iam fleming.for your eyes only-第36部分

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　Bond　said：　〃You've　certainly　e　a　long　way　since　then。　You'd　probably　find　it　pretty　dull。〃
　She　reached　out　and　touched　his　sleeve。　〃Please　don't　say　that。　You　don't　understand　…　〃　there　was　an　edge　of　desperation　in　the　soft　voice　…　〃I　can't　bear　to　go　on　missing　what　other　people　have　…　ordinary　people。　I　mean；〃　she　laughed　nervously；　〃you　won't　believe　me；　but　just　to　talk　like　this　for　a　few　minutes；　to　have　someone　like　you　to　talk　to；　is　something　I'd　almost　forgotten。〃　She　suddenly　reached　for　his　hand　and　held　it　hard。　〃I'm　sorry。　I　just　wanted　to　do　that。　Now　I'll　go　to　bed。〃
　The　soft　voice　came　from　behind　them。　The　speech　had　slurred；　but　each　word　was　carefully　separated　from　the　next。　〃Well；　well。　Whadya　know？　Necking　with　the　underwater　help！〃
　Mr　Krest　stood　framed　in　the　hatch　to　the　saloon。　He　stood　with　his　legs　apart　and　his　arms　upstretched　to　the　lintel　above　his　head。　With　the　light　behind　him　he　had　the　silhouette　of　a　baboon。　The　cold；　imprisoned　breath　of　the　saloon　rushed　out　past　him　and　for　a　moment　chilled　the　warm　night　air　in　the　well…deck。　Mr　Krest　stepped　out　and　softly　pulled　the　door　to　behind　him。
　Bond　took　a　step　towards　him；　his　hands　held　loosely　at　his　sides。　He　measured　the　distance　to　Mr　Krest's　solar　plexus。　He　said：　〃Don't　jump　to　conclusions；　Mr　Krest。　And　watch　your　tongue。　You're　lucky　not　to　have　got　hurt　so　far　tonight。　Don't　press　your　luck。　You're　drunk。　Go　to　bed。〃
　〃Oho！　Listen　to　the　cheeky　feller。〃　Mr　Krest's　moon…burned　face　turned　slowly　from　Bond　to　his　wife。　He　made　a　contemptuous；　Hapsburg…lip　grimace。　He　took　a　silver　whistle　out　of　his　pocket　and　whirled　it　round　on　its　string。　〃He　sure　don't　get　the　picture；　does　he；　treasure？　You　ain't　told　him　that　those　Heinies　up　front　ain't　just　for　ornament？〃　He　turned　back　to　Bond。　〃Feller；　you　move　any　closer　and　I　blow　this　just　once。　And　you　know　what？　It'll　be　the　old　heave…ho　for　Mr　goddam　Bond〃　…　he　made　a　gesture　towards　the　sea　…　〃over　the　side。　Man　overboard。　Too　bad。　We　back　up　to　make　a　search　and　you　know　what；　feller？　Just　by　chance　we　back　up　into　you　with　those　twin　screws。　Would　you　believe　it！　What　lousy　bad　luck　for　that　nice　feller　Jim　we　were　all　getting　so　fond　of！〃　Mr　Krest　swayed　on　his　feet。　〃Dya　get　the　photo；　Jim？　Okay；　so　let's　all　be　friends　again　and　get　some　shut　eye。〃　He　reached　for　the　lintel　of　the　hatch　and　turned　to　his　wife。　He　lifted　his　free　hand　and　slowly　crooked　a　finger。　〃Move；　treasure。　Time　for　bed。〃
　〃Yes；　Milt。〃　The　wide；　frightened　eyes　turned　side　ways。　〃Goodnight；　James。〃　Without　waiting　for　an　answer；　she　ducked　under　Mr　Krest's　arm　and　almost　ran　through　the　saloon。
　Mr　Krest　lifted　a　hand。　〃Take　it　easy；　feller。　No　hard　feelings；　eh？〃
　Bond　said　nothing。　He　went　on　looking　hard　at　Mr　Krest。
　Mr　Krest　laughed　uncertainly。　He　said：　〃Okay　then。〃　He　stepped　into　the　saloon　and　slid　the　door　shut。　Through　the　window　Bond　watched　him　walk　unsteadily　across　the　saloon　and　turn　out　the　lights。　He　went　into　the　corridor　and　there　was　a　momentary　gleam　from　the　stateroom　door；　and　then　that　too　went　dark。
