‘Doctor Walter! That is an order.’ Drax’s voice of controlled anger broke in on Bond’s thoughts as he stood fingering the sharp leading edge of the tail of one of the Columbite fins. ‘Back to work. We have wasted enough time.’
The men scattered smartly about their duties and Drax came up to where Bond was standing, leaving Walter hanging about indecisively beneath the exhaust vent of the rocket.
Drax’s face was thunderous. ‘Damn fool. Always seeing trouble,’ he muttered. And then abruptly, as if he wanted to clear his deputy out of his mind, ‘Come along to my office. Show you the flight plan. Then we’ll go off to bed.’
Bond followed him across the floor. Drax turned a small handle flush with the steel wall and a narrow door opened with a soft hiss. Three feet inside there was another steel door and Bond noticed that they were both edged with rubber. Air-lock. Before closing the outer door Drax paused on the threshold and pointed along the circular wall to a number of similar inconspicuous flat knobs in the wall. ‘Workshops,’ he said. ‘Electricians, generators, fuelling control, washrooms, stores.’ He pointed to the adjoining door. ‘My secretary’s room.’ He closed the outer door before he opened the second and walked into his office and shut the inner door behind Bond.
It was a severe room painted pale grey, containing a broad desk and several chairs of tubular metal and dark blue canvas. The floor was carpeted in grey. There were two green filing cabinets and a large metal radio set. A half-open door showed part of a tiled bathroom. The desk faced a wide blank wall which seemed to be made of opaque glass. Drax walked up to the walls and snapped down two switches on its extreme right. The whole wall lit up and Bond was faced with two maps each about six feet square traced on the back of the glass.
The left-hand map showed the eastern quarter of England from Portsmouth to Hull and the adjoining waters from Latitude 50 to 55. From the red dot near Dover which was the site of the Moonraker, arcs showing the range in ten-mile intervals had been drawn up the map. At a point eighty miles from the site, between the Friesian Islands and Hull, there was a red diamond in the middle of the ocean.
Drax waved towards the dense mathematical tables and columns of compass readings which filled the right-hand side of the map. ‘Wind velocities, atmospheric pressure, ready-reckoner for the gyro settings,’ he said. ‘All worked out using the rocket’s velocity and range as constants. We get the weather every day from the Air Ministry and readings from the upper atmosphere every time the R.A.F. jet can get up there. When he’s at maximum altitude he releases helium balloons that can get up still further. The earth’s atmosphere reaches about fifty miles up. After twenty there’s hardly any density to affect the Moonraker. It’ll coast up almost in a vacuum. Getting through the first twenty miles is the problem. The gravity pull’s another worry. Walter can explain all those things if you’re interested. There’ll be continuous weather reports during the last few hours on Friday. And we’ll set the gryos just before the take-off. For the time being, Miss Brand gets together the data every morning and keeps a table of gyro settings in case they’re wanted.’
Drax pointed at the second of the two maps. This was a diagram of the rocket’s flight ellipse from firing point to target. There were more columns of figures. ‘Speed of the earth and its effect on the rocket’s trajectory,’ explained Drax. ‘The earth will be turning to the east while the rocket’s in flight. That factor has to be married in with the figures on the other map. Complicated business. Fortunately you don’t have to understand it. Leave it to Miss Brand. Now then,’ he switched off the lights and the wall went blank, ‘any particular questions about your job? Don’t think there’ll be much for you to do. You can see that the place is already riddled with security. The Ministry’s insisted on it from the beginning.’
‘Everything looks all right,’ said Bond. He examined Drax’s face. The good eye was looking at him sharply. Bond paused. ‘Do you think there was anything between your secretary and Major Tallon?’ he asked. It was an obvious question and he might just as well ask it now.
‘Could have been,’ said Drax easily. ‘Attractive girl. They were thrown together a lot down here. At any rate she seems to have got under Bartsch’s skin.’
‘I hear Bartsch saluted and shouted “Heil Hitler” before he put the gun in his mouth,’ said Bond.
‘So they tell me,’ said Drax evenly. ‘What of it?’
‘Why do all the men wear moustaches?’ asked Bond, ignoring Drax’s question. Again he had the impression that his question had nettled the other man.
