iam fleming.for your eyes only-第4章

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　The　handler　scratched　his　head。　〃We　had　trouble　with　a　bit　of　game；　Monsieur。　There　was　a　hare　or　two。　A　couple　of　foxes'　earths。　We　had　quite　a　time　getting　them　away　from　a　clearing　near　the　Carrefour　Royal。　They　probably　still　smelled　the　gipsies。〃
　〃Oh。〃　Bond　was　only　mildly　interested。　〃Show　me。　Who　were　these　gipsies？〃
　The　handler　pointed　daintily　with　a　grimy　little　finger。　〃These　are　the　names　from　the　old　days。　Here　is　the　Etoile　Parfaite；　and　here；　where　the　killing　took　place；　is　the　Carrefour　des　Curieux。　And　here；　forming　the　bottom　of　the　triangle；　is　the　Carrefour　Royal。　It　makes；〃　he　added　dramatically；　〃a　cross　with　the　road　of　death。〃　He　took　a　pencil　out　of　his　pocket　and　made　a　dot　just　off　the　crossroads。　〃And　this　is　the　clearing；　Monsieur。　There　was　a　gipsy　caravan　there　for　most　of　the　winter。　They　left　last　month。　Cleaned　the　place　up　all　right；　but；　for　the　dogs；　their　scent　will　hang　about　there　for　months。〃
　Bond　thanked　him；　and　after　inspecting　and　admiring　the　dogs　and　making　some　small　talk　about　the　handler's　profession；　he　got　into　the　Peugeot　and　went　off　to　the　gendarmerie　in　St　Germain。　〃Yes；　certainly　they　had　known　the　gipsies。　Real　Romany…looking　fellows。　Hardly　spoke　a　word　of　French；　but　they　had　behaved　themselves。　There　had　been　no　plaints。　Six　men　and　two　women。　No。　No　one　had　seen　them　go。　One　morning　they　just　weren't　there　any　more。　Might　have　been　gone　a　week　for　all　one　knew。　They　had　chosen　an　isolated　spot。〃
　Bond　took　the　D98　through　the　forest。　When　the　great　autoroute　bridge　showed　up　a　quarter　of　a　mile　ahead　over　the　road；　Bond　accelerated　and　then　switched　off　the　engine　and　coasted　silently　until　he　came　to　the　Carrefour　Royal。　He　stopped　and　got　out　of　the　car　without　a　sound；　and；　feeling　rather　foolish；　softly　entered　the　forest　and　walked　with　great　circumspection　towards　where　the　clearing　would　be。　Twenty　yards　inside　the　trees　he　came　to　it。　He　stood　in　the　fringe　of　bushes　and　trees　and　examined　it　carefully。　Then　he　walked　in　and　went　over　it　from　end　to　end。
　The　clearing　was　about　as　big　as　two　tennis　courts　and　floored　in　thick　grass　and　moss。　There　was　one　large　patch　of　lilies　of　the　valley　and；　under　the　bordering　trees；　a　scattering　of　bluebells。　To　one　side　there　was　a　low　mound；　perhaps　a　tumulus；　pletely　surrounded　and　covered　with　brambles　and　brier　roses　now　thickly　in　bloom。　Bond　walked　round　this　and　gazed　in　among　the　roots；　but　there　was　nothing　to　see　except　the　earthy　shape　of　the　mound。
　Bond　took　one　last　look　round　and　then　went　to　the　corner　of　the　clearing　that　would　be　nearest　to　the　road。　Here　there　was　easy　access　through　the　trees。　Were　there　traces　of　a　path；　a　slight　flattening　of　the　leaves？　Not　more　than　would　have　been　left　by　the　gipsies　or　last　year's　picnickers。　On　the　edge　of　the　road　there　was　a　narrow　passage　between　two　trees。　Casually　Bond　bent　to　examine　the　trunks。　He　stiffened　and　dropped　to　a　crouch。　With　a　fingernail；　he　delicately　scraped　away　a　narrow　sliver　of　caked　mud。　It　hid　a　deep　scratch　in　the　tree…trunk。　He　caught　the　scraps　of　mud　in　his　free　hand。　He　now　spat　and　moistened　the　mud　and　carefully　filled　up　the　scratch　again。　There　were　three　camouflaged　scratches　on　one　tree　and　four　on　the　other。　Bond　walked　quickly　out　of　the　trees　on　to　the　road。　His　car　had　stopped　on　a　slight　slope　leading　down　under　the　autoroute　bridge。　Although　there　was　some　protection　from　the　boom　of　the　traffic　on　the　autoroute；　Bond　pushed　the　car；　jumped　in　and　only　engaged　the　gears　when　he　was　well　under　the　bridge。
