'You are not busy, Mr. Heep?' said Traddles, whose eye the cunning red eye accidentally caught, as it at once scrutinized and evaded us.
Bond got up and took a handful of other magazines and threw them down beside his chair. The only thing for him to do was brazen it out and make a note for the future, if there was to be a future, that he had better wake his ideas up and not make any more mistakes. There wouldn't be enough ginger cats in the world to help him out of one more tight spot like the one he was in.
The principal covering consisted of a long clinging robe of a bright green. Around the bust was wrapped white gauze, of the slightest texture; its folds so arranged, as to resemble, as much as possible, the crested foam of ocean; from which, the head, neck, and arms, seemed, as it were, emerging; while a part of the same drapery fell over one shoulder, and floated loosely behind the figure, like the line of light on divided waters. Through various parts of the dress was twisted bright scarlet coral, intermingled with tufts of sea-weeds, bound together by clusters of the most brilliant emeralds, seemingly unset, and mixed with small shells, to give their grouping a natural appearance; while over all were scattered costly pearls, innumerable, neither strung nor set. The feet and ankles, in particular, were entirely encrusted with ornaments of this mixed description, as if the accumulation had been collected, by treading the rocks and caverns of the fathomless deep, among Neptune’s hidden treasures.
Bond's gun shouted its four words. There was a lightning impression of a white face jerked up towards the sky and then the great black-and-gold engine was past and hurtling towards the shadowy wall of the Spectre Mountains, the beam of its pilot-light scything at the darkness ahead and its automatic warning-bell clanging sadly on, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
There came an angry murmur from round the table. "Why shouldn't we . . . ? Why shouldn't they . . . ?" The voice of Gengerella dominated the others. He shouted, "Who in hell said we weren't to make money? Isn't that one of the objects of The Group? I ask you again, Mr. Hendriks, as I asked you six months ago, who in hell is it among your so-called superiors who wants to keep the price of raw sugar down? For my money, the most interested party in such a gambit would be Soviet Russia. They're selling goods to Cuba, including, let me say, the recently abortive shipment of missiles to fire against my country, in exchange for raw sugar. They're sharp traders, the Reds. In their doubledealing way, even from a friend and ally, they would want more sugar for fewer goods. Yes? I suppose," the voice sneered, "one of your superiors, Mr. Hendriks, would not by any chance be in the Kremlin?"
O’Shan. O ye may be satisfied of it! There’s only one thing that’s doubtful, I’m thinking.
The Judge bowed. All except Bond rose and bowed. Bond just bowed. "In that case, I declare this inquiry closed." The bewigged figure turned to Miss Goodnight. "If you will be land enough to obtain all the signatures, duly witnessed, and send them round to my chambers? Thank you so much." He paused and smiled. "And the carbon, if you don't mind?"
"It's a wonderful machine," said the Professor. "She'll fly all right if nobody interferes with her. Drax has done a sound job. Wonderful organizer. That's a brilliant team he put together. And they'll do anything for him. We've got a lot to thank him for."
What they didn't know was that she worried herself almost to death when they were in danger and that she loved them equally; but that she had no intention of becoming emotionally involved with any man who might be dead next week. And it was true that an appointment in the Secret Service was a form of peonage. If you were a woman there wasn't much of you left for other relationships. It was easier for the men. They had an excuse for fragmentary affairs. For them marriage and children and a home were out of the question if they were to be of any use 'in the field' as it was cosily termed. But, for the women, an affair outside the Service automatically made you a 'security risk' and in the last analysis you had a choice of resignation from the Service and a normal life, or of perpetual concubinage to your King and Country.
Goldfinger said, 'We will have a demonstration.' He pointed at the thick oak banisters that ran up the stairs. The rail was a massive six inches by four thick. The Korean obediently walked over to the stairs and climbed a few steps. He stood with his hands at his sides, gazing across at Gold-finger like a good retriever. Goldfinger gave a quick nod. Impassively the Korean lifted his right hand high and straight above his head and brought the side of it down like an axe across the heavy polished rail. There was a splintering crash and the rail sagged, broken through the centre. Again the hand went up and flashed down. This time it swept right through the rail leaving a jagged gap. Splinters clattered down on to the floor of the hall. The Korean straightened himself and stood to attention, waiting for further orders. There was no flush of effort in his face and no hint of pride in his achievement.