graaf's body gave one great throe, as if he had touched a live terminal, then went totally limp. Bond turned aside at once and stepped into the room.

       Ariadne, under a thin coverlet on the floor, jerked to a sitting position and stared at him, but Bond's attention was all on the swarthy blonde in the bed. She too had sat up, showing herself to be naked to the waist at least. Bond hardly saw. He gazed into her bewildered dark eyes and brought his bloodstained knife forward as he approached.

       'If you make a sound I'll kill you,' he told her.

       'Not... no, I stay quiet.' The hand she held out palm foremost was trembling. With the other she pulled the sheet over her breasts.

       Bond stood near her at the head of the bed. Ariadne, wearing brassière and panties, got up and came over to him. Their hands touched, then gripped.

       'Are you all right?' she asked. 'Your voice sounds funny.'

       'I'm all right.' There were a thousand things he longed to say and he could not get any of them said. 'What about you?'

       'I don't mind anything now you're here. We must gag this bitch, I suppose. If it were my decision I'd shut her up for always. How are you, Niko? I thought you were dead.'