by John Gardner
‘What conversation?’ Becker’s expression did not change.
9
VAMPIRE
Salzburg was crowded – a large number of American citizens were out to see Europe before they died, and an equally large number of Europeans were out to see Europe before it completely changed into Main Street Common Market. Many thought they were already too late, but Salzburg, with the ghost of Mozart, and its own particular charm, did better than most.
The hotel Goldener Hirsch holds up exceptionally well, especially as its charm, comfort and hospitality reaches a long arm back through eight hundred years.
They had to use one of the festival car parks and carry their luggage to the Goldener Hirsch, where it stands in the traffic-free centre of the old town, close to the crowded, colourful Getreidegasse with its exquisite carved window frames and gilded wrought iron shop signs.
‘How in the name of Blessed St Michael did you get reservations at the Goldener Hirsch?’ asked Nannie.
‘Influence,’ Bond said soberly. ‘Why St Michael?’
‘Michael the Archangel. Patron saint of bodyguards and minders.’
Bond thought grimly that he needed all the help the angels could provide. Heaven alone knew what instructions he would receive within the next twenty-four hours, or whether they would be in the form of a bullet or a knife.
Before they left the Bentley, Nannie cleared her throat.
‘James,’ she began primly, ‘you said something a while back that Sukie finds offensive, and doesn’t make me happy either.’
‘Oh?’
‘You said we’d only have to bear with you for another twenty-four hours or so.’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘No! No, it isn’t true.’
‘I was accidentally forced to involve you both in a potentially very dangerous situation. I had no option but to drag you into it. You’ve both been courageous, and a great help, but it couldn’t have been fun. What I’m telling you now is that you’ll both be out of it within twenty-four hours or so.’
‘We don’t want to be out of it,’ Nannie said calmly.
‘Yes, it’s been hairy,’ Sukie began, ‘but we feel that we’re your friends. You’re in trouble, and . . .’
‘Sukie’s instructed me to remain with you. To mind you, James, and, while I’m at it, she’s coming along for the ride.’
‘That just might not be possible.’ Bond looked at each girl in turn, his clear blue eyes hard and commanding.
‘Well, it’ll just have to become possible.’ Sukie was equally determined.
‘Look, Sukie, it’s quite likely that I shall be given instructions from a very persuasive authority. They may well demand that you’re left behind, released, ordered to go your own sweet way.’
Nannie was just as firm. ‘Well, it’s just too bad if our own sweet way happens to be the same as your own sweet way, James. That’s all there is to it.’
Bond shrugged. Time would tell. It was possible that he would be ordered to take the women with him anyway, as hostages. If not, there should be an opportunity to leave quietly when the time came. The third option was that it would all end here, at the Goldener Hirsch, in which case the question would not arise.
‘I might need some stamps,’ Bond said, quietly, to Sukie as they approached the hotel. ‘Quite a lot. Enough for a small package to the UK. Could you get them? Send a few innocuous postcards by the porter, and collect some stamps at the same time if you would.’
‘Of course, James,’ she answered.
The Goldener Hirsch is said by many to be the best hotel in Salzburg – enchanting, elegant and picturesque, even if rather self-consciously so. The staff are dressed in the local Loden and the rooms are heavy with Austrian history. Bond reflected that his room could have been prepared for the shooting of The Sound of Music.
As the porter left, closing the door discreetly behind him, Bond heard Kirchtum’s warning again clear in his head: ‘You will . . . await instructions . . . You will on no account contact your people in London.’ So, for the time being at least, it would be folly to telephone London, or even Vienna and report progress. Whoever had fixed the bookings would also have seen that his telephone was wired somewhere in the network outside the hotel. Even using the CC500 would alert them to the fact that he was making contact with the outside world. Yet he must keep Headquarters informed.
From his second briefcase Bond extracted two minute tape recorders, checked the battery strength and set them to voice activation. He rewound both tapes and attached one machine with a sucker microphone the size of a grain of wheat to the telephone. The other he placed in full view, on top of the minibar.
