ian fleming.casino royale-第1节

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　The　scent　and　smoke　and　sweat　of　a　casino　are　nauseating　at　three　in　the　morning。　Then　the　soul…erosion　produced　by　high　gambling　…　a　post　of　greed　and　fear　and　nervous　tension　…　bees　unbearable　and　the　senses　awake　and　revolt　from　it。
　James　Bond　suddenly　knew　that　he　was　tired。　He　always　knew　when　his　body　or　his　mind　had　had　enough　and　he　always　acted　on　the　knowledge。　This　helped　him　to　avoid　staleness　and　the　sensual　bluntness　that　breeds　mistakes。
　He　shifted　himself　unobtrusively　away　from　the　roulette　he　had　been　playing　and　went　to　stand　for　a　moment　at　the　brass　rail　which　surrounded　breast…high　the　top　table　in　the　salle　privée。
　Le　Chiffre　was　still　playing　and　still；　apparently；　winning。　There　was　an　untidy　pile　of　flecked　hundred…mille　plaques　in　front　of　him。　In　the　shadow　of　his　thick　left　arm　there　nestled　a　discreet　stack　of　the　big　yellow　ones　worth　half　a　million　francs　each。
　Bond　watched　the　curious；　impressive　profile　for　a　time；　and　then　he　shrugged　his　shoulders　to　lighten　his　thoughts　and　moved　away。
　The　barrier　surrounding　the　caisse　es　as　high　as　your　chin　and　the　caissier；　who　is　generally　nothing　more　than　a　minor　bank　clerk；　sits　on　a　stool　and　dips　into　his　piles　of　notes　and　plaques。　These　are　ranged　on　shelves。　They　are　on　a　level；　behind　the　protecting　barrier；　with　your　groin。　The　caissier　has　a　cosh　and　a　gun　to　protect　him；　and　to　heave　over　the　barrier　and　steal　some　notes　and　then　vault　back　and　get　out　of　the　casino　through　the　passages　and　doors　would　be　impossible。　And　the　caissiers　generally　work　in　pairs。
　Bond　reflected　on　the　problem　as　he　collected　the　sheaf　of　hundred　thousand　and　then　the　sheaves　of　ten　thousand　franc　notes。　With　another　part　of　his　mind；　he　had　a　vision　of　tomorrow's　regular　morning　meeting　of　the　casino　mittee。
　'Monsieur　Le　Chiffre　made　two　million。　He　played　his　usual　game。　Miss　Fairchild　made　a　million　in　an　hour　and　then　left。　She　executed　three　〃bancos〃　of　Monsieur　Le　Chiffre　within　an　hour　and　then　left。　She　played　with　coolness。　Monsieur　le　Vite　de　Villorin　made　one　million　two　at　roulette。　He　was　playing　the　maximum　on　the　first　and　last　dozens。　He　was　lucky。　Then　the　Englishman；　Mister　Bond；　increased　his　winnings　to　exactly　three　million　over　the　two　days。　He　was　playing　a　progressive　system　on　red　at　table　five。　Duclos；　the　chef　de　partie；　has　the　details。　It　seems　that　he　is　persevering　and　plays　in　maximums。　He　has　luck。　His　nerves　seem　good。　On　the　soirée；　the　chemin…de…fer　won　x；　the　baccarat　won　y　and　the　roulette　won　z。　The　boule；　which　was　again　badly　frequented；　still　makes　its　expenses。'
　'Merci；　Monsieur　Xavier。'
　'Merci；　Monsieur　le　President。'
　Or　something　like　that；　thought　Bond　as　he　pushed　his　way　through　the　swing　doors　of　the　salle　privée　and　nodded　to　the　bored　man　in　evening　clothes　whose　job　it　is　to　bar　your　entry　and　your　exit　with　the　electric　foot…switch　which　can　lock　the　doors　at　any　hint　of　trouble。
　And　the　casino　mittee　would　balance　its　books　and　break　up　to　its　homes　or　cafés　for　lunch。