　Bond　shrugged　his　shoulders。　God；　what　a　man！　He　leant　against　the　stern　rail　and　watched　the　stars　and　the　flashes　of　phosphorescence　in　the　creaming　wake；　and　set　about　washing　his　mind　clear　and　relaxing　the　coiled　tensions　in　his　body
　Half　an　hour　later；　after　taking　a　shower　in　the　crew's　bathroom　forrard；　Bond　was　making　a　bed　for　himself　among　the　piled　Dunlopillo　cushions　when　he　heard　a　single；　heartrending　scream。　It　tore　briefly　into　the　night　and　was　smothered。　It　was　the　girl。　Bond　ran　through　the　saloon　and　down　the　passage。　With　his　hand　on　the　stateroom　door；　he　stopped。　He　could　hear　her　sobs　and；　above　them；　the　soft　even　drone　of　Mr　Krest's　voice。　He　took　his　hand　away　from　the　latch；　Hell！　What　was　it　to　do　with　him？　They　were　man　and　wife。　If　she　was　prepared　to　stand　this　sort　of　thing　and　not　kill　her　husband；　or　leave　him；　it　was　no　good　Bond　playing　Sir　Galahad。　Bond　walked　slowly　back　down　the　passage。　As　he　was　crossing　the　saloon　the　scream；　this　time　less　piercing；　rang　out　again。　Bond　cursed　fluently　and　went　out　and　lay　down　on　his　bed　and　tried　to　focus　his　mind　on　the　soft　thud　of　the　diesels。　How　could　a　girl　have　so　little　guts？　Or　was　it　that　women　could　take　almost　anything　from　a　man？　Anything　except　indifference？　Bond's　mind　refused　to　unwind。　Sleep　got　further　and　further　away。
　An　hour　later　Bond　had　reached　the　edge　of　unconsciousness　when；　up　above　him　on　the　boat…deck；　Mr　Krest　began　to　snore。　On　the　second　night　out　from　Port　Victoria；　Mr　Krest　had　left　his　cabin　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　had　gone　up　to　the　hammock　that　was　kept　slung　for　him　between　the　speedboat　and　the　dinghy。　But　that　night　he　had　not　snored。　Now　he　was　snoring　with　those　deep；　rattling；　utterly　lost　snores　that　e　from　big　blue　sleeping…pills　on　top　of　too　much　alcohol。
　This　was　too　damned　much。　Bond　looked　at　his　watch。　One…thirty。　If　the　snoring　didn't　stop　in　ten　minutes；　Bond　would　go　down　to　Fidele　Barbey's　cabin　and　sleep　on　the　floor；　even　if　he　did　wake　up　stiff　and　frozen　in　the　morning。
　Bond　watched　the　gleaming　minute…hand　slowly　creep　round　the　dial。　Now！　He　had　got　to　his　feet　and　was　gathering　up　his　shirt　and　shorts　when；　from　up　on　the　boat…deck；　there　came　a　heavy　crash。　The　crash　was　immediately　followed　by　scrabbling　sounds　and　a　dreadful　choking　and　gurgling。　Had　Mr　Krest　fallen　out　of　his　hammock？　Reluctantly　Bond　dropped　his　things　back　on　the　deck　and　walked　over　and　climbed　the　ladder。　As　his　eyes　came　level　with　the　boat…deck；　the　choking　stopped。　Instead　there　was　another；　a　more　dreadful　sound　…　the　quick　drumming　of　heels。　Bond　knew　that　sound。　He　leapt　up　the　last　steps　and　ran　towards　the　figure　lying　spreadeagled　on　its　back　in　the　bright　moonlight。　He　stopped　and　knelt　slowly　down；　aghast。　The　horror　of　the　strangled　face　was　bad　enough；　but　it　was　not　Mr　Krest's　tongue　that　protruded　from　his　gaping　mouth。　It　was　the　tail　of　a　fish。　The　colours　were　pink　and　black。　It　was　the　Hildebrand　Rarity！
