Flemming, Ian James Bond 12 You Only Live Twice By Ian Fleming

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

a valuable by-product might have resulted for the whole world. These were dangerous
toys which, in the poor boy's hands, or let us say, to discard the allegory, in the hands
of a Castro, could lead to the wanton extinction of mankind. By my action, I gave a
dramatic example for all to see. If I had been successful and the money had been
handed over, might not the threat of a recurrence of my attempt have led to serious
disarmament talks, to an abandonment of these dangerous toys that might so easily get
into the wrong hands? You follow my reasoning? Then this recent matter of the
bacteriological warfare attack on England. My dear Mister Bond, England is a sick
nation by any standards. By hastening the sickness to the brink of death, might Britain
not have been forced out of her lethargy into the kind of community effort we witnessed
during the war? Cruel to be kind, Mister Bond. Where lies the great crime there? And
now this matter of my so-called "Castle of Death".' Blofeld paused and his eyes took on
an inward look. He said, 'I will make a confession to you, Mister Bond. I have come to
suffer from a certain lassitude of mind which I am determined to combat. This comes in
part from being a unique genius who is alone in the world, without honour - worse,
misunderstood. No doubt much of the root cause of this accidie is physical - liver,
kidneys, heart, the usual weak points of the middle-aged. But there has developed in
me a certain mental lameness, a disinterest in humanity and its future, an utter
boredom with the affairs of mankind. So, not unlike the gourmet, with his jaded palate, I
now seek only the highly spiced, the sharp impact on the taste buds, mental as well as
physical, the tickle that is truly exquisite. And so, Mister Bond, I came to devise this
useful and essentially humane project - the offer of free death to those who seek
release from the burden of being alive. By doing so, I have not only provided the
common man with a solution to the problem of whether to be or not to be, I have also
provided the Japanese Government, though for the present they appear to be blind to
my magnanimity, with a tidy, out-of-the-way charnel-house which relieves them of a
constant flow of messy occurrences involving the trains, the trams, the volcanoes and
other unattractively public means of killing yourself. You must admit that, far from being
a crime, this is a public service unique in the history of the world.'
'I saw one man being disgustingly murdered yesterday.' 'Tidying up, Mister Bond.
Tidying up. The man came here wishing to die. What you saw done was only helping a
weak man to his seat on the boat across the Styx. But I can see that we have no
contact. I cannot reach what serves you for a mind. For your part, you cannot see
further than the simple gratification of your last cigarette. So enough of this idle chatter.
You have already kept us from our beds far too long. Do you want to be hacked about
in a vulgar brawl, or will you offer your neck in the honourable fashion?' Blofeld took a
step forward and raised his mighty sword in both hands and held it above his head. The
light from the oil lamps shimmered on the blade and showed up the golden filigree
89
engraving.
Bond knew what to do. He had known as soon as he had been led back into the room
and had seen the wounded guard's stave still standing in the shadowed angle of the
wall. But there was a bell-push near the woman. She would have to be dealt with first!
Had he learned enough of the thrusts and parries of bojutsu from the demonstration at
the ninja training camp? Bond hurled himself to the left, seized the stave and leaped at
the woman whose hand was already reaching upwards.
The stave thudded into the side of her head and she sprawled grotesquely forward off
her chair and lay still. Blofeld's sword whistled down, inches from his shoulder. Bond
twisted and lunged to his full extent, thrusting his stave forward in the groove of his left
hand almost as if it had been a billiard cue. The tip caught Blofeld hard on the
breastbone and flung him against the wall, but he hurtled back and came inexorably
forward, swishing his sword like a scythe. Bond aimed at his right arm, missed and had
to retreat. He was concentrating on keeping his weapon as well as his body away from
the whirling steel, or his stave would be cut like a matchstick, and its extra length was
his only hope of victory. Blofeld suddenly lunged, expertly, his right knee bent forward.
Bond feinted to the left, but he was inches too slow and the tip of the sword flicked his
left ribs, drawing blood. But before Blofeld could withdraw, Bond had slashed two-
handed, sideways, at his legs. His stave met bone. Blofeld cursed, and made an
ineffectual stab at Bond's weapon. Then he advanced again and Bond could only
dodge and feint in the middle of the room and make quick short lunges to keep the
enemy at bay. But he was losing ground in front of the whirling steel, and now Blofeld,
scenting victory, took lightning steps and thrust forward like a snake. Bond leaped
sideways, saw his chance and gave a mighty sweep of his stave. It caught Blofeld on
his right shoulder and drew a curse from him. His main sword arm! Bond pressed
forward, lancing again and again with his weapon and scoring several hits to the body,
but one of Blofeld's parries caught the stave and cut off that one vital foot of extra
length as if it had been a candle-end. Blofeld saw his advantage and began attacking,
making furious forward jabs that Bond could only parry by hitting at the flat of the sword
to deflect it. But now the stave was slippery in the sweat of his hands and for the first
time he felt the cold breath of defeat at his neck. And Blofeld seemed to smell it, for he
suddenly executed one of his fast running lunges to get under Bond's guard. Bond
guessed the distance of the wall behind him and leaped backwards against it. Even so
he felt the sword-point fan across his stomach. But, hurled back by his impact with the
wall, he counter-lunged, swept the sword aside with his stave and, dropping his
weapon, made a dive for Blofeld's neck and got both hands to it. For a moment the two
sweating faces were almost up against each other. The boss of Blofeld's sword
battered into Bond's side. Bond hardly felt the crashing blows. He pressed with his
thumbs, and pressed and pressed and heard the sword clank to the floor and felt
Blofeld's fingers and nails tearing at his face, trying to reach his eyes. Bond whispered
through his gritted teeth, 'Die, Blofeld! Die!' And suddenly the tongue was out and the
eyes rolled upwards and the body slipped down to the ground. But Bond followed it and
knelt, his hands cramped round the powerful neck, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, in
the terrible grip of blood lust.
Bond slowly came to himself. The golden dragon's head on the black silk kimono spat
flame at him. He unclasped his aching hands from round the neck and, not looking [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

pobieranie @ do ÂściÂągnięcia @ ebook @ download @ pdf