Fatigue had caught up with him. He had arranged to meet the others for dinner that evening in the famous snug bar around six. Until then, they had agreed to rest. He rang down for a pot of black coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. While he waited, Bond examined his room and the small, windowless bathroom. There was a neat shower protected by solidly built sliding glass doors. He approved, and decided to have a shower later. He was hanging his suits in the wardrobe when the waiter arrived with freshly brewed strong coffee and the eggs cooked to perfection.
When he had eaten he placed the ASP near at hand, put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door and settled into one of the comfortable armchairs. Eventually he fell into a deep sleep and dreamed that he was a waiter in a continental café, dashing between the kitchen and the tables as he served M, Tamil Rahani, the now-deceased Poison Dwarf, and Sukie and Nannie. Just before waking he took tea to Sukie and Nannie with a huge cream cake, which disintegrated into sawdust as soon as they tried to cut it. This appeared not to concern either of them, for they paid the bill, each one leaving a piece of jewellery as a tip. He went to pick up a gold bracelet when it slipped, falling with a heavy crash on to a plate.
Bond woke with a start, convinced the noise was real, yet he heard only street noises drifting in through his window. He stretched, uncomfortable and stiff after sleeping in a chair, and glanced at the stainless steel Rolex on his wrist. He was amazed to see that he had slept for several hours. It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon.
Bleary-eyed with sleep, he went to the bathroom, turned on the lights and opened the tall doors to the shower. A strong hot shower followed by an icy one, then a shave and change of clothes would freshen him up.
He began to run the shower, closed the door and started to strip. It crossed his mind that whoever had told him to await orders were taking their time. If he had been manipulating this kidnap, he would have struck almost as soon as his victim had registered at the hotel, getting his quarry out in the open while he was still in bad shape from a night without sleep.
Naked, he went back into the bedroom for the ASP and the baton, which he placed on the floor under a couple of hand towels, just outside the shower. Then he tested the temperature and stepped under the spray. He closed the sliding door and began to soap himself, rubbing his body vigorously with a rough flannel.
Drenched with the hot spray, and exalting in a sense of cleanliness, he altered the settings on the taps, allowing the water to cool quickly until he stood under a shower of almost ice-cold water. The shock hit him, as though he had walked out into a blizzard. Feeling thoroughly revitalised, he turned off the water and shook himself like a dog. Then he reached out to open the sliding door.
Suddenly he was on the alert. He could almost smell danger near by. Before he touched the door handle the lights went out, leaving him disorientated for a second, and in that second he missed the handle, though he heard the door slide open a fraction and close again with a thud. He knew he was now not alone. There was something else in the shower with him, which brushed his face and then went wild, thudding against his body and the sides of the shower.
Bond scrabbled desperately for the door with one hand, flapping the flannel about his face and body with the other to ward off the creature confined with him in the shower. But when his fingers closed over the hand
le and pulled, the door would not move. The harder he tugged the more vicious the creature’s attacks became. He felt a clawing at his shoulder, then his neck, but managed to dislodge it, still hauling on the door, which refused to budge. The thing paused for a moment, as though in preparation for a final assault.
Then he heard Sukie’s voice, far away, bright, even flirtatious.
‘James? James, where on earth are you?’
‘Here! In the bathroom! Get me out, for heaven’s sake!’
A second later, the lights went on again. He was aware of Sukie’s shadow in the main bathroom. Then he saw his adversary. It was something he had come across only in zoos, and never one as big. Hunched on top of the shower head crouched a giant vampire bat, its evil eyes bright above the razor-toothed mouth, its wings beginning to spread in another attack. He lunged at it with the flannel, shouting,
‘Get the shower open!’
The door began to slide open. ‘Get out of the bathroom, Sukie. Get out!’ Bond wrenched back the door as the bat dived.
He fell sideways into the bathroom, slamming the shower door closed as he did so. He rolled across the floor, making straight for the weapons under the towels.
