Nobody Lives for Ever

want to end up on a sandbar. But we’ll manage. I promised my superiors I would hand you over and I like to keep my promises.’

‘Especially to the kind of masters you serve,’ Bond replied. ‘Failure isn’t exactly appreciated in the Russian service. At best you’d be demoted, or end up running exercises for trainees; at worst it would be one of those nice hospitals where they inject you with Aminazin – such a pleasant drug. Turns you into a living vegetable. I reckon that’s exactly how you’ll end up.’ He turned to Kirchtum. ‘You too, Herr Doktor. How did they put the arm on you?’

The doctor shrugged.

‘The Klinik Mozart is my whole life, Mr Bond. My entire life. Some years ago we had – how do I put it? A financial embarrassment . . .’

‘You were broke,’ Bond said placidly.

‘So. Ja. Broke. No funds. Friends of Mr Quinn – the people he works for – made me a very good offer. I could carry on my work, which has always been in the interests of humanity, and they would see to the funds.’

‘I can guess the rest,’ Bond cut in. ‘The price was your cooperation. The odd visitor to be kept under sedation for a while. Sometimes a body. Occasionally some surgery.’

The doctor nodded sadly. ‘Yes, all those things. I admit that I did not expect to become involved in a situation like the present one. But Mr Quinn tells me I shall be able to return with no blot on my professional character. Officially I am away for two days. A rest.’

Bond laughed. ‘A rest? You believe that? It can only end up with arrest, Herr Doktor. Either arrest, or one of Mr Quinn’s bullets. Probably the latter.’

‘Stop that,’ Quinn said sharply. ‘The doctor has been a great help. He will be rewarded, and he knows it.’ He smiled at Kirchtum. ‘Mr Bond is using an old, old trick, trying to make you doubt our intentions, attempting to drive a wedge between us. You know how clever he can be. You’ve seen him in action.’

Again the doctor nodded. ‘Ja. The shooting of Vasili and Yuri was not funny. That I did not like.’

‘But you were also clever. You gave Mr Quinn some harmless injection . . .’

‘Saline.’

‘And then you must have followed me.’

‘We were on your track very quickly,’ Quinn said flatly as he glanced towards the window. Outside there was still darkness. ‘But you changed my plans. My people in Paris were supposed to deal with you. It took some very fast and fancy choreography to arrange this, James. But we managed.’

‘You did indeed.’

Bond swivelled his seat, leaning forward to see out of the window. He thought there were lights in the distance.

‘Ah.’ Quinn sounded pleased. ‘There we are. Lights – Stock Island and Key West. About ten minutes to go, I’d say.’

‘And what if I make a fuss when we land?’

‘You won’t make a fuss.’

‘You’re very confident.’

‘I have an insurance. Just as you had with me, because of Tabitha. I really do believe you will do as you’re told to secure the release of May and Moneypenny. It’s the one chink in your armour, James. Always has been. Yes, you’re a cold fish; ruthless. But you’re also an old-fashioned English gentleman at heart. You’d give your life to save a defenceless woman and this time we’re talking of two women – your own ageing housekeeper and your Chief’s Personal Assistant, who has been hopelessly devoted to you for years. People you care for most in the world. Of course you’ll give your life for them. Unhappily, it’s in your nature. Unhappily, did I say? I really meant happily – for us, happily.’

Bond swallowed. Deep down inside he knew that Steve Quinn had played the trump card. He was right. 007 would go to his own death to save the lives of people like May and Moneypenny.

‘There’s another reason why you won’t make a fuss.’ It was hard to detect Quinn’s smile under that bushy beard, and it did not show in his eyes. ‘Show him, Herr Doktor.’

Kirchtum lifted a small case which lay in the magazine rack between the seats. From it he drew out what looked like a child’s space gun made of clear plastic.

‘This is an injection pistol,’ Kirchtum explained. ‘Before we land I shall fill it. Look, you can see the action.’

He drew back a small plunger from the rear, lifted the barrel in front of Bond’s face and touched the tiny trigger. The instrument was no more than seven centimetres long, with about five for the butt. As he touched the trigger, a hypodermic needle appeared from the muzzle.

‘An injection is given in 2.5 seconds.’ The doctor nodded gravely. ‘Very quick. Also the needle is very long. Goes easily through cloth.’

‘You show the least sign of making a fuss, and you get the needle, right?’

‘Instant death.’

‘Oh, no. Instant facsimile heart attack. You’ll come back to us within half an hour, as good as new. SPECTRE want your head. In the final resort, we would kill you with a power tool. But we’d rather deliver your whole body alive and intact. We owe Rahani a few favours, and the poor man hasn’t long to live. Your head is his last request.’

A moment later the pilot came on the intercom system to ask for seatbelts to be fastened and cigarettes extinguished. He announced that they would be landing in about four minutes. Bond watched out of the window as they dropped towards the lights. He saw water and tropical vegetation interspersed with roads and low buildings coming up to meet them.

‘Interesting place, Key West,’ mused Quinn. ‘Hemingway once called it the poor man’s St Tropez. Tennessee Williams lived here too. President Truman established a little White House near what used to be the Naval Base and John F. Kennedy brought the British PM, Harold Macmillan, to visit it. Cuban boat people landed here, but long before that it was a pirates’ and wreckers’ paradise. I’m told it’s still a smugglers’ heaven, and the US Coastguard operates a tight schedule out of here.’

They swept in over the threshold and touched down with hardly a bump.

‘There’s history in this airport as well,’ Quinn continued. ‘First regular US mail flight started from here; and Key West is both the beginning and end of Highway Route One.’ They rolled to a halt, then began to taxi towards a shack-like hut with a veranda. Bond saw a low wall with faded lettering: ‘Welcome to Key West the Only Frost-Free City in the United States’.

‘And they have the most spectacular sunsets,’ Quinn added. ‘Really incredible. Pity you won’t be around to see one.’

The heat hit them like a furnace as they left the aircraft. Even the mild breeze felt as if it was blowing from an inferno.

The departure from the jet was as carefully organised as the boarding, with Kirchtum close enough to use his deadly little syringe at any moment, should Bond alert their suspicion.

‘Smile and pretend to talk,’ muttered Quinn, glancing towards the veranda where a dozen or so people were waiting to welcome passengers off a newly arrived PBA flight. Bond scanned the faces, but recognised nobody. They passed through a small gate in the wall beside the shack, Quinn and Kirchtum pushing him towards another sleek dark automobile. In a few moments, Bond was again seated between the two men. This time the driver was young, in an open-necked shirt and with long blond hair.

‘Y’awl okay?’

‘Just drive,’ Quinn snapped. ‘There’s a place arranged I understand.’

‘Sure thing. Git y’there in no time.’ He drew out on to the road, turning his head slightly. ‘Y’awl mind if’n I have some music playin’?’

‘Go ahead. As long as it doesn’t frighten the horses.’

Quinn was very relaxed and confident. If it had not been for Kirchtum, tense on the other side, Bond would have made a move. But the doctor was wound up like a hair trigger. He would have the hypo into 007 if he moved a muscle. A burst of sound filled the car, a rough voice singing, tired, cynical and sad: