They both knew well enough that their lives depended on each other. They also knew that, within the next few hours, they might die together.
Now, as they skimmed the deep green foliage, their heads and eyes were in constant movement as they searched for something that did not seem to be there even though Natalya insisted it was certainly very close to where they now flew.
He caught a flicker of light some ten miles further on, and headed towards it. As they drew closer he was sure the light was that of the sun reflecting on water.
Finally there, in the middle of the jungle, was a natural bowl, a huge inland lake, its water like glass, and so deep that you could see no trace of the bottom, except at its very edges where the water lapped against a thin strip of sand, before the ground rose softly into hills of vegetation.
He turned the Piper Archer as they reached the far side of the perfect circle of water, knowing it was inconceivable that this could be nature’s doing. The lake was too flawless, too geometric, to be anything but man-made.
He banked the aircraft within the bowl, one wing very low, almost reaching a rate five turn as he swung through three hundred and sixty degrees and then turned to follow through in the opposite direction.
The little plane lifted over the jungle once more.
“There’s nothing there. Absolutely nothing,’ Natalya said.
“Let’s give it another go. I’ll take her down very close to the drink. Keep your eyes peeled.” He extended the aircraft’s flaps to allow himself to fly safely at a slower speed, just over the water; curving around the complete circle, looking down on the wingtip which seemed to be only a foot or so above the smooth blue-green tint of the lake.
Still nothing. Maybe Wade was right, Bond thought.
He put on power, then retracted the flaps and climbed, crossing the lake diagonally, then, after gaining height, he pulled her round again and began another run.
“James! Look out! James!” she screamed.
He saw it at exactly the same moment as she shouted.
It came straight up from the deep water, breaking the placid surface with hardly a ripple, and his immediate reaction was that it was a largish fish. Now he pushed the yoke hard to the left, his feet firmly on the rudder pedals to keep the nose up in a desperate attempt to avoid what he thought was probably a 140mm rocket, and where there was one of those, more could easily follow as they usually came in distinctive seventeen rocket packs.
He had never yet heard of a launch of this type of rocket from underwater, but it would not be difficult, and the aircraft was probably being targeted electronically by computer even as he banked right, turning the Archer onto an opposite track as the first rocket passed harmlessly to their left.
“We’ve got to get out of here,’ he shouted, slewing the plane in the other direction. Wrong! Another rocket came hurtling from the water as he turned. It did not explode, but sheared off over half the span of his port wing.
The Piper was too low and everything seemed to happen in slow motion once more. Bond over-corrected and then went out of control.
He had the elevator, rudder, stabiliser and only one aileron. It was a matter of pure luck that, as he tried to correct again and bring the nose up, the belly of the aircraft struck the water.
Hitting water in any aircraft is as good as slamming into a brick wall. They went from around seventy-eight knots to zero in a fraction of a second. He felt the underside of the plane being torn away - a ragged and horrific cracking noise; then the nose went down, the prop churning water.
The shore line came up to meet them and what was left of the fuselage slid up onto the sand.
Natalya had screamed when they were hit. Now, as they rose up the strip of sand, Bond threw one arm across her and his other forearm over his own face.
Then the fire gushed from the engine.
He did not recall hauling her from the wreckage, but the next he knew was that he had carried her into the jungle foliage and had put her down gently in a clearing.
Her head lolled back, then her eyelids fluttered.
He spoke her name, urgently, several times, and finally she was awake. “You OK?”
“I think someone hit me with a hammer.” She raised herself from the ground and began to check that she could walk and move her limbs. Bond did the same. “I think we’re both in one piece.” He flexed his aching shoulders.
“Or at least the pieces appear to be joined in the right places.” She nodded and then lost balance again, collapsing in a heap.
Bond had been vaguely aware of something else going on in the background, but was still disoriented. Now he realised that a helicopter was hovering low over the clearing, a rope snaking from it and a figure rappelling down very quickly.
At first he thought Jack Wade had been very quick off the mark in sending help. It was not until he moved towards the rope that he knew he had made a grave mistake.
A boot lashed out and caught him in the face as Xenia Onatopp reached the end of the rope to which she was secured. He managed to get halfway to his feet before she lashed out at him again. Dressed in a tight combat suit with the omnipresent machine pistol strapped to her back, Xenia was on him like a wild animal, her legs closing around his chest, knocking the wind from him and clutching, causing great stabs of pain.
“This time, Mr. Bond, the pleasure will be all mine.” His reply “Don’t be so bloody melodramatic, Onatopp.” - was almost certainly not comprehensible as she scissored his ribs, bearing down on him.
This time she had him. He could feel the crushing, and thought the bones would crack at any minute as he fought for breath.
She started to scream orgasmically -“Oh, yes Yes Yes…” and only stopped as an arm slid around her neck. Natalya was on her back trying to pull her from Bond, but Xenia threw her off with one arm, shouting, “Wait for your turn. You’re next.” She had lost some of her grip in dealing with Natalya; enough for Bond to reach up behind her and get a hand around the machine pistol. His thumb hit the safety catch and he squeezed the trigger.
He had no particular purpose, but the weapon sent a spray of bullets straight up, tearing into the side of the helicopter. The pilot was obviously caught off guard for he opened up the throttle and the machine moved rapidly forward, ascending as it did so.
The line to which Xenia was secured went taut, pulling her away from Bond, who flicked her into a spin as she was lifted, at speed, across the clearing, heading straight for a tangle of tree limbs, where she was suddenly trapped in a V formation of thick branches.
Above, the helicopter was dragged backwards by the anchor of Xenia’s body caught in the tree. The pilot tried to descend and regain control, but the tightness of the rope pulled the machine sideways, so that he suddenly lost it altogether. The machine tipped to one side at a dangerous angle, rapidly losing height and dropping into the trees.
There was a terrible rending, then the fireball leaped up into the air.
Natalya was beside Bond as he got to his feet, rubbing at his chest, still in pain and knowing that he had been only seconds from death. He looked at Natalya, and then at Xenia’s body, crushed, with her face contorted horribly in agony.
“She always did enjoy a good squeeze,’ he said.
Far below the lake, in a complex similar to the one at Severnaya, Boris sat in front of a bank of monitors, his eyes riveted to one of the screens, his hands obsessively playing with a pen.
This facility, unlike Severnaya, was built in three great tiers, walkways running around each section, screens and electronics everywhere.