"I vaguely know the face, but can't put a name to him. Nothing for us to worry about."
In spite of the last remark, Bond quickly gave the trio a thorough once-over. The bearded man was short and stocky, probably in his late forties, with a fine weather-beaten face. The woman could be any age between eighteen and thirty-five, as she had one of those faces with a scrubbed look, dark hair that hung lank around her shoulders, so that it regularly had to be pushed back with a thin hand. The final member of the party was clean-shaven, earnest-looking, with his hair beginning to recede. He had the manner of an academic, the shoulders slightly stooped, his eyes bright behind a pair of wire-framed glasses.
Felix was in top form and kept the three of them going with a fund of stories, all of which were supposed to be true, most of them having happened to him personally. Bond had forgotten what a good raconteur and companion his old friend could be, and they relaxed over dinner, which, as was his way, Felix ordered for them. Tonight he obviously realized that they would not want anything heavy after the long journey, so they ate simply – smoked salmon and Salade Niçoise, followed by an unforgettable chocolate mousse.
It was Leiter who suggested they return to the bar for coffee and what he called "a little firewater to make us sleep."
The trio was still there, and he caught the bearded man's eye as they walked in. Immediately, Felix being Felix, addressed him. "I'm only an old Texas cowhand, but I seen you somewhere, sir. You're kinda famous for something and darned if I can put my finger on what exactly."
The bearded man's face broke into a wide, almost youthful grin. "You must have been reading some very rare magazines, sir. I'm only known in my field. The name's Rex Rexinus."
"I'm Felix Leiter, and you're a marine biologist, right?"
"Absolutely right."
"See," Felix turned to his friends, "I told you this guy was famous. You wrote a book about deep-ocean fish."
"If you've worked your way through that, then you're very well read, and I doubt if you're really an old cowhand."
"Maybe I stretched the point with that. I been in and out of all kinds of business. But it's been great meeting you, Dr. Rexinus."
"Please, join us." Rexinus stood and was already pulling up chairs.
"Well, you've got to meet my friends here. This is…"
"James Busby, and this is my wife, Vic."
"Yeah." Felix was putting on his most outrageous drawl. "James and Vic."
"And my friends." Rexinus leaned over and shook hands. "This is Vesta Motley, and my other friend here is Professor Afton Fritz."
"Not Professor Fritz, the biochemist?"
"You're a walking encyclopedia, Mr. Leiter. Yes, I'm a biochemist, as, indeed, is Ms. Motley – among other things." Fritz had a slightly high-pitched voice that somehow did not go with his face, while Vesta Motley's "How do you do?" was very English.
They ordered drinks and there were a few moments of small talk until Felix, still playing the Texan abroad, asked, "What in heaven's name brings a couple of biochemists and a marine biologist of renown to San Juan?"
"Good question, Felix." Rexinus put his head back and laughed. "We thought we were onto something good. About a year ago the three of us had an idea which we felt would benefit the world, but we didn't have the money to carry through our research."
"Ain't that always the way?"
"Usually, yes. But suddenly we found a benefactor, though now we're at a loss what to do. We have the most magnificent floating laboratory out there in the harbor, and we've found that all three of us were wrong." He punctuated this with another laugh. "You see we were only half right in our theory, which is about as good as being completely wrong. Now we're in even deeper water because the very generous and rich man who backed the entire venture has gone and got himself killed in a car accident, and we can't get a peep out of his company offices in London."
"And who's the filthy-rich benefactor?" Bond stirred in his chair.
"Man called Tarn." Rexinus grunted. "Sir Max Tarn. You may have heard of him."
"Vaguely," said Flicka a shade too quickly.
"I mean, I'm sorry for the fellow, getting killed, but it makes life easier for us in some ways."
"Why would that be?" Bond asked stiffly, as though just getting over a shot of Novocain.
"Well." It was Vesta Motley who answered him. "Sir Max is one of these people who demand results. He gave us a year, and – just before his death – he cabled us to say he would be coming here to San Juan to see a demonstration of the thing we cannot demonstrate."
"A hard taskmaster," Leiter muttered.
"Oh, the hardest," Ms. Motley replied, with wise nods from her two colleagues. "But you'll have to come aboard and see our laboratory, Mare Nostrum. It's an incredible ship. Quite the last word."
Last word is probably right, Bond considered. Aloud, he said, "We'd love to. How about tomorrow night?"
20 – Things Ancient and Modern
"An old Texas cowhand," Bond all but sneered. "Old Texas cowhand, my backside."
"Don't be horrible to Felix, now, James. He did get us a lot of information," Flicka chided.
It was late afternoon, and the day had provided more information, none of it comforting. Now they stood on the topmost platform of El Morro, looking out across the harbor.
The banter between Bond and his old friend had begun early that morning when they left the hotel to drive across the island to the town of Ponce. Felix, it appeared, had thought of everything, including hiring the car which he could drive with the advanced prosthetics he now used, but Bond took over with both Flicka and Felix as navigators. Not that there was much navigation to do, for the roads were straightforward, taking them across the breadth of the island from the Atlantic to the Caribbean sides, touching the coastal towns of Salinas and Santa Isabel.
"You're quite a well-read little devil for an American," Bond began.
"It's all the time I've had lying in hospital beds and hippety-hopping around."
"Yes, but to recognize a couple of obscure scientists was quite a feat."
"Not really. I already knew who they were."
"You did?"
"I've been here for a couple of days, and those three are almost permanent fixtures in the hotel bar. A word here and a word there: you know how we glean information, James. At least you used to know."
"Fraud," Bond muttered.
"No, just checking out the opposition. Those three are in some danger, but I don't need to tell you that; you've been up against their boss in person. Don't you think we should warn them?"
"They're innocents as far as Tarn's concerned. Won't know what hit them when he does arrive. Yes, I had thought of giving them most of the information tonight. I'll suggest that they whiz their floating lab off to one of the other islands, or set a course for Florida.
"You've spent your time checking up on the trio of scientists, Felix. What are they up to on Max Tarn's behalf?"
"What are they doing? Well, it's difficult to explain. In fact, even if they do explain the scientific bits to us, we'll probably be none the wiser. I gather it's something to do with an antipollution device. That's the talk in the local bars and bistros. They're trying to produce a substance that will nullify the effects of oil spills."
"That would be handy."
"It's only talk, but I've seen Mare Nostrum from a distance. She has these pipes, like mortars, set at angles all around her outer deck. The locals say that they would spray a kind of foam on oil spills – rather like dowsing a fire. The difference is that this foam would suck up the oil and purify the water at the same time, but you heard what they said last night. The thing doesn't work."
"Tarn's not going to like that. When he puts money into something, he always counts on a return. Like as not, he'll expect the thing to work."