　As　for　robbing　the　caisse；　in　which　Bond　himself　was　not　personally　concerned；　but　only　interested；　he　reflected　that　it　would　take　ten　good　men；　that　they　would　certainly　have　to　kill　one　or　two　employees；　and　that　anyway　you　probably　couldn't　find　ten　non…squeal　killers　in　France；　or　in　any　other　country　for　the　matter　of　that。
　As　he　gave　a　thousand　francs　to　the　vestiaire　and　walked　down　the　steps　of　the　casino；　Bond　made　up　his　mind　that　Le　Chiffre　would　in　no　circumstances　try　to　rob　the　caisse　and　he　put　the　contingency　out　of　his　mind。　Instead　he　explored　his　present　physical　sensations。　He　felt　the　dry；　unfortable　gravel　under　his　evening　shoes；　the　bad；　harsh　taste　in　his　mouth　and　the　slight　sweat　under　his　arms。　He　could　feel　his　eyes　filling　their　sockets。　The　front　of　his　face；　his　nose　and　antrum；　were　congested。　He　breathed　the　sweet　night　air　deeply　and　focused　his　senses　and　his　wits。　He　wanted　to　know　if　anyone　had　searched　his　room　since　he　had　left　it　before　dinner。
　He　walked　across　the　broad　boulevard　and　through　the　gardens　to　the　H？tel　Splendide。　He　smiled　at　the　concierge　who　gave　him　his　key　…　No　45　on　the　first　floor　…　and　took　the　cable。
　It　was　from　Jamaica　and　read：
　
　KINGSTONJA　XXXX　XXXXXX　XXXX　XXX
　BOND　SPLENDIDE　ROYALE…LES…EAUX　SEINE　INFERIEURE
　HAVANA　CIGAR　PRODUCTION　ALL　CUBAN　FACTORIES　1915
　TEN　MILLION　REPEAT　TEN　MILLION　STOP　HOPE　THIS　FIGURE
　YOU　REQUIRE　REGARDS。 DASILVA
　
　This　meant　that　ten　million　francs　was　on　the　way　to　him。　It　was　the　reply　to　a　request　Bond　had　sent　that　afternoon　through　Paris　to　his　headquarters　in　London　asking　for　more　funds。　Paris　had　spoken　to　London　where　Clements；　the　head　of　Bond's　department；　had　spoken　to　M；　who　had　smiled　wryly　and　told　'The　Broker'　to　fix　it　with　the　Treasury。
　Bond　had　once　worked　in　Jamaica　and　his　cover　on　the　Royale　assignment　was　that　of　a　very　rich　client　of　Messrs　Caffery；　the　principal　import　and　export　firm　of　Jamaica。　So　he　was　being　controlled　through　Jamaica；　through　a　taciturn　man　who　was　head　of　the　picture　desk　on　the　Daily　Gleaner；　the　famous　newspaper　of　the　Caribbean。
　This　man　on　the　Gleaner；　whose　name　was　Fawcett；　had　been　book…keeper　for　one　of　the　leading　turtle…fisheries　on　the　Cayman　Islands。　One　of　the　men　from　the　Caymans　who　had　volunteered　on　the　outbreak　of　war；　he　had　ended　up　as　a　Paymaster's　clerk　in　a　small　Naval　Intelligence　organization　in　Malta。　At　the　end　of　the　war；　when；　with　a　heavy　heart；　he　was　due　to　return　to　the　Caymans；　he　was　spotted　by　the　section　of　the　Secret　Service　concerned　with　the　Caribbean。　He　was　strenuously　trained　in　photography　and　in　some　other　arts　and；　with　the　quiet　connivance　of　an　influential　man　in　Jamaica；　found　his　way　to　the　picture　desk　of　the　Gleaner。
　In　the　intervals　between　sifting　photographs　submitted　by　the　great　agencies　…　Keystone；　Wide…World；　Universal；　INP；　and　Reuter…Photo　…　he　would　get　peremptory　instructions　by　telephone　from　a　man　he　had　never　met　to　carry　out　certain　simple　operations　requiring　nothing　but　absolute　discretion；　speed；　and　accuracy。　For　these　occasional　services　he　received　twenty　pounds　a　month　paid　into　his　account　with　the　Royal　Bank　of　Canada　by　a　fictitious　relative　in　England。
