if.thunderball-第3章

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Bond　opened　it　and　ascertained　that　the　initials　stood　for　〃Member：　British　Naturopathic　Association。〃　He　turned　off　the　central　heating　and　opened　the　windows　wide。　The　herb　garden；　row　upon　row　of　small　nameless　plants　round　a　central　sundial；　smiled　up　at　him。　Bond　unpacked　his　things　and　sat　down　in　the　single　armchair　and　read　about　eliminating　the　waste　products　from　his　body。　He　learned　a　great　deal　about　foods　he　had　never　heard　of；　such　as　Potassium　Broth；　Nut　Mince；　and　the　mysteriously　named　Unmalted　Slippery　Elm。　He　had　got　as　far　as　the　chapter　on　massage　and　was　reflecting　on　the　injunction　that　this　art　should　be　divided　into　Effleurage；　Stroking；　Friction；　Kneading；　Petrissage；　Tapotement；　and　Vibration；　when　the　telephone　rang。　A　girl's　voice　said　that　Mr。　Wain　would　be　glad　to　see　him　in　Consulting　Room　A　in　five　minutes。
　
　Mr。　Joshua　Wain　had　a　firm；　dry　handshake　and　a　resonant；　encouraging　voice。　He　had　a　lot　of　bushy　gray　hair　above　an　unlined　brow；　soft；　clear　brown　eyes；　and　a　sincere　and　Christian　smile。　He　appeared　to　be　genuinely　pleased　to　see　Bond　and　to　be　interested　in　him。　He　wore　a　very　clean　smocklike　coat　with　short　sleeves　from　which　strong　hairy　arms　hung　relaxed。　Below　were　rather　incongruous　pin…stripe　trousers。　He　wore　sandals　over　socks　of　conservative　gray　and　when　he　moved　across　the　consulting　room　his　stride　was　a　springy　lope。
　
　Mr。　Wain　asked　Bond　to　remove　all　his　clothes　except　his　shorts。　When　he　saw　the　many　scars　he　said　politely；　〃Dear　me；　you　do　seem　to　have　been　in　the　wars；　Mr。　Bond。〃
　
　Bond　said　indifferently；　〃Near　miss。　During　the　war。〃
　
　〃Really！　War　between　peoples　is　a　terrible　thing。　Now；　just　breathe　in　deeply；　please。〃　Mr。　Wain　listened　at　Bond's　back　and　chest；　took　his　blood　pressure；　weighed　him　and　recorded　his　height；　and　then；　after　asking　him　to　lie　face　down　on　a　surgical　couch；　handled　his　joints　and　vertebrae　with　soft；　probing　fingers。
　
　While　Bond　replaced　his　clothes；　Mr。　Wain　wrote　busily　at　his　desk。　Then　he　sat　back。　〃Well；　Mr。　Bond；　nothing　much　to　worry　about　here；　I　think。　Blood　pressure　a　little　high；　slight　osteopathic　lesions　in　the　upper　vertebrae…they'll　probably　be　causing　your　tension　headaches；　by　the　way…and　some　right　sacroiliac　strain　with　the　right　ilium　slightly　displaced　backwards。　Due　to　a　bad　fall　some　time；　no　doubt。〃　Mr。　Wain　raised　his　eyebrows　for　confirmation。
　
　Bond　said；　〃Perhaps。〃　Inwardly　he　reflected　that　the　〃bad　fall〃　had　probably　been　when　he　had　had　to　jump　from　the　Arlberg　Express　after　Heinkel　and　his　friends　had　caught　up　with　him　around　the　time　of　the　Hungarian　uprising　in　1956。
　
　〃Well；　now。〃　Mr。　Wain　drew　a　printed　form　toward　him　and　thoughtfully　ticked　off　items　on　a　list。　〃Strict　dieting　for　one　week　to　eliminate　the　toxins　in　the　blood　stream。　Massage　to　tone　you　up；　irrigation；　hot　and　cold　sitz　baths；　osteopathic　treatment；　and　a　short　course　of　traction　to　get　rid　of　the　lesions。　That　should　put　you　right。　And　plete　rest；　of　course。　Just　take　it　easy；　Mr。　Bond。　You're　a　civil　servant；　I　understand。　Do　you　good　to　get　away　from　all　that　worrying　paper　work　for　a　while。〃　Mr。　Wain　got　up　and　handed　the　printed　form　to　Bond。　〃Treatment　rooms　in　half　an　hour；　Mr。　Bond。　No　harm　in　starting　right　away。〃
　
　〃Thank　you。〃　Bond　took　the　form　and　glanced　at　it。　〃What's　traction；　by　the　way？〃
　
　〃A　mechanical　device　for　stretching　the　spine。　Very　beneficial。〃　Mr。　Wain　smiled　indulgently。　〃Don't　be　worried　by　what　some　of　the　other　patients　tell　you　about　it。　They　call　it　‘The　Rack。'　You　know　what　wags　some　people　are。〃
　
　〃Yes。〃
　