　And　now　Bond　was　back　in　the　clearing；　above　it；　and　he　still　did　not　know　if　his　hunch　had　been　right。　It　had　been　M's　dictum　that　had　put　him　on　the　scent　…　if　it　was　a　scent　…　and　the　mention　of　the　gipsies。　〃It　was　the　gipsies　the　dogs　smelled　。　。　。　Most　of　the　winter　。　。　。　they　went　last　month。　No　plaints　。　。　。　One　morning　they　just　weren't　there　any　more。〃　The　invisible　factor。　The　invisible　man。　The　people　who　are　so　much　part　of　the　background　that　you　don't　know　if　they're　there　or　not。　Six　men　and　two　girls　and　they　hardly　spoke　a　word　of　French。　Good　cover；　gipsies。　You　could　be　a　foreigner　and　yet　not　a　foreigner；　because　you　were　only　a　gipsy。　Some　of　them　had　gone　off　in　the　caravan。　Had　some　of　them　stayed；　built　themselves　a　hide…out　during　the　winter；　a　secret　place　from　which　the　hijacking　of　the　top　secret　dispatches　had　been　the　first　sortie？　Bond　had　thought　he　was　building　fantasies　until　he　found　the　scratches；　the　carefully　camouflaged　scratches；　on　the　two　trees。　They　were　just　at　the　height　where；　if　one　was　carrying　any　kind　of　a　cycle；　the　pedals　might　catch　against　the　bark。　It　could　all　be　a　pipedream；　but　it　was　good　enough　for　Bond。　The　only　question　in　his　mind　was　whether　these　people　had　made　a　one…time…only　coup　or　whether　they　were　so　confident　of　their　security　that　they　would　try　again。　He　confided　only　in　Station　F。　Mary　Ann　Russell　told　him　to　be　careful。　Head　of　F；　more　constructively；　ordered　his　unit　at　St　Germain　to　co…operate。　Bond　said　goodbye　to　Colonel　Schreiber　and　moved　to　a　camp　bed　in　the　unit's　HQ　…　an　anonymous　house　in　an　anonymous　village　back　street。　The　unit　had　provided　the　camouflage　outfit　and　the　four　Secret　Service　men　who　ran　the　unit　had　happily　put　themselves　under　Bond's　orders。　They　realised　as　well　as　Bond　did　that　if　Bond　managed　to　wipe　the　eye　of　the　whole　security　machine　of　SHAPE；　the　Secret　Service　would　have　won　a　priceless　feather　in　its　cap　vis…à…vis　the　SHAPE　High　mand；　and　M's　worries　over　the　independence　of　his　unit　would　be　gone　for　ever。
　Bond；　lying　along　the　oak　branch；　smiled　to　himself。　Private　armies；　private　wars。　How　much　energy　they　siphoned　off　from　the　mon　cause；　how　much　fire　they　directed　away　from　the　mon　enemy！
　Six…thirty。　Time　for　breakfast。　Cautiously　Bond's　right　hand　fumbled　in　his　clothing　and　came　up　to　the　slit　of　his　mouth。　Bond　made　the　glucose　tablet　last　as　long　as　possible　and　then　sucked　another。　His　eyes　never　left　the　glade。　The　red　squirrel　that　had　appeared　at　first　light　and　had　been　steadily　eating　away　at　young　beech　shoots　ever　since；　ran　a　few　feet　nearer　to　the　rose…bushes　on　the　mound；　picked　up　something　and　began　turning　it　in　his　paws　and　nibbling　at　it。　Two　wood　pigeons　that　had　been　noisily　courting　among　the　thick　grass　started　to　make　clumsy；　fluttering　love。　A　pair　of　hedge　sparrows　went　busily　on　collecting　bits　and　pieces　for　a　nest　they　were　tardily　building　in　a　thorn…bush。　The　fat　thrush　finally　located　its　worm　and　began　pulling　at　it；　its　legs　braced。　Bees　clustered　thick　among　the　roses　on　the　mound；　and　from　where　he　was；　perhaps　twenty　yards　away　from　and　above　the　mound；　Bond　could　just　hear　their　summery　sound。　It　was　a　scene　from　a　fairytale　…　the　roses　the　lilies　of　the　valley；　the　birds　and　the　great　shafts　of　sunlight　lancing　down　through　the　tall　trees　into　the　pool　of　glistening　green。　Bond　had　climbed　to　his　hide…out　at　four　in　the　morning　and　he　had　never　examined　so　closely　or　for　so　long　the　transition　from　night　to　a　glorious　day。　He　suddenly　felt　rather　foolish。　Any　moment　now　and　some　damned　bird　would　e　and　sit　on　his　head！
