She looked at him. «What are you doing?»
He took her hand again. «Nothing.»
They were getting near the exit. Bond peered through the slits in his mask. Yes, by God! Two of the thugs were standing beside the ticket man watching the throng with deadly concentration. On the far side of the road stood the black Mercedes, petrol vapour curling up from its exhaust. No escape. There was only bluff. Bond put his arm round Tracy’s neck and whispered, «Kiss me all the way past the ticket-table. They’re there, but I think we can make it.»
She flung an arm over his shoulder and drew him to her. «How did you know that that’s what I’ve been waiting for?» Her lips crushed down sideways on his and, in a tide of laughing, singing people, they were through and on the street.
They turned, still linked, down the road. Yes! There was the darling little white car!
And then the horn on the Mercedes began sounding urgently. Bond’s gait, or perhaps his old-fashioned ski-trousers, had given him away to the man in the car!
«Quick, darling!» said Bond urgently.
The girl threw herself in under the wheel, pressed the starter and the car was moving as Bond scrambled in through the opposite door. Bond looked back. Through the rear window he could see the two men standing in the road. They would not shoot with so many witnesses about. Now they ran to the Mercedes. Thank God it was pointing up the hill towards St Moritz! And then Tracy had done a controlled skid round the S bend in the village and they were on the main road that Bond had staggered down half an hour before.
It would be five minutes at least before the Mercedes could turn and get after them. The girl was going like hell, but there was traffic on the road – tinkling sleighs full of fur-wrapped merrymakers on their way back to Pontresina, an occasional car, its snow-chains rattling. She drove on her brakes and her horn, the same triple wind-horn that sounded the high discord Bond remembered so well. Bond said, «You’re an angel, Tracy. But take it easy. We don’t want to end up in the ditch.»
The girl glanced sideways at him and laughed with pleasure. «That sounds as if you were feeling better. But I cannot see you. Now you can take off that silly mask and my parka. In a minute the heat will come on and you will be roasted. And I would like to see you as I remember you. But you are pleased with me?»
Life was beginning to come back into Bond. It was so wonderful to be in this little car with this marvellous girl. The memory of the dreadful mountain, of all that he had been through, was receding. Now there was hope again, after so much dread and despair. He could feel the tensions uncoiling in his stomach. He said, «I’ll tell you if I’m pleased when we get to Zurich. Can you make it? It’s a hell of a way to spend Christmas.» He wound down the window and threw the domino-mask out, stripped off the parka and draped it over her shoulders. The big sign for the main road down into the valley came up. He said, «Left here, Tracy. Filisur and then Coire.»
She took the turning, in Bond’s estimation, dangerously fast. She went into a skid that Bond swore was going to be uncontrolled. But, even on the black ice of the road, she got out of it and motored blithely on. Bond said, «For God’s sake, Tracy! How in hell did you manage that? You haven’t even got chains on.»
She laughed, pleased at the awe in his voice. «Dunlop Rally studs on all the tyres. They’re only supposed to be for Rally drivers, but I managed to wangle a set out of them. Don’t worry. Just sit back and enjoy the drive.»
There was something entirely new in the girl’s voice, a lilt and happiness that had certainly not been there at Royale.
Bond turned and looked at her carefully for the first time. Yes, she was somehow a new woman, radiating health and a kind of inner glow.– The tumbled fair hair glittered with vitality and the half-open, beautiful lips seemed always to be on the verge of a smile.
«Satisfied?»
«You look absolutely wonderful. But now for God’s sake tell me how you happened to be at Samaden. It was a bloody miracle. It saved my life.»
«All right. But then you tell. I’ve never seen a man look so dead on his feet. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought you must be plastered.» She gave him a quick glance. «You still look pretty bad. Here» – she leant forward to the dashboard – «I’ll switch on the blower. Get you properly warmed up.» She paused. «Well, my bit of the story’s quite simple really. Papa rang me up one day from Marseilles to find out how I was. He asked if I had seen you and seemed very annoyed when he heard I hadn’t. He practically ordered me to go and find you.» She glanced at him. «He’s quite taken to you, you know. Anyway he said he had found out the address of a certain man you were looking for. He said he was sure that by now you would have found out that address too. He said that, knowing you, I would find you somewhere close to this address. It was the Piz Gloria Club. He told me if I found you to tell you to watch your step, to look after yourself.» She laughed. «How right he was! Well, so I left Davos, which had really put me on my feet again, like you said it would, and I came up to Samaden the day before yesterday. The Seilbahn wasn’t running yesterday, so I was going to come up today to look for you. It was all as simple as that. Now you tell.»
They had been keeping up a good speed down the sloping, winding road into the valley. Bond turned to look through the rear window. He swore under his breath. Perhaps a mile behind, twin lights were coming after them. The girl said, «I know. I’ve been watching in the mirror. I’m afraid they’re gaining a little. Must be a good driver who knows the road. Probably got snow-chains. But I think I can hold them. Now go on. What have you been up to?»
Bond gave her a garbled version. There was a big gangster up the mountain, living under a false name. He was wanted by the police in England. Bond was vaguely connected with the police, with the Ministry of Defence. (She snorted, «Don’t try and fool me. I know you’re in the Secret Service. Papa told me so.» Bond said curtly, «Well, Papa’s talking through his hat.» She laughed knowingly.) Anyway, Bond continued, he had been sent out to make sure this was the man they wanted. He had found out that he was. But the man had become suspicious of Bond and Bond had had to get out quickly. He gave her a graphic account of the moonlit nightmare of the mountain, of the avalanche, of the man who had been killed by the train, of how he had got to Samaden, dead beat, and had tried to hide in the crowd on the skating-rink. «And then,» he ended lamely, «you turned up like a beautiful angel on skates, and here we are.»
She thought the story over for a minute. Then she said calmly, «And now, my darling James, just tell me how many of them you killed. And tell me the truth.»
«Why?»
«I’m just curious.»
«You promise to keep this between you and me?»
She said enigmatically, «Of course. Everything’s between you and me from now on.»
«Well, there was the main guard at the so-called Club. That had to be done or I’d be dead myself by now. Then I suppose one got caught by the avalanche. Then, at the bottom, one of them shot at me and I had to spear him with my ski-stick – self-defence. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. And then there was the man killed by the train. He’d fired six shots at me. And anyway it was his own fault. Let’s say three and a half got themselves killed one way or another.»