‘Well, of course we do have plenty of those sort of gatherings. Very welcome to the Tourist Board.’ The Chief of Immigration smiled conspiratorially at Bond as if he had just given away a closely guarded secret. ‘But in the last two weeks we’ve only had a Moral Rearmament Group at the Emerald Wave and the Tiptop Biscuit people at the Royal Bahamian. They’ve gone now. Quite the usual convention pattern. All very respectable.’
‘That’s just it, Mr Pitman. The people I’m looking for, the people who may have arranged to steal this plane, will certainly take pains to look respectable and behave in a respectable fashion. We’re not looking for a bunch of flashy crooks. We think these must be very big people indeed. Now, is there anything like that on the island, a group of people like that?’
‘Well,’ the Chief of Immigration smiled broadly, ‘of course we’ve got our annual treasure hunt going on.’
The Deputy Governor barked a quick, deprecating laugh. ‘Now steady on, Mr Pitman. Surely we don’t want them to get mixed up in all this, or heaven knows where we shall end. I can’t believe Commander Bond wants to bother his head over a lot of rich beachcombers.’
The Commissioner of Police said doubtfully, ‘The only thing is, sir – they do have a yacht, and a small plane for the matter of that. And I did hear that a lot of shareholders in the swindle had come in lately. Those points do tally with what the Commander was asking about. I admit it’s ridiculous, but this man Largo’s respectable enough for Commander Bond’s requirements and his men have never once given us trouble. Unusual to have not even one case of drunkenness in a ship’s crew in nearly six months.’
And Bond had leapt at the flimsy thread and had pursued it for another two hours – in the Customs building and in the Commissioner’s office – and, as a result, he had gone walking in the town to see if he could get a look at Largo or any of his party or pick up any other shreds of gossip. As a result he had got a good look at Domino Vitali.
And now?
The taxi had arrived at the airport. Bond told the driver to wait and walked into the long low entrance hall just as the arrival of Larkin’s flight was being announced over the Tannoy. He knew there would be the usual delay for customs and immigration. He went to the souvenir shop and bought a copy of the
Bond swung round. It was! It was Felix Leiter!
Leiter, his C.I.A. companion on some of the most thrilling cases in Bond’s career, grinned and thrust the steel hook that was his right hand under Bond’s arm. ‘Take it easy, friend. Dick Tracy will tell all when we get out of here. Bags are out front. Let’s go.’
Bond said, ‘Well, Goddammit! You old so-and-so! Did you know it was going to be me?’
‘Sure. C.I.A. knows all.’
At the entrance Leiter had his luggage, which was considerable, put aboard Bond’s taxi, and told the driver to take it to the Royal Bahamian. A man standing beside an undistinguished-looking black Ford Consul saloon left the car and came up. ‘Mr Larkin? I’m from the Hertz company. This is the car you ordered. We hope she’s what you want. You did specify something conventional.’
Leiter glanced casually at the car. ‘Looks all right. I just want a car that’ll go. None of those ritzy jobs with only room for a small blonde with a sponge bag. I’m here to do property work – not jazz it up.’
‘May I see your New York licence, sir? Right. Then if you’ll just sign here … and I’ll make a note of the number of your Diner’s Club card. When you go, leave the car anywhere you like and just notify us. We’ll collect it. Have a good holiday, sir.’
They got into the car. Bond took the wheel. Leiter said that he’d have to practise a bit on what he called ‘this Limey southpaw routine’ of driving on the left, and anyway he’d be interested to see if Bond had improved his cornering since their last drive together.
When they were out of the airport Bond said, ‘Now go ahead and tell. Last time we met you were with Pinkertons. What’s the score?’
