johngardner.winloseordie-第27节

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ummed。　This　was　what　always　assaulted　the　senses；　when　the　ship　was　alive　and　at　sea。
　Ahead　of　him　there　were　the　other　cabin　doors；　usually　used　by　executive　officers；　who　were　now　forced　to　double…up　on　messdecks　and　in　other　areas　of　the　ship。　Beyond；　there　was　a　further　bulkhead　where　another　marine　stood　on　duty。　Through　there；　he　knew　were　the　cabins　occupied　by　the　Wren　detachment；　who　had　ousted　the　junior　officers。
　Before　stepping　over　the　first　bulkhead。　Bond　gave　rapid　orders　to　the　flushed　marine　who　had　hanged　on　his　door　…　'I　don't　care　who　it　is。　Admirals　or　special　duty　staff　who　came　aboard　with　them；　you　are　to　check　who　is　in　each　of　these　cabins；　and　also　have　a　list　ready　for　me；　I　want　to　know　who　was　where　over　the　past　hour　at　least。　And　get　one　of　the　doctors　as　quickly　as　you　can。　You'd　best　get　your　sergeant　down　here　to　give　you　a　hand。　My　authority。　You　know　who　I　am？1
　The　young　marine　nodded；　and　Bond　turned　to　Clover；　'Right；　the　body's　where'。'　In　the　heads　used　for　your　Wrens？〃
　She　gave　him　a　sickly；　'Yes。'　and　Bond　brushed　past　her　and　started　to　run　down　the　passageway。　Behind　him　he　heard　the　young