if.thunderball-第8节

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unch。　Ted　。　。　。　Ted。　You　there；　Ted？　Well；　then；　Sam；　look　after　Count　Lippe；　would　you；　Turkish　bath。〃
　
　Bond　had　listened　to　this　routine　for　a　whole　week；　noting　the　men　that　cut　minutes　off　their　duty　and　got　off　early　to　lunch；　noting　the　ones　that　stayed　to　do　their　full　share　of　the　last　chores。　Now；　from　the　open　door　of　the　empty　shower　room；　he　called　back；　in　Sam's　deep　voice；　〃Okay；　Mr。　Beresford；〃　and　waited　for　the　crisp　squeak　of　the　gym　shoes　on　the　linoleum。　There　it　was！　The　brief　pause　halfway　down　the　corridor　and　then　the　double　sigh　as　the　staff　door　opened　and　shut。　Now　there　was　dead　silence　save　for　the　hum　of　the　fans。　The　treatment　rooms　were　empty。　Now　there　was　only　James　Bond　and　Count　Lippe。
　
　Bond　waited　a　moment　and　then　came　out　of　the　shower　room　and　softly　opened　the　door　to　the　Turkish　bath。　He　had　had　one　session　in　the　place；　just　to　get　the　geography　clear　in　his　mind；　and　the　scene　was　exactly　as　he　remembered。
　
　It　was　a　white　cubicle　treatment　room　like　all　the　others；　but　in　this　one　the　only　object　was　a　big　cream　metal…and…plastic　box　about　five　feet　tall　by　four　feet　square。　It　was　closed　on　all　sides　but　the　top。　The　front　of　the　big　cabinet　was　hinged　to　allow　a　patient　to　climb　in　and　sit　inside　and　there　was　a　hole　in　the　top　with　a　foam…rubber　support　for　the　nape　of　the　neck　and　the　chin；　through　which　the　patient's　head　emerged。　The　rest　of　his　body　was　exposed　to　the　heat　from　many　rows　of　naked　electric　bulbs　inside　the　cabinet　and　the　degree　of　heat　was　thermostatically　controlled　by　a　dial　at　the　back　of　the　cabinet。　It　was　a　simple　sweat　box；　designed；　as　Bond　had　noticed　on　his　previous　visit　to　the　room；　by　the　Medikalischer　Maschinenbau　G。m。b。H。；　44　Franziskanerstrasse；　Ulm；　Bavaria。
　
　The　cabinet　faced　away　from　the　door。　At　the　hiss　of　the　hydraulic　fastener；　Count　Lippe　said　angrily；　〃Goddammit；　Beresford。　Let　me　out　of　this　thing。　I'm　sweating　like　a　pig。〃
　
　〃You　said　you　wanted　it　hot；　sir。〃　Bond's　amiable　voice　was　a　good　approximation　to　the　chief　attendant's。
　
　〃Don't　argue；　goddammit。　Let　me　out　of　here。〃
　
　〃I　don't　think　you　quite　realize　the　value　of　heat　in　the　H…cure；　sir。　Heat　resolves　many　of　the　toxins　in　the　blood　stream　and　for　the　matter　of　that　in　the　muscle　tissue　also。　A　patient　suffering　from　your　condition　of　pronounced　toxemia　will　find　much　benefit　from　the　heat　treatment。〃　Bond　found　the　H…lingo　rattling　quite　easily　off　the　tongue。　He　was　not　worried　about　the　consequences　to　Beresford。　He　would　have　the　solid　alibi　of　luncheon　in　the　staff　canteen。
　
　〃Don't　give　me　that　crap。　I　tell　you；　let　me　out　of　here。〃
　
　Bond　examined　the　dial　on　the　back　of　the　machine。　The　needle　stood　at　120。　What　should　he　give　the　man？　The　dial　ran　up　to　200　degrees。　That　much　might　roast　him　alive。　This　was　only　to　be　a　punishment；　not　a　murder。　Perhaps　180　would　be　a　just　retribution。　Bond　clicked　the　knob　up　to　180。　He　said；　〃I　think　just　half　an　hour　of　real　heat　will　do　you　the　world　of　good；　sir。〃　Bond　dropped　the　sham　voice。　He　added　sharply；　〃And　if　you　catch　fire　you　can　sue。〃
