‘I think we want a good man from South America. We need a guy to oversee our operations in British Guiana. We oughta get smartened up in Venezuela. How come we never got further with that great scheme for blocking the Maracaibo Bar? Like robbing a blind man, given a suitable block ship. Just the threat of it would make the oil companies shell out – that’s a joke by the way – and go on shelling by way of protection. Then, if this narcotics spiel is going to be important, we can’t do without Mexico. How about Mr Arosio of Mexico City?’
‘I am not knowing this gentleman.’
‘Rosy? Oh, he’s a great guy. Runs the Green Light Transportation System. Drugs and girls into L.A. Never been caught yet. Reliable operator. Got no affiliates. Your people’ll know about him. Why not check with them and then we’ll put it up to the others? They’ll go along with our say-so.’
‘Is good. And now, Mister S. Have you anything to report about your own employer? On his recent visit to Moscow, I understand that he expressed satisfaction with your efforts in this area. It is a matter for gratification that there should be such close co-operation between his subversive efforts and our own. Both our chiefs are expecting much in the future from our union with the Mafia. Myself I am doubting. Mr Gengerella is undoubtedly a valuable link, but it is my impression that these people are only being activated by money. What is it that you are thinking?’
‘You’ve said it, Mr Hendriks. In the opinion of my chief, the Mafia’s first and only consideration is the Mafia. It has always been so and it always will be so. My Mister C. is not expecting great results in the States. Even the Mafia can’t buck the anti-Cuban feeling there. But he thinks we can achieve plenty in the Caribbean by giving them odd jobs to do. They can be very effective. It would certainly oil the wheels if your people would use the Mafia as a pipeline for this narcotics business. They’ll turn your million-dollar investment into ten. They’ll grab the nine out of it of course. But that’s not peanuts, and it’ll tie them in to you. Think you could arrange that? It’ll give Leroy G. some good news to report when he gets home. As for Mister C., he seems to be going along all right. Flora was a body-blow but, largely thanks to the Americans leaning on Cuba the way they do, he’s kept the country together. If the Americans once let up on their propaganda and needling and so forth, perhaps even make a friendly gesture or two, all the steam’ll go out of the little man. I don’t often see him. He leaves me alone. Likes to keep his nose clean, I guess. But I get all the co-operation I need from the D.S.S. Okay? Well let’s go see if the folks are ready to move. It’s eleven-thirty and the Bloody Bay Belle is due to be on her way at twelve. Guess it’s going to be quite a fun day. Pity our Chiefs aren’t going to be along to see the limey eye get his chips.’
‘Ha!’ said Mr Hendriks noncommittally.
James Bond moved away from the door. He heard Mr Scaramanga’s pass key in the lock. He looked up and yawned.
Mr Scaramanga and Mr Hendriks looked down at him. Their expressions were vaguely interested and reflective. It was as if he were a bit of steak and they were wondering whether to have it done rare or medium rare.
13 | HEAR THE TRAIN BLOW!
At twelve o’clock they all assembled in the lobby. Scaramanga had added a broad-brimmed white Stetson to his immaculate tropical attire. He looked like the smartest plantation owner in the South. Mr Hendriks wore his usual stuffy suit, now topped with a grey Homburg. Bond thought that he should have grey suede gloves and an umbrella. The four hoods were wearing calypso shirts outside their slacks. Bond was pleased. If they were carrying guns in their waistbands, the shirts would hinder the draw. Cars were drawn up outside with Scaramanga’s Thunderbird in the lead. Scaramanga walked up to the desk. Nick Nicholson was standing washing his hands in invisible soap and looking helpful. ‘All set? Everything loaded on the train? Green Harbour been told? Okay, then. Where’s that sidekick of yours, that man Travis? Haven’t seen him around today.’
Nick Nicholson looked serious. ‘He got an abscess in his tooth, sir. Real bad. Had to send him in to Sav’ La Mar to have it out. He’ll be okay by this afternoon.’
‘Too bad. Dock him half a day’s pay. No room for sleepers on this outfit. We’re short-handed as it is. Should have had his snappers attended to before he took the job on. ’Kay?’
‘Very good, Mr Scaramanga. I’ll tell him.’