Although he knew that a vampire bat cannot kill instantly, the thought of what it could inject into his bloodstream was enough to make Bond feel nauseous. And he had not been quick enough, for the creature had escaped with him into the bathroom. He shouted again to Sukie to close the door and wait.
In the space of two heartbeats all he knew of the vampire bat – even its Latin name, the Desmodus rotundus – flashed through his mind. There were three varieties. Usually they hunted at night, creeping up on their prey and clamping on to a hairless part of the body with incredibly sharp canine teeth. They sucked blood, at the same time pumping out saliva to stop the blood clotting. It was the saliva that could transmit disease – rabies and other deadly viruses.
This bat was obviously a hybrid and would be carrying some particularly unpleasant disease in its saliva. The lights of the bathroom had completely disorientated it, though it obviously needed blood badly and would fight to sink its teeth into Bond’s flesh. Its body was about twenty-seven centimetres long, while the wingspan spread a good sixty centimetres – over three times the length of a normal member of the species.
As though sensing Bond’s thoughts, the huge bat raised its front legs, opening the wings to full span and gathered its body up for the fast attack.
Bond’s right hand flicked downwards, clicking the baton into its open position. He smashed the weapon hard in the direction of the oncoming creature. His aim succeeded more by luck than judgment, for bats, with their radar-like senses, can usually avoid objects. Probably the unnatural light had something to do with its slow reflexes, for the steel baton caught it directly on the head, throwing it across the room, where it struck the shower doors. With a stride Bond was over the twitching, flapping body and like a man demented he hit the squirming animal again and again. He knew what he was doing, and was aware that fear played no small part in it. As he struck the shattered body time after time his thoughts were of the men who had prepared such a thing as this especially to kill him – for he had little doubt that the saliva of this vampire bat contained something which would bring a fast, painful death.
When he had finished, he dropped the baton in the shower, turned on the spray and walked into the bedroom. He had some disinfectant in the small first aid kit which was now Q Branch standard issue.
He had forgotten about his nakedness.
‘Well, now I’ve seen everything. Quits,’ said Sukie, unsmiling, from the chair in which she waited.
There was a small pistol, similar to the one Nannie carried, in her right hand. It was pointing steadily midway between Bond’s legs.
10
THE MOZART MAN
Sukie looked hard at Bond, and then down at the gun. ‘It’s a pretty little thing, isn’t it?’ She smiled, and he thought he could detect relief in her eyes.
‘Just stop pointing it at me. Put on the safety catch and stow it, Sukie.’
She broadened the smile. ‘Same goes for you, James.’
Suddenly Bond became aware of his nakedness, and grabbed at the hotel towelling robe as Sukie fitted the small pistol into a holster attached to her white suspender belt.
‘Nannie fixed me up with this. Just like hers.’ She looked up at him, primly pulling down her skirt. ‘I brought your stamps, James. What was going on in the bathroom? For a horrible moment I thought you were having real trouble.’
‘I was having trouble, Sukie. Very unpleasant trouble, in the shape of a large hybrid vampire bat, which is not a creature you usually come across in Europe, and especially not in Salzburg. Somebody prepared this one for me.’
‘A vampire bat?’ Her voice rose in astonishment. ‘James! It could have . . .’
‘. . . probably killed me. It was almost certainly carrying something even more lethal than rabies or bubonic plague. How did you get in, by the way?’
‘I knocked but there was no reply.’ She laid the little strip of stamps on the table. ‘Then I realised the door was open. It wasn’t until I heard the noises coming from the bathroom that I switched on the light. Someone had jammed the shower door with a chair. Actually, I thought it was a practical joke – it’s the kind of thing Nannie gets up to – until I heard you shout. I kicked the chair out of the way and moved like lightning.’
‘And then waited in here with a loaded gun.’
‘Nannie’s teaching me to use it. She seems to think it’s necessary.’
