The wings of a dove, the heavenly choir, Hark the Herald Angels Sing – what else ought he to remember about Paradise? It was all so exactly like what he had been told in the nursery – this sensation of flying, the darkness, the drone of a million harps. He really must try and remember the dope about the place. Let’s see now, one got to the Pearly Gates ...
A deep fatherly voice said, almost in his ear, ‘This is your captain speaking.’ (Well, well. Who was this. Saint Peter?) ‘We are coming in to land now. Will you please fasten your seat belts and extinguish your cigarettes. Thank you.’
There must be a whole lot of them, going up together. Would Tilly be on the same trip? Bond squirmed with embarrassment. How would he introduce her to the others, to Vesper for instance? And when it came to the point, which would he like the best? But perhaps it would be a big place with countries and towns. There was probably no more reason why he should run into one of his former girl friends here than there had been on earth. But still there were a lot of people he’d better avoid until he got settled in and found out the form. Perhaps, with so much love about, these things wouldn’t matter. Perhaps one just loved all the girls one met. Hm. Tricky business!
With these unworthy thoughts in his mind, Bond relapsed into unconsciousness.
The next thing he knew was a gentle sensation of swaying. He opened his eyes. The sun blinded them. He closed them again. A voice above and behind his head said, ‘Watch it, bud. That ramp’s steeper than it looks.’ Almost immediately there was a heavy jolt. A surly voice in front said, ‘Cheesus, you’re telling me. Why in hell can’t they put down rubber.’
Bond thought angrily, that’s a fine way to talk up here. Just because I’m new and they think no one’s listening.
There was the bang of a swing door. Something hit Bond sharply on a protruding elbow. He shouted ‘Hey!’ and tried to reach his elbow and rub it, but his hands wouldn’t move.
‘Whaddya know. Hey, Sam, better call the doc. This one’s come round.’
‘Sure! Here, put him alongside the other.’ Bond felt himself being lowered. It was cooler now. He opened his eyes. A big round Brooklyn face was bent over his. The eyes met his and smiled. The metal supports of the stretcher touched the ground. The man said, ‘How ya feelin’, mister?’
‘Where am I?’ Now there was panic in Bond’s voice. He tried to rise but couldn’t. He felt the sweat break out on his body. God! Was this still part of the old life? At the thought of it, a wave of grief poured through his body. Tears burned his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.
‘Hey, hey! Take it easy, mister. You’re okay. This is Idlewild, New York. You’re in America now. No more troubles, see.’ The man straightened up. He thought Bond was a refugee from somewhere. ‘Sam, get movin’. This guy’s in shock.’
‘Okay, okay.’ The two voices receded, mumbling anxiously.
Bond found he could move his head. He looked round. He was in a white-painted ward – presumably something to do with the health department of the airport. There was a row of tidy beds. Sun poured down from high windows, but it was cool, air-conditioned. He was on a stretcher on the floor. There was another one next to it. He strained his head sideways. It was Tilly. She was unconscious. Her pale face, framed in the black hair, pointed at the ceiling.
The door at the end of the ward sighed open. A doctor in a white coat stood and held it. Goldfinger, looking brisk, cheerful, walked swiftly down between the beds. He was followed by Oddjob. Bond wearily closed his eyes. Christ! So that was the score.
Feet gathered round his stretcher. Goldfinger said breezily, ‘Well, they certainly look in good shape, eh, Doctor? That’s one of the blessings of having enough money. When one’s friends or one’s staff are ill one can get them the very best medical attention. Nervous breakdowns, both of them. And in the same week! Would you believe it? But I blame myself for working them both too hard. Now it’s my duty to get them back on their feet again. Dr Foch – he’s the best man in Geneva, by the way – was quite definite. He said, “They need rest, Mr Goldfinger. Rest, rest and again rest.” He gave them sedatives and now they’re on their way to the Harkness Pavilion at the Presbyterian.’ Goldfinger chuckled fatly. ‘Sow and you shall reap, eh, Doctor? When I gave the Harkness a million dollars’ worth of X-ray equipment, I certainly never expected anything back. But now? I only had to put through a call and they’ve got two fine rooms waiting for them. Now then –’ there was a rustle of notes – ‘thank you for all your help with Immigration. Fortunately they both had valid visas and I think Immigration was satisfied that Mr Auric Goldfinger was a sufficient guarantee that neither of them wants to overthrow the United States Government by force, what?’
‘Yes indeed, and thank you Mr Goldfinger. Anything I can do ... I understand you have a private ambulance waiting outside.’