　The　man　was　dead　…　horribly　dead。　When　the　fish　had　been　crammed　into　his　mouth；　he　must　have　reached　up　and　desperately　tried　to　tug　it　out。　But　the　spines　of　the　dorsal　and　anal　fins　had　caught　inside　the　cheeks　and　some　of　the　spiny　tips　now　protruded　through　the　blood…flecked　skin　round　the　obscene　mouth。　Bond　shuddered。　Death　must　have　e　inside　a　minute。　But　what　a　minute！
　Bond　slowly　got　to　his　feet。　He　walked　over　to　the　racks　of　glass　specimen　jars　and　peered　under　the　protective　awning。　The　plastic　cover　of　the　end　jar　lay　on　the　deck　beside　it。　Bond　wiped　it　carefully　on　the　tarpaulin；　and　then；　holding　it　by　the　tips　of　his　fingernails；　laid　it　loosely　back　over　the　mouth　of　the　jar。
　He　went　back　and　stood　over　the　corpse。　Which　of　the　two　had　done　this？　There　was　a　touch　of　fiendish　spite　in　using　the　treasured　prize　as　a　weapon。　That　suggested　the　woman。　She　certainly　had　her　reasons。　But　Fidele　Barbey；　with　his　creole　blood；　would　have　had　the　cruelty　and　at　the　same　time　the　macabre　humour。　〃Je　lui　ai　foutu　son　sacré　poisson　dans　la　geule〃。　Bond　could　hear　him　say　the　words。　If；　after　Bond　had　left　the　saloon；　Mr　Krest　had　needled　the　Seychellois　just　a　little　bit　further　…　particularly　about　his　family　or　his　beloved　islands　…　Fidele　Barbey　would　not　have　hit　him　then　and　there；　or　used　a　knife；　he　would　have　waited　and　plotted。
　Bond　looked　round　the　deck。　The　snoring　of　the　man　could　have　been　a　signal　for　either　of　them。　There　were　ladders　to　the　boat…deck　from　both　sides　of　the　cabin…deck　amidships。　The　man　at　the　wheel　in　the　pilot…house　forrard　would　have　heard　nothing　above　the　noise　from　the　engine…room。　To　pick　the　small　fish　out　of　its　formalin　bath　and　slip　it　into　Mr　Krest's　gaping　mouth　would　have　only　needed　seconds。　Bond　shrugged。　Whichever　had　done　it　had　not　thought　of　the　consequences　…　of　the　inevitable　inquest；　perhaps　of　a　trial　in　which　he；　Bond；　would　be　an　additional　Suspect。　They　were　certainly　all　going　to　be　in　one　hell　of　a　mess　unless　he　could　tidy　things　up。
　Bond　glanced　over　the　edge　of　the　boat…deck。　Below　was　the　three…foot…wide　strip　of　deck　that　ran　the　length　of　the　ship。　Between　this　and　the　sea　there　was　a　two…foot…high　rail。　Supposing　the　hammock　had　broken；　and　Mr　Krest　had　fallen　and　rolled　under　the　speed…boat　and　over　the　edge　of　the　upper　deck；　could　he　have　reached　the　sea？　Hardly；　in　this　dead　calm；　but　that　was　what　he　was　going　to　have　done。
　Bond　got　moving。　With　a　table…knife；　from　the　saloon；　he　carefully　frayed　and　then　broke　one　of　the　main　cords　of　the　hammock　so　that　the　hammock　trailed　realistically　on　the　deck。　Next；　with　a　damp　cloth；　he　cleaned　up　the　specks　of　blood　on　the　woodwork　and　the　drops　of　formalin　that　led　from　the　specimen　jar。　Then　came　the　hardest　part　…　handling　the　corpse。　Carefully　Bond　pulled　it　to　the　very　edge　of　the　deck　and　himself　went　down　the　ladder　and；　bracing　himself；　reached　up。　The　corpse　came　down　on　top　of　him　in　a　heavy；　drunken　embrace。　Bond　staggered　under　it　to　the　low　rail　and　eased　it　over。　There　was　a　last　hideous　glimpse　of　the　obscenely　bulging　face；　a　sickening　fume　of　stale　whisky；　a