‘And I think it’s really necessary for you both to get out of this but thinking won’t make it happen. Would you like to do me another favour?’
‘Whatever you wish, James.’
Her attitude was suspiciously soft, even yielding. Bond wondered if a girl like Sukie Tempesta would have the guts to handle a dangerous hybrid vampire bat. On balance, he thought, the Principessa Tempesta was perfectly capable of such an act.
‘I want you to get me some rubber gloves and a large bottle of antiseptic.’
‘Any particular brand?’ She stood up.
‘Something very strong.’
After Sukie had left on her errand, Bond retrieved the small bottle from the first aid kit and rubbed antiseptic over every inch of his skin. To counteract the strong antiseptic smell he applied cologne. Then he started to dress.
He was concerned about disposing of the bat’s corpse. Really it should be incinerated, and the bathroom ought to be fumigated. Bond could hardly go to the hotel manager and explain the circumstances. Plenty of antiseptic, a couple of the hotel plastic carriers and a quick visit to the waste-disposal unit, then hope for the best, he thought.
He put on his grey Cardin suit, a light blue shirt from Hilditch and Key of Jermyn Street, and a white-spotted navy blue tie. The telephone rang and as Bond picked it up he glanced at the tape machine. He saw the tiny cassette begin to turn as he answered curtly.
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Bond? Is that you, Mr Bond?’ It was Kirchtum, breathing heavily and obviously very frightened.
‘Yes, Herr Direktor. Are you all right?’
‘Physically, yes. They say I am to speak the truth and tell you what a fool I’ve been.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, I tried to refuse to pass any further instructions to you. I told them they should do this job themselves.’
‘And they did not take too kindly to that.’ Bond paused, then added for the sake of the tape, ‘Particularly as you had already told me I must come with the two ladies to the Goldener Hirsch, here in Salzburg.’
‘I must now give you instructions quickly, they say, otherwise they will use the electricity again.’ The man sounded on the verge of tears.
‘Go ahead. Fast as you like, Herr Doktor.’
Bond knew what Kirchtum was talking about – the brutal, old, but effective method of attaching electrodes to the genitals. Outdated methods of persuas
ion were often quicker than the drugs used by more sophisticated interrogators nowadays. Kirchtum spoke more rapidly, his voice high-pitched with fear, and Bond could almost see them standing over him, a hand poised on the switch.
‘You are to go to Paris tomorrow. It should take you only one day. You must drive on the direct route, and there are rooms booked for you at the George Cinq.’
‘Do the ladies have to accompany me?’
‘This is essential . . . You understand? Please say you understand, Mr Bond . . .’
‘I . . .’ He was interrupted by an hysterical scream. Had the switch been pulled for encouragement? ‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ It was not the doctor speaking now, but a hollow, distorted voice. ‘Good. Then you will save the two ladies we are holding from a most unpleasant, slow end. We shall speak again in Paris, Bond.’
The line went dead, and Bond picked up the miniature tape machine. He ran the tape back and replayed it through its tiny speaker. At least he could get this information to Vienna or London. The final echoing voice on the line might also be of some small help to them. Even if the men terrorising Kirchtum at the Klinik Mozart had used an electronic ‘voice handkerchief’, there was still the chance that Q Branch might take an accurate voice print from it. At least if they could make some identification, M would know which particular organisation Bond was dealing with.
He went over to the desk and removed the tiny cassette from the tape machine, nipping off the little plastic safety lug to prevent the tape from being accidentally recorded over. He addressed a stout envelope in M’s cover name as Chairman of Transworld, at one of the safe Post Office box numbers, folded the cassette into a sheet of hotel writing paper, on which he had written a few words, and sealed the envelope. Guessing the weight of the package, he added stamps.
He had just finished this important chore when a knock at the door heralded Sukie’s return. She carried a brown paper sack containing her purchases, and appeared inclined to stay in the room until Bond firmly suggested that she join Nannie and wait in the snug bar for him.