[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Against this a man sat on a kitchen chair, its back tilted so that the door
supported his weight. He was cleaning a rifle, a Remington 30 it looked like
to Bond. He had a wooden toothpick sticking out of his mouth and a battered
baseball cap on the back of his head. He was wearing a stained white singlet
that revealed tufts of black hair under his arms, and slept-in white canvas
trousers and rubber-soled sneakers.
He was around forty and his face was as knotted and seamed as the mooring
posts on the jetty. It was a thin, hatchet face, and the lips were thin too,
and bloodless. His complexion was the colour of tobacco dust, a sort of
yellowy-beige. He looked cruel and cold, like the bad man in a film about
poker-players and gold mines.
Bond and Leiter walked past him and on to the pier. He didn't look up from his
rifle as they went past but Bond sensed that his eyes were following them.
'If that isn't The Robber,' said Leiter, Ht's a blood relation.'
A pelican, grey with a pale yellow head, was hunched on one of the mooring
posts at the end of the jetty. He let them get very close, then reluctantly
gave a few heavy beats of his wings and planed down towards the water. The two
men stood and watched him flying slowly along just above the surface of the
harbour. Suddenly he crashed clumsily down, his long bill snaking out and down
in front of him. It came up clutching a small fish which he moodily swallowed.
Then the heavy bird got up again and went on fishing, flying mostly into the
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sun so that its big shadow would give no warning. When Bond and Leiter turned
to walk back down the jetty it gave up fishing and glided back to its post. It
settled with a clatter of wings and resumed its thoughtful consideration of
the late afternoon.
The man was still bent over his gun, wiping the mechanism with an oily rag.
'Good afternoon,' said Leiter. 'You the manager of this wharf?'
'Yep,' said the man without looking up.
'Wondered if there was any chance of mooring my boat here. Basin's pretty
crowded.'
'Nope.'
Leiter took out his notecase. 'Would twenty talk?'
'Nope.' The man gave a rattling hawk in his throat and spat directly between
Bond and Leiter.
'Hey,' said Leiter. 'You want to watch your manners.'
The man deliberated. He looked up at Leiter. He had small, close-set eyes as
cruel as a painless dentist's.x 'What's a name of your boat?'
'The Sybil,' said Leiter.
'Ain't no sich boat in the Basin,' said the man. He clicked the breech shut on
his rifle. It lay casually on his lap pointing down the approach to the
warehouse, away from the sea.
'You're blind,' said Leiter. 'Been there a week. Sixty-foot twin-screw Diesel.
White with a green awning.
Rigged for fishing.'
The rifle started to move lazilv in a low arc. The man's left hand was at the
trigger, his right just in front of the trigger-guard, pivoting the gun.
They stood still.
The man sat lazily looking down at the breech, his chair still tilted against
the small door with the yellow
Yale lock.
The gun slowly traversed Leiter's stomach, then Bond's. The two men stood like
statues, not risking a move of the hand. The gun stopped pivoting. It was
pointing down the wharf. The Robber looked briefly up, narrowed his eyes and
pulled the trigger. The pelican gave a fault squawk and they heard its heavy
body crash into the water. The echo of the shot boomed across the harbour.
'What the hell d'you do that for?' asked Bond furiously.
'Practice,' said the man, pumping another bullet into the breech.
'Guess there's a branch of the ASPCA in this town,' said Leiter. 'Let's get
along there and report this guy.'
'Want to be prosecuted for trespass?' asked The Robber, getting slowly up and
shifting the gun under his arm. 'This is private property. Now,' he spat the
words out, 'git the hell out of here.' He turned and yanked the chair away
from the door, opened the door with a key and turned with one foot on the
threshold. 'You both got guns,' he said. 'I kin smell 'em. You come aroun'
here again and you follow the boid 'n I plead self-defence. I've had a
bellyful of you lousy dicks aroun' here lately breathin' down my neck. Sybil
my ass!' He turned contemptuously through the door and slammed it so that the
frame rattled.
They looked at each other. Leiter grinned ruefully and shrugged his shoulders.
'Round One to The Robber,' he said.
They moved off down the dusty sideroad. The sun was setting and the sea behind
them was a pool of blood. When they got to the main road, Bond looked back. A
big arc light had come on over the door
and the approach to the warehouse was stripped of shadows.
'No good trying anything from the front,' said Bond. 'But there's never been a
warehouse with only one entrance.'
'Just what I was thinking,' said Leiter. 'We'll save that for the next visit.'
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
They got into the car and drove slowly home across Central Avenue.
On their way home Leiter asked a string of questions about Solitaire. Finally
he said casually: 'By the way, hope I fixed the rooms like you want them.'
'Couldn't be better,' said Bond cheerfully.
'Fine,' said Leiter. 'Just occurred to me you two might be hyphenating.'
'You read too much Winchell,' said Bond.
'It's just a delicate way of putting it,' said Leiter. 'Don't forget the walls
of those cottages are pretty thin. I
use my ears for hearing with - not for collecting lip-stick.'
Bond grabbed for a handkerchief. 'You lousy, goddam sleuth,' he said
furiously.
Leiter watched him scrubbing at himself out of the corner of his eye. 'What
are you doing?' he asked innocently. 'I wasn't for a moment suggesting the
colour of your ears was anything but a natural red.
However& ' He put a wealth of meaning into the word.
'If you find yourself dead in your bed tonight,' laughed Bond, 'you'll know
who did it.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
Against this a man sat on a kitchen chair, its back tilted so that the door
supported his weight. He was cleaning a rifle, a Remington 30 it looked like
to Bond. He had a wooden toothpick sticking out of his mouth and a battered
baseball cap on the back of his head. He was wearing a stained white singlet
that revealed tufts of black hair under his arms, and slept-in white canvas
trousers and rubber-soled sneakers.
He was around forty and his face was as knotted and seamed as the mooring
posts on the jetty. It was a thin, hatchet face, and the lips were thin too,
and bloodless. His complexion was the colour of tobacco dust, a sort of
yellowy-beige. He looked cruel and cold, like the bad man in a film about
poker-players and gold mines.
Bond and Leiter walked past him and on to the pier. He didn't look up from his
rifle as they went past but Bond sensed that his eyes were following them.
'If that isn't The Robber,' said Leiter, Ht's a blood relation.'
A pelican, grey with a pale yellow head, was hunched on one of the mooring
posts at the end of the jetty. He let them get very close, then reluctantly
gave a few heavy beats of his wings and planed down towards the water. The two
men stood and watched him flying slowly along just above the surface of the
harbour. Suddenly he crashed clumsily down, his long bill snaking out and down
in front of him. It came up clutching a small fish which he moodily swallowed.
Then the heavy bird got up again and went on fishing, flying mostly into the
Page 59
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
sun so that its big shadow would give no warning. When Bond and Leiter turned
to walk back down the jetty it gave up fishing and glided back to its post. It
settled with a clatter of wings and resumed its thoughtful consideration of
the late afternoon.
The man was still bent over his gun, wiping the mechanism with an oily rag.
'Good afternoon,' said Leiter. 'You the manager of this wharf?'
'Yep,' said the man without looking up.
'Wondered if there was any chance of mooring my boat here. Basin's pretty
crowded.'
'Nope.'
Leiter took out his notecase. 'Would twenty talk?'
'Nope.' The man gave a rattling hawk in his throat and spat directly between
Bond and Leiter.
'Hey,' said Leiter. 'You want to watch your manners.'
The man deliberated. He looked up at Leiter. He had small, close-set eyes as
cruel as a painless dentist's.x 'What's a name of your boat?'
'The Sybil,' said Leiter.
'Ain't no sich boat in the Basin,' said the man. He clicked the breech shut on
his rifle. It lay casually on his lap pointing down the approach to the
warehouse, away from the sea.
'You're blind,' said Leiter. 'Been there a week. Sixty-foot twin-screw Diesel.
White with a green awning.
Rigged for fishing.'
The rifle started to move lazilv in a low arc. The man's left hand was at the
trigger, his right just in front of the trigger-guard, pivoting the gun.
They stood still.
The man sat lazily looking down at the breech, his chair still tilted against
the small door with the yellow
Yale lock.
The gun slowly traversed Leiter's stomach, then Bond's. The two men stood like
statues, not risking a move of the hand. The gun stopped pivoting. It was
pointing down the wharf. The Robber looked briefly up, narrowed his eyes and
pulled the trigger. The pelican gave a fault squawk and they heard its heavy
body crash into the water. The echo of the shot boomed across the harbour.
'What the hell d'you do that for?' asked Bond furiously.
'Practice,' said the man, pumping another bullet into the breech.
'Guess there's a branch of the ASPCA in this town,' said Leiter. 'Let's get
along there and report this guy.'
'Want to be prosecuted for trespass?' asked The Robber, getting slowly up and
shifting the gun under his arm. 'This is private property. Now,' he spat the
words out, 'git the hell out of here.' He turned and yanked the chair away
from the door, opened the door with a key and turned with one foot on the
threshold. 'You both got guns,' he said. 'I kin smell 'em. You come aroun'
here again and you follow the boid 'n I plead self-defence. I've had a
bellyful of you lousy dicks aroun' here lately breathin' down my neck. Sybil
my ass!' He turned contemptuously through the door and slammed it so that the
frame rattled.
They looked at each other. Leiter grinned ruefully and shrugged his shoulders.
'Round One to The Robber,' he said.
They moved off down the dusty sideroad. The sun was setting and the sea behind
them was a pool of blood. When they got to the main road, Bond looked back. A
big arc light had come on over the door
and the approach to the warehouse was stripped of shadows.
'No good trying anything from the front,' said Bond. 'But there's never been a
warehouse with only one entrance.'
'Just what I was thinking,' said Leiter. 'We'll save that for the next visit.'
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
They got into the car and drove slowly home across Central Avenue.
On their way home Leiter asked a string of questions about Solitaire. Finally
he said casually: 'By the way, hope I fixed the rooms like you want them.'
'Couldn't be better,' said Bond cheerfully.
'Fine,' said Leiter. 'Just occurred to me you two might be hyphenating.'
'You read too much Winchell,' said Bond.
'It's just a delicate way of putting it,' said Leiter. 'Don't forget the walls
of those cottages are pretty thin. I
use my ears for hearing with - not for collecting lip-stick.'
Bond grabbed for a handkerchief. 'You lousy, goddam sleuth,' he said
furiously.
Leiter watched him scrubbing at himself out of the corner of his eye. 'What
are you doing?' he asked innocently. 'I wasn't for a moment suggesting the
colour of your ears was anything but a natural red.
However& ' He put a wealth of meaning into the word.
'If you find yourself dead in your bed tonight,' laughed Bond, 'you'll know
who did it.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]