　
　The　dripping　head　tried　to　turn；　failed。　Bond　moved　toward　the　door。　Count　Lippe　now　had　a　new　voice；　controlled　but　desperate。　He　said　woodenly；　concealing　the　knowledge　and　the　hate；　〃Give　you　a　thousand　pounds　and　we're　quits。〃　He　heard　the　hiss　of　the　open　door。　〃Ten　thousand。　All　right　then；　fifty。〃
　
　Bond　closed　the　door　firmly　behind　him　and　walked　quickly　down　the　corridor　to　put　on　his　clothes　and　get　out。　Behind　him；　deeply　muffled；　came　the　first　shout　for　help。　Bond　closed　his　ears。　There　was　nothing　that　a　painful　week　in　hospital　and　plenty　of　gentian　violet　or　tannic　acid　jelly　wouldn't　cure。　But　it　did　cross　his　mind　that　a　man　who　could　offer　a　bribe　of　fifty　thousand　pounds　must　be　either　very　rich　or　have　some　very　urgent　reason　for　needing　freedom　of　movement。　It　was　surely　too　much　to　pay　just　for　avoidance　of　pain。
　
　***
　
　James　Bond　was　right。　The　oute　of　this　rather　childish　trial　of　strength　between　two　extremely　tough　and　ruthless　men；　in　the　bizarre　surroundings　of　a　nature　clinic　in　Sussex；　was　to　upset；　if　only　in　a　minute　fashion；　the　exactly　timed　machinery　of　a　plot　that　was　about　to　shake　the　governments　of　the　Western　world。
　
　5。　S。P。E。C。T。R。E。
　
　The　Boulevard　Haussmann；　in　the　VIIIth　and　IXth　Arrondissements；　stretches　from　the　Rue　du　Faubourg　St。　Honoré　to　the　Opéra。　It　is　very　long　and　very　dull；　but　it　is　perhaps　the　solidest　street　in　the　whole　of　Paris。　Not　the　richest…the　Avenue　d'Iéna　has　that　distinction　…but　rich　people　are　not　necessarily　solid　people　and　too　many　of　the　landlords　and　tenants　in　the　Avenue　d'Iéena　have　names　ending　in　〃escu；〃　〃ovitch；〃　〃ski；〃　and　〃stein；〃　and　these　are　sometimes　not　the　endings　of　respectable　names。　Moreover；　the　Avenue　d'Iéna　is　almost　entirely　residential。　The　occasional　discreet　brass　plates　giving　the　name　of　a　holding　pany　in　Liechtenstein　or　in　the　Bahamas　or　the　Canton　de　Vaud　in　Switzerland　are　there　for　tax　purposes　only…the　cover　names　for　private　family　fortunes　seeking　alleviation　from　the　punitive　burden　of　the　Revenue；　or；　more　briefly；　tax…dodging。　The　Boulevard　Haussmann　is　not　like　that。　The　massive；　turn…of…the…century；　bastard　Second　Empire　buildings　in　heavily　ornamented　brick　and　stucco　are　the　〃sieges；〃　the　seats；　of　important　businesses。　Here　are　the　head　offices　of　the　gros　industriels　from　Lille；　Lyons；　Bordeaux；　Clermont　Ferrand；　the　locaux　of　the　gros　légumes　；　the　〃big　vegetables〃　in　cotton；　artificial　silk；　coal；　wine；　steel；　and　shipping。　If；　among　them；　there　are　some　fly…by…nights　concealing　a　lack　of　serious　capital…　des　fonds　sérieux　…behind　a　good　address；　it　would　only　be　fair　to　admit　that　such　men　of　paper　exist　also　behind　the　even　solider　frontages　of　Lombard　and　Wall　Streets。
　