　Bond　walked　out　and　along　the　white…painted　corridor。　People　were　sitting　about；　reading　or　talking　in　soft　tones　in　the　public　rooms。　They　were　all　elderly；　middle…class　people；　mostly　women；　many　of　whom　wore　unattractive　quilted　dressing　gowns。　The　warm；　close　air　and　the　frumpish　women　gave　Bond　claustrophobia。　He　walked　through　the　hall　to　the　main　door　and　let　himself　out　into　the　wonderful　fresh　air。
　
　Bond　walked　thoughtfully　down　the　trim　narrow　drive　and　smelled　the　musty　smell　of　the　laurels　and　the　laburnums。　Could　he　stand　it？　Was　there　any　way　out　of　this　hell…hole　short　of　resigning　from　the　Service？　Deep　in　thought；　he　almost　collided　with　a　girl　in　white　who　came　hurrying　round　a　sharp　bend　in　the　thickly　hedged　drive。　At　the　same　instant　as　she　swerved　out　of　his　path　and　flashed　him　an　amused　smile；　a　mauve　Bentley；　taking　the　corner　too　fast；　was　on　top　of　her。　At　one　moment　she　was　almost　under　its　wheels；　at　the　next；　Bond；　with　one　swift　step；　had　gathered　her　up　by　the　waist　and；　executing　a　passable　Veronica；　with　a　sharp　swivel　of　his　hips　had　picked　her　body　literally　off　the　hood　of　the　car。　He　put　the　girl　down　as　the　Bentley　dry…skidded　to　a　stop　in　the　gravel。　His　right　hand　held　the　memory　of　one　beautiful　breast。　The　girl　said；　〃Oh！〃　and　looked　up　into　his　eyes　with　an　expression　of　flurried　astonishment。　Then　she　took　in　what　had　happened　and　said　breathlessly；　〃Oh；　thank　you。〃　She　turned　toward　the　car。
　
　A　man　had　climbed　unhurriedly　down　from　the　driving　seat。　He　said　calmly；　〃I　am　so　sorry。　Are　you　all　right？〃　Recognition　dawned　on　his　face。　He　said　silkily；　〃Why；　if　it　isn't　my　friend　Patricia。　How　are　you；　Pat？　All　ready　for　me？〃
　
　The　man　was　extremely　handsome…a　dark…bronzed　woman…killer　with　a　neat　mustache　above　the　sort　of　callous　mouth　women　kiss　in　their　dreams。　He　had　regular　features　that　suggested　Spanish　or　South　American　blood　and　bold；　hard　brown　eyes　that　turned　up　oddly；　or；　as　a　woman　would　put　it；　intriguingly；　at　the　corners。　He　was　an　athletic…looking　six　foot；　dressed　in　the　sort　of　casually　well…cut　beige　herring…bone　tweed　that　suggests　Anderson　and　Sheppard。　He　wore　a　white　silk　shirt　and　a　dark　red　polka…dot　tie；　and　the　soft　dark　brown　V…necked　sweater　looked　like　vicuna。　Bond　summed　him　up　as　a　good…looking　bastard　who　got　all　the　women　he　wanted　and　probably　lived　on　them…and　lived　well。
　
　The　girl　had　recovered　her　poise。　She　said　severely；　〃You　really　ought　to　be　more　careful；　Count　Lippe。　You　know　there　are　always　patients　and　staff　walking　down　this　drive。　If　it　hadn't　been　for　this　gentleman〃…she　smiled　at　Bond…〃you'd　have　run　me　over。　After　all；　there　is　a　big　sign　asking　drivers　to　take　care。〃
　
　〃I　am　so　sorry；　my　dear。　I　was　hurrying。　I　am　late　for　my　appointment　with　the　good　Mr。　Wain。　I　am　as　usual　in　need　of　decarbonization…this　time　after　two　weeks　in　Paris。〃　He　turned　to　Bond。　He　said　with　a　hint　of　condescension；　〃Thank　you；　my　dear　sir。　You　have　quick　reactions。　And　now；　if　you　will　forgive　me…〃　He　raised　a　hand；　got　back　into　the　Bentley；　and　purred　off　up　the　drive。
　
　The　girl　said；　〃Now　I　really　must　hurry。　I'm　terribly　late。〃　Together　they　turned　and　walked　after　the　Bentley。
　
　Bond　said；　examining　her；　〃Do　you　work　here？〃　She　said　that　she　did。　She　had　been　at　Shrublands　for　three　years。　She　liked　it。　And　how　long　was　he　staying？　The　small…talk　continued。
　
　She　was　an　athletic…looking　girl　whom　Bond　would　have　casually　associated　with　tennis；　or　skating；　or　show…jumping。　She　had　the　sort　of　firm；　pact　figure　that　always　attracted　him　and　a　fresh　open…air　type　of　prettiness　that　would　have　been　monplace　but　for　a　wide；　rather　passionate　mouth　and　a　hint　of　authority　that　would　be　a　challenge　to　men。　She　was　dressed　in　a　feminine　version　of　the　white　smock　worn　by　Mr。　Wain；　and　it　was　clear　from　the　undisguised　curves　of　her　breasts　and　hips　that　she　had　little　on　underneath　it。　Bond　asked　her　if　she　didn't　get　bored。　What　did　she　do　with　her　time　off？