　Fawcett's　present　assignment　was　to　relay　immediately　to　Bond；　full　rates；　the　text　of　messages　which　he　received　at　home　by　telephone　from　his　anonymous　contact。　He　had　been　told　by　this　contact　that　nothing　he　would　be　asked　to　send　would　arouse　the　suspicion　of　the　Jamaican　post　office。　So　he　was　not　surprised　to　find　himself　suddenly　appointed　string　correspondent　for　the　'Maritime　Press　and　Photo　Agency'；　with　press…collect　facilities　to　France　and　England；　on　a　further　monthly　retainer　of　ten　pounds。
　He　felt　secure　and　encouraged；　had　visions　of　a　BEM　and　made　the　first　payment　on　a　Morris　Minor。　He　also　bought　a　green　eye…shade　which　he　had　long　coveted　and　which　helped　him　to　impose　his　personality　on　the　picture　desk。
　Some　of　this　background　to　his　cable　passed　through　Bond's　mind。　He　was　used　to　oblique　control　and　rather　liked　it。　He　felt　it　feather…bedded　him　a　little；　allowed　him　to　give　or　take　an　hour　or　two　in　his　munications　with　M。　He　knew　that　this　was　probably　a　fallacy；　that　probably　there　was　another　member　of　the　Service　at　Royale…les…Eaux　who　was　reporting　independently；　but　it　did　give　the　illusion　that　he　wasn't　only　150　miles　across　the　Channel　from　that　deadly　office　building　near　Regent's　Park；　being　watched　and　judged　by　those　few　cold　brains　that　made　the　whole　show　work。　Just　as　Fawcett；　the　Cayman　Islander　in　Kingston；　knew　that　if　he　bought　that　Morris　Minor　outright　instead　of　signing　the　hire…purchase　agreement；　someone　in　London　would　probably　know　and　want　to　know　where　the　money　had　e　from。
　Bond　read　the　cable　twice。　He　tore　a　telegram　form　off　the　pad　on　the　desk　（why　give　them　carbon　copies？）　and　wrote　his　reply　in　capital　letters：
　
　THANKS　INFORMATION　SHOULD　SUFFICE　…　BOND
　
　He　handed　this　to　the　concierge　and　put　the　cable　signed　'Dasilva'　in　his　pocket。　The　employers　（if　any）　of　the　concierge　could　bribe　a　copy　out　of　the　local　post　office；　if　the　concierge　hadn't　already　steamed　the　envelope　open　or　read　the　cable　upside　down　in　Bond's　hands。
　He　took　his　key　and　said　good　night　and　turned　to　the　stairs；　shaking　his　head　at　the　liftman。　Bond　knew　what　an　obliging　danger…signal　a　lift　could　be。　He　didn't　expect　anyone　to　be　moving　on　the　first　floor；　but　he　preferred　to　be　prudent。
　Walking　quietly　up　on　the　balls　of　his　feet；　he　regretted　the　hubris　of　his　reply　to　M　via　Jamaica。　As　a　gambler　he　knew　it　was　a　mistake　to　rely　on　too　small　a　capital。　Anyway；　M　probably　wouldn't　let　him　have　any　more。　He　shrugged　his　shoulders　and　turned　off　the　stairs　into　the　corridor　and　walked　softly　to　the　door　of　his　room。
　Bond　knew　exactly　where　the　switch　was　and　it　was　with　one　flow　of　motion　that　he　stood　on　the　threshold　with　the　door　full　open；　the　light　on　and　a　gun　in　his　hand。　The　safe；　empty　room　sneered　at　him。　He　ignored　the　half…open　door　of　the　bathroom　and；　locking　himself　in；　he　turned　up　the　bed…light　and　the　mirror…light　and　threw　h