Bond ran on faster, his head down, watching the narrow breadth of planking, wondering what would happen if he missed his footing and slipped into the rushing river of guano dust. Would he be able to get off the belt again or would he be whirled away and down until he was finally spewed out on to the burial mound of Doctor No?
When Bond’s head hit into the soft stomach and he felt the hands at his throat, it was too late to think of his revolver. His only reaction was to throw himself down and forward at the legs. The legs gave against his shoulder and there was a shrill scream as the body crashed down on his back.
Bond had started the heave that would hurl his attacker sideways and on to the conveyor-belt when the quality of the scream and something light and soft about the impact of the body froze his muscles.
It couldn’t be!
As if in answer, sharp teeth bit deeply into the calf of his right leg and an elbow jabbed viciously, knowledgeably, backwards into his groin.
Bond yelled with the pain. He tried to squirm sideways to protect himself, but even as he shouted ‘Honey!’ the elbow thudded into him again.
The breath whistled through Bond’s teeth with the agony. There was only one way to stop her without throwing her on to the conveyor-belt. He took a firm grip of one ankle and heaved himself to his knees. He stood upright, holding her slung over his shoulder by one leg. The other foot banged against his head, but half-heartedly, as if she too realized that something was wrong.
‘Stop it, Honey! It’s me!’
Through the din of the conveyor-belt, Bond’s shout got through to her. He heard her cry ‘James!’ from somewhere near the floor. He felt her hands clutch at his legs. ‘James, James!’
Bond slowly let her down. He turned and knelt and reached for her. He put his arms round her and held her tightly to him. ‘Oh Honey, Honey. Are you all right?’ Desperately, unbelieving, he strained her to him.
‘Yes, James! Oh, yes!’ He felt her hands at his back and his hair. ‘Oh, James, my darling!’ she fell against him, sobbing.
‘It’s all right, Honey.’ Bond smoothed her hair. ‘And Doctor No’s dead. But now we’ve got to run for it. We’ve got to get out of here. Come on! How can we get out of the tunnel? How did you get here? We’ve got to hurry!’
As if in comment, the conveyor-belt stopped with a jerk.
Bond pulled the girl to her feet. She was wearing a dirty suit of workmen’s blue dungarees. The sleeves and legs were rolled up. The suit was far too big for her. She looked like a girl in a man’s pyjamas. She was powdered white with the guano dust except where the tears had marked her cheeks. She said breathlessly, ‘Just up there! There’s a side tunnel that leads to the machine shops and the garage. Will they come after us?’
There was no time to talk. Bond said urgently, ‘Follow me!’ and started running. Behind him her feet padded softly in the hollow silence. They came to the fork where the side tunnel led off into the rock. Which way would the men come? Down the side tunnel or along the catwalk in the main tunnel? The sound of voices booming far up the side tunnel answered him. Bond drew the girl a few feet up the main tunnel. He brought her close to him and whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Honey. I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill them.’
‘Of course.’ The answering whisper was matter of fact. She pressed his hand and stood back to give him room. She put her hands up to her ears.
Bond eased the gun out of his waistband. Softly he broke the cylinder sideways and verified with his thumb that all six chambers were loaded. Bond knew he wasn’t going to like this, killing again in cold blood, but these men would be the Chinese negro gangsters, the strong-arm guards who did the dirty work. They would certainly be murderers many times over. Perhaps they were the ones who had killed Strangways and the girl. But there was no point in trying to ease his conscience. It was kill or be killed. He must just do it efficiently.
The voices were coming closer. There were three men. They were talking loudly, nervously. Perhaps it was many years since they had even thought of going through the tunnel. Bond wondered if they would look round as they came out into the main tunnel. Or would he have to shoot them in the back?
Now they were very close. He could hear their shoes scuffing the ground.
‘That makes ten bucks you owe me, Sam.’
‘Not after tonight it won’t be. Roll them bones, boy. Roll them bones.’
‘No dice for me tonight, feller. I’m goin’ to cut maself a slice of de white girl.’
‘Haw, haw, haw.’
The first man came out, then the second, then the third. They were carrying their revolvers loosely in their right hands.
Bond said sharply, ‘No, you won’t.’
