`Look.' A flicker of movement caught Bond's eye. His hand hesitated over the controls until he found a small joystick that operated one of the many closed-circuit TV cameras. He gently moved the stick, focusing and then zooming in on the movement. There on the walkway, William was climbing down to help Charles to his feet. The latter looked shaky and a little stunned, while the pair of them were obviously talking and trying to decide what should be done.
The walkway itself broadened and sloped on to firm ground at each exhibit, so that visitors were able to move directly from this main path around the museum into each presentation which would come to life at their approach and, cunningly, direct them back on to the higher metal path when the show was over. Groups of people would be automatically led from one exhibit to the next, probably in a state of disorientation which would lead to a greater sense of wonder.
Bond's hand worked the joystick again, tilting the hidden camera up to view the walls of the museum. High above the exhibits was a second catwalk obviously the gantry which would be used for maintenance and possibly security. At intervals, metal ladders led straight down from the gantry giving access to the main walkway and the complex set pieces.
`The man's got a goldmine here once it's completed.' Fredericka moved behind him, her voice almost a whisper of awe, adding, `If it's ever completed.' `I vote we use the master switch, turn on all the fun of the fair and go down to hunt that pair of heavies on their own ground.' Bond bent over the controls memorizing the layout and making sure he could lead them through the maze of exhibits.
`It says, 'Danger, high voltage' ` Fredericka inclined her head towards the door to the gantry.
`So have you got some other magic way out of here?' `No, but I'm not really partial to getting a ,few thousand volts of electricity run through me.
`Then don't touch anything. Keep away from the wall. Look...
He began to carefully outline his plan, moving the closed-circuit TV camera around with the joystick to show her exactly which way they should go.
`I always wanted to be in a big Broadway musical,' she said, for the plan was to surface from the rear of the display which took visitors on to the stage of a musical-one of the exhibits they had not seen on their short tour which had been interrupted by Charles.
Once more Bond moved the camera to focus on to the area in which he had last seen the two supposed male nurses. They were still there, with Charles rubbing a bruised shoulder and testing the strength of an injured leg.
`William's on the ball.' Fredericka nodded at the screen as William handed a spare automatic pistol to his colleague. `Thinks of everything. I imagine you want to get this show on the road before they both come dashing up here and do unspeakable things to us?' `I think it would be the wisest move. Ready?' She nodded, and Bond's hand once more hovered over the console, finally stopping just above the lever that bore the legend `master switch'. He hesitated again. `Just for the hell of it, Flick, cold you make sure that door to the gantry is open.' She opened the door and found herself looking down into an elevator shaft.
`There's a call button,' she nodded back towards Bond. `How very thoughtful. If we had rushed in, we would've been clawing air.' She pressed the button and they heard the whine of machinery.
Bond kept one eye on the TV monitor to check on Charles and William who seemed undecided about the next course of action and appeared to be arguing. William, he considered, was probably all in favour of doing away with them, while Charles probably wanted to at least wait until Maeve was back before taking any drastic action.
The cage rose and Fredericka pulled back its sliding door.
`Okay, let's go.
He pulled the master switch, saw the museum plunged into darkness on the monitor and walked quickly into the cage, which smoothly descended at a touch of the `down' button. The elevator stopped and they found that they were in a narrow sloping passage which would clearly lead down into the main part of the castle, and the gantry high above the museum.
They went forward at a jog trot. `Remember we have no spare ammunition. If they start shooting, make every round count.' Bond checked the Colt, and saw Fredericka glance down at the handgun she had taken from Charles.
On reaching the door leading on to the gantry they paused, Bond telling her to move as quietly as possible. Then they crossed through into darkness, standing for a few seconds to allow their eyes to adjust.
Below them, far off to the left there was noise and action from the Globe Theatre exhibit near which they had been stopped by Charles.
Slowly they traversed the catwalk, very much aware that they were suspended, dangerously high, above the vast cavern that was the museum.
Bond's eyes were quickly conditioned to the darkness, and he led the way, feeling the safety bar to his left, trying to judge the distance to the metal ladder that would take them down, close by the Broadway musical exhibit. He counted four chained-off ladder sections, stopping when he came to the fifth, turning and whispering to Fredericka, making downward motions with his hands.
He saw her nod, then he swung out on to the ladder, slipping the Colt into his waistband, momentarily wondering how she would cope with her weapon. The narrow rungs were cool and firm to the touch and he gradually increased his speed, descending rapidly into the blackness below, waiting at the bottom for Fredericka to join him, gesturing with his arm towards where he considered the exhibit to be.
They were behind a high curving stone wall, the cyclorama at the back of the display. Silently they moved, crabbing their way to the end of the wall.
Bond nodded to her, took a deep breath and they plunged forward.
Neither of them was prepared for the effects which suddenly assaulted all their senses. As they stepped into the dark area, so it became alive. For a few seconds they were almost blinded by the light and deafened by the noise: it was as though they had walked through some magic looking-glass on to a stage full of prancing, dancing figures, lit by floods and full battens of theatrical lighting, and singing their hearts out: `There's no business like show business.' The figures moved with precision following a set pattern of dance steps, the men in white tie and tails, the girls in silver tail coats, top hats and abbreviated spangled briefs. The noise was deafening, and Bond could just see an orchestra conductor through the glaring light.
Close up, the dancing automata had a bizarre appearance with sparkling staring eyes, rouged cheeks, set smiling faces, their mouths opening and closing like ventriloquists' dummies, the dance steps prescribed by the patterns set in their computerized, robotic brains.
The impact of the whole slowed both Bond and Fredericka who lost precious moments as they stood, almost confused by the spectacle.
Then the shooting began.
A male automaton was lifted off its feet, almost at Bond's side as two bullets ripped in from somewhere beyond in the darkness. He had been aware of the muzzle flashes from the darkness, and fired twice in the general direction from which the shots had come as he blundered forward, nudging one of the female dancers so that the robot was pushed out of alignment and continued to go through her dance steps moving away from the other females.
He saw and heard Fredericka fire into the black hole behind the lights and thought he heard a screech of pain above the din of music and singing. Another bullet cracked past his head, and the face of a second male robot disintegrated into wires and microchips as Bond leaped forward through the lights and into the cavern of darkness beyond. The music and singing did not stop, but he was aware of the robotic confusion now reigning on the stage. From the corner of his eye he saw Fredericka jump across what was supposed to be the orchestra pit, firing as she went. Then he was also on the far side of the lights looking at Charles, spreadeagled on the ground, his shirtfront a bloody gushing mess where one of their bullets had struck him.
`There!' Fredericka shouted, swivelling to the right and getting off two rounds, aimed at the fleeing figure of William who ran, clattering along the walkway.
Bond followed and, on reaching the metal path with Fredericka close on his heels, the din of the Broadway show cut off, the music suddenly silenced and the lights going off as they crossed the invisible electronic eyes which operated the display. Now the only sound was of William's feet on the metal as he ran from the fight.
They followed, Fredericka slightly behind Bond, who fired once at the retreating man just as he momentarily activated another of the displays-a modern play, set on a proscenium arched stage.