　It　is　appropriate　that　among　this　extremely　respectable　pany　of　tenants；　suitably　diversified　by　a　couple　of　churches；　a　small　museum　and　the　French　Shakespeare　Society；　you　should　also　find　the　headquarters　of　charitable　organizations。　At　No。　136　bis　；　for　instance；　a　discreetly　glittering　brass　plate　says：　〃F。I。R。C。O。〃　and；　underneath：　〃　Fraternité　Internationale　de　la　Résistance　Contre　l'Oppression　。〃　If　you　were　interested　in　this　organization；　either　as　an　idealist　or　because　you　were　a　salesman　of；　say；　office　furniture；　and　you　pressed　the　very　clean　porcelain　bell　button；　the　door　would　in　due　course　be　opened　by　an　entirely　typical　French　concierge。　If　your　business　was　serious　or　obviously　well…meaning；　the　concierge　would　show　you　across　a　rather　dusty　hall　to　tall；　bogus　Directoire　double　doors　adjoining　the　over…ornamented　cage　of　a　shaky…looking　lift。　Inside　the　doors　you　would　be　greeted　by　exactly　what　you　had　expected　to　see…a　large　dingy　room　needing　a　fresh　coat　of　its　café…au…lait　paint；　in　which　half　a　dozen　men　sat　at　cheap　desks　and　typed　or　wrote　amidst　the　usual　accouterments　of　a　busy　organization…IN　and　OUT　baskets；　telephones；　in　this　case　the　old…fashioned　standard　ones　that　are　typical　of　such　an　office　in　this　part　of　Paris；　and　dark　green　metal　filing　cabinets　in　which　drawers　stand　open。　If　you　were　observant　of　small　details；　you　might　register　that　all　the　men　were　of　approximately　the　same　age　group；　between　thirty　and　forty；　and　that　in　an　office　where　you　would　have　expected　to　find　women　doing　the　secretarial　work；　there　were　none。
　
　Inside　the　tall　door　you　would　receive　the　slightly　defensive　wele　appropriate　to　a　busy　organization　accustomed　to　the　usual　proportion　of　cranks　and　time…wasters　but；　in　response　to　your　serious　inquiry；　the　face　of　the　man　at　the　desk　near　the　door　would　clear　and　bee　cautiously　helpful。　The　aims　of　the　Fraternity？　We　exist；　monsieur；　to　keep　alive　the　ideals　that　flourished　during　the　last　war　among　members　of　all　Resistance　groups。　No；　monsieur；　we　are　entirely　unpolitical。　Our　funds？　They　e　from　modest　subscriptions　from　our　members　and　from　certain　private　persons　who　share　our　aims。　You　have　perhaps　a　relative；　a　member　of　a　Resistance　group；　whose　whereabouts　you　seek？　Certainly；　monsieur。　The　name？　Gregor　Karlski；　last　heard　of　with　Mihailovitch　in　the　summer　of　1943。　Jules！　（He　might　turn　to　a　particular　man　and　call　out。）　Karlski；　Gregor。　Mihailovitch；　1943。　Jules　would　go　to　a　cabinet　and　there　would　be　a　brief　pause。　Then　the　reply　might　e　back；　Dead。　Killed　in　the　bombing　of　the　General's　headquarters；　October　21st；　1943。　I　regret；　monsieur。　Is　there　anything　further　we　can　do　for　you？　Then　perhaps　you　would　care　to　have　some　of　our　literature。　Forgive　me　for　not　having　time　to　spare　to　give　you　more　details　of　FIRCO　myself。　But　you　will　find　everything　there。　This　happens　to　be　a　particularly　busy　day。　This　is　the　International　Refugee　Year　and　we　have　many　inquiries　such　as　yours　from　all　over　the　world。　Good　afternoon；　monsieur。　Pas　de　quoi　。　So；　or　more　or　less　so；　it　would　be　and　you　would　go　out　on　to　the　Boulevard　satisfied　and　even　impressed　with　an　organization　that　was　doing　its　excellent　if　rather　vague　work　with　so　much　dedication　and　efficiency。
　
　On　the　day　after　James　Bond　had　pleted　his　nature　cure　an