‘Drafted. Just damned well drafted. Hell, anyone would think there was a war on. You see, James, once you’ve worked for C.I.A., you’re automatically put on the reserve of officers when you leave. Unless you’ve been cashiered for not eating the code-book under fire or something. And apparently my old Chief, Allen Dulles that is, just didn’t have the men to go round when the President sounded the fire alarm. So I and twenty or so other guys were just pulled in – drop everything, twenty-four hours to report. Hell! I thought the Russians had landed! And then they tell me the score and to pack my bathing trunks and my spade and bucket and come on down to Nassau. So of course I griped like hell. Asked them if I shouldn’t brush up on my Canasta game and take some quick lessons in the Cha-cha. So then they unbuttoned and told me I was to team up with you down here and I thought maybe if that old bastard of yours, N. or M. or whatever you call him, had sent you down here with your old equalizer, there might be something cooking in the pot after all. So I picked up the gear you’d asked for from Admin., packed the bow and arrows instead of the spade and bucket, and here I am. And that’s that. Now you tell, you old sonofabitch. Hell, it’s good to see you.’
Bond took Leiter through the whole story, point by point from the moment he had been summoned to M.’s office the morning before. When he came to the shooting outside his headquarters, Leiter stopped him.
‘Now what do you make of that, James? In my book, that’s a pretty funny coincidence. Have you been fooling around with anybody’s wife lately? Sounds more like around The Loop in Chicago than a mile or so from Piccadilly.’
Bond said seriously, ‘It makes no sense to me, and none to anyone else. The only man who might have had it in for me, recently that is, is a crazy bastard I met down at a sort of clinic place I had to go to on some blasted medical grounds.’ Bond, to Leiter’s keen pleasure, rather sheepishly gave details of his ‘cure’ at Shrublands. ‘I bowled this man out as a member of a Chinese Tong, one of their secret societies, the Red Lightning Tong. He must have heard me getting the gen on his outfit from Records – on an open line from a call box in the place. Next thing, he damned near managed to murder me. Just for a lark, and to get even, I did my best to roast him alive.’ Bond gave the details. ‘Nice quiet place, Shrublands. You’d be surprised how carrot juice seems to affect people.’
‘Where was this lunatic asylum?’
‘Place called Washington. Modest little place compared with yours. Not far from Brighton.’
‘And the letter was posted from Brighton.’
‘That’s the hell of a long shot.’
‘I’ll try another. One of the points our chaps brought up was that if a plane was to be stolen at night and landed at night, a full moon would be the hell of an aid to the job. But the plane was taken five days after the full. Just supposing your roast chicken was the letter-sender. And supposing the roasting forced him to delay sending the letter while he recovered. His employers would be pretty angry. Yes?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And supposing they gave orders for him to be rubbed for inefficiency. And supposing the killer got to him just as he got to you to settle his private account. From what you tell me he wouldn’t have lain down under what you did to him. Well, now. Just supposing all that. It adds up, doesn’t it?’
Bond laughed, partly in admiration. ‘You’ve been taking mescalin or something. It’s a damned good sequence for a comic strip, but these things don’t happen in real life.’
‘Planes with atom bombs don’t get stolen in real life. Except that they do. You’re slowing down, James. How many people would believe the files on some of the cases you and I have got mixed up in? Don’t give me that crap about real life. There ain’t no such animal.’
Bond said seriously, ‘Well, look here, Felix. Tell you what I’ll do. There’s just enough sense in your story, so I’ll put it on the machine to M. tonight and see if the Yard can get anywhere with it. They could check with the clinic and the hospital in Brighton, if that’s where he was taken, and they may be able to get on from there. Trouble is, wherever they get, there’s nothing left of the man but his shoes, and I doubt if they’ll catch up with the man on the motorbike. It looked a real pro job to me.’
‘Why not? These hi-jackers sound like pros. It’s a pro plan. It all fits all right. You go ahead and put it on the wire and don’t be ashamed of saying it was my idea. My medal collection has got to looking a bit thin since I left the outfit.’
They pulled up under the portico of the Royal Bahamian and Bond gave the keys to the parking attendant. Leiter checked in and they went up to his room and sent for two double dry Martinis on the rocks and the menu.