　
　She　acknowledged　the　gambit　with　a　smile　and　a　quick　glance　of　appraisal。　〃I've　got　one　of　those　bubble　cars。　I　get　about　the　country　quite　a　lot。　And　there　are　wonderful　walks。　And　one's　always　seeing　new　people　here。　Some　of　them　are　very　interesting。　That　man　in　the　car；　Count　Lippe。　He　es　here　every　year。　He　tells　me　fascinating　things　about　the　Far　East…China　and　so　on。　He's　got　some　sort　of　a　business　in　a　place　called　Macao。　It's　near　Hong　Kong；　isn't　it？〃
　
　〃Yes；　that's　right。〃　So　those　turned…up　eyes　were　a　dash　of　Chinaman。　It　would　be　interesting　to　know　his　background。　Probably　Portuguese　blood　if　he　came　from　Macao。
　
　They　had　reached　the　entrance。　Inside　the　warm　hall　the　girl　said；　〃Well；　I　must　run。　Thank　you　again。〃　She　gave　him　a　smile　that；　for　the　benefit　of　the　watching　receptionist；　was　entirely　neutral。　〃I　hope　you　enjoy　your　stay。〃　She　hurried　off　toward　the　treatment　rooms。　Bond　followed；　his　eyes　on　the　taut　swell　of　her　hips。　He　glanced　at　his　watch　and　also　went　down　the　stairs　and　into　a　spotlessly　white　basement　that　smelled　faintly　of　olive　oil　and　an　Aerosol　disinfectant。
　
　Beyond　a　door　marked　〃　Gentlemen's　Treatment　〃　he　was　taken　in　hand　by　an　indiarubbery　masseur　in　trousers　and　singlet。　Bond　undressed　and　with　a　towel　round　his　waist　followed　the　man　down　a　long　room　divided　into　partments　by　plastic　curtains。　In　the　first　partment；　side　by　side；　two　elderly　men　lay；　the　perspiration　pouring　down　their　strawberry　faces；　in　electric　blanket…baths。　In　the　next　were　two　massage　tables。　On　one；　the　pale；　dimpled　body　of　a　youngish　but　very　fat　man　wobbled　obscenely　beneath　the　pummeling　of　his　masseur。　Bond；　his　mind　recoiling　from　it　all；　took　off　his　towel　and　lay　down　on　his　face　and　surrendered　himself　to　the　toughest　deep　massage　he　had　ever　experienced。
　
　Vaguely；　against　the　jangling　of　his　nerves　and　the　aching　of　muscles　and　tendons；　he　heard　the　fat　man　heave　himself　off　his　table　and；　moments　later；　another　patient　take　his　place。　He　heard　the　man's　masseur　say；　〃I'm　afraid　we'll　have　to　have　the　wristwatch　off；　sir。〃　The　urbane；　silky　voice　that　Bond　at　once　recognized　said　with　authority；　〃Nonsense；　my　dear　fellow。　I　e　here　every　year　and　I've　been　allowed　to　keep　it　on　before。　I'd　rather　keep　it　on；　if　you　don't　mind。〃
　
　〃Sorry；　sir。〃　The　masseur's　voice　was　politely　firm。　〃You　must　have　had　someone　else　doing　the　treatment。　It　interferes　with　the　flow　of　blood　when　I　e　to　treat　the　arm　and　hand。　If　you　don't　mind；　sir。〃
　
　There　was　a　moment's　silence。　Bond　could　almost　feel　Count　Lippe　controlling　his　temper。　The　words；　when　they　came；　were　spat　out　with　what　seemed　to　Bond　ludicrous　violence。　〃Take　it　off　then。〃　The　〃Damn　you〃　didn't　have　to　be　uttered。　It　hung　in　the　air　at　the　end　of　the　sentence。
　
　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃　There　was　a　brief　pause　and　then　the　massage　began。
　
　The　small　incident　seemed　odd　to　Bond。　Obviously　one　had　to　take　off　one's　wristwatch　for　a　massage。　Why　had　the　man　wanted　to　keep　it　on？　It　seemed　very　childish。
　
　〃Turn　over；　please；　sir。〃
　
　Bond　obeyed。　Now　his　face　was　free　to　move。　He　glanced　casually　to　his　right。　Count　Lippe's　face　was　turned　away　from　him。　His　left　arm　hung　down　toward　the　floor。　Where　the　sunburn　ended；　there　was　a　bracelet　of　almost　white　flesh　at　the　wrist。　In　the　middle　of　the　circle　where　the　watch　had　been　there　was　a　sign　tattooed　on　the　skin。　It　looked　like　a　small　zigzag　crossed　by　two　vertical　strokes。　So　Count　Lippe　had　not　wanted　this　sign　to　be　seen！　It　would　be　amusing　to　ring　up　Records　and　see　if　they　had　a　line　on　what　so