　It　was　the　pigeons　that　gave　the　first　alarm。　With　a　loud　clatter　they　took　off　and　dashed　into　the　trees。　All　the　birds　followed；　and　the　squirrel。　Now　the　glade　was　quiet　except　for　the　soft　hum　of　the　bees。　What　had　sounded　the　alarm？　Bond's　heart　began　to　thump。　His　eyes　hunted；　quartering　the　glade　for　a　clue。　Something　was　moving　among　the　roses。　It　was　a　tiny　movement；　but　an　extraordinary　one。　Slowly；　inch　by　inch；　a　single　thorny　stem；　an　unnaturally　straight　and　rather　thick　one；　was　rising　through　the　upper　branches。　It　went　on　rising　until　it　was　a　clear　foot　above　the　bush。　Then　it　stopped。　There　was　a　solitary　pink　rose　at　the　tip　of　the　stem。　Separated　from　the　bush；　it　looked　unnatural；　but　only　if　one　happened　to　have　watched　the　whole　process。　At　a　casual　glance　it　was　a　stray　stem　and　nothing　else。　Now；　silently；　the　petals　of　the　rose　seemed　to　swivel　and　expand；　the　yellow　pistils　drew　aside　and　sun　glinted　on　a　glass　lens　the　size　of　a　shilling。　The　lens　seemed　to　be　looking　straight　at　Bond；　but　then　very；　very　slowly；　the　rose…eye　began　to　turn　on　its　stem　and　continued　to　turn　until　the　lens　was　again　looking　at　Bond　and　the　whole　glade　had　been　minutely　surveyed。　As　if　satisfied；　the　petals　softly　swivelled　to　cover　the　eye　and　very　slowly　the　single　rose　descended　to　join　the　others。
　Bond's　breath　came　out　with　a　rush。　He　momentarily　closed　his　eyes　to　rest　them。　Gipsies！　If　that　piece　of　machinery　was　any　evidence；　inside　the　mound；　deep　down　in　the　earth；　was　certainly　the　most　professional　left…behind　spy　unit　that　had　ever　been　devised　…　far　more　brilliant　than　anything　England　had　prepared　to　operate　in　the　wake　of　a　successful　German　invasion；　far　better　than　what　the　Germans　themselves　had　left　behind　in　the　Ardennes。　A　shiver　of　excitement　and　anticipation　…　almost　of　fear　…　ran　down　Bond's　spine。　So　he　had　been　right！　But　what　was　to　be　the　next　act？
　Now；　from　the　direction　of　the　mound；　came　a　thin　high…pitched　whine　…　the　sound　of　an　electric　motor　at　very　high　revs。　The　rose　bush　trembled　slightly。　The　bees　took　off；　hovered；　and　settled　again。　Slowly；　a　jagged　fissure　formed　down　the　centre　of　the　big　bush　and　smoothly　widened。　Now　the　two　halves　of　the　bush　were　opening　like　double　doors。　The　dark　aperture　broadened　until　Bond　could　see　the　roots　of　the　bush　running　into　the　earth　on　both　sides　of　the　opening　doorway。　The　whine　of　machinery　was　louder　and　there　was　a　glint　of　metal　from　the　edges　of　the　curved　doors。　It　was　like　the　opening　of　a　hinged　Easter　egg。　In　a　moment　the　two　segments　stood　apart　and　the　two　halves　of　the　rose　bush；　still　alive　with　bees；　were　splayed　widely　open。　Now　the　inside　of　the　metal　caisson　that　supported　the　earth　and　the　roots　of　the　bush　were　naked　to　the　sun。　There　was　a　glint　of　pale　electric　light　from　the　dark　aperture　between　the　curved　doors。　The　whine　of　the　motor　had　stopped。　A　head　and　shoulders　appeared；　and　then　the　rest　of　the　man。　He　climbed　softly　out　and　crouched；　looking　sharply　round　the　glade。　There　was　a　gun　…　a　Luger　…　in　his　hand。　Satisfied；　he　turned　and　gestured　into　the　shaft。　The　head　and　shoulders　of　a　second　man　appeared。　He　handed　up　three　pairs　of　what　looked　like　snowshoes　and　ducked　out　of　sight。　The　first　man　selected　a　pair　and　knelt　and　strapped　them　over　his　boots。　Now　he　moved　about　more　freely；　leaving　no　footprints；　for　the　glass　flattened　only　momentarily　under　the　wide　mesh　and　then　rose　slowly　again。　Bond　smiled　to　himself。　Clever　bastards！
　The　second　man　emerged。　He　was　followed　by　a　third。　Between　them　they　manhandled　a　motor…cycle　out　of　the　shaft　and　stood　holding　it　slung　between　them　by　harness　webbing　while　the　first　man；　who　was　clearly　the　leader；　knelt　and　strapped　the　snowshoes　under　their　boots。　Then；　in　single　file；　they　moved　off　through　the　trees　towards　the　road。　There　was　something　extraordinarily　sinister　about　the　way　they　softly　high…stepped　along　through　the　shadows；　lifting　and　carefully　placing　each　big　webbed　foot　in　turn。
　Bond　let　out　a　long　sigh　of　released　tension　and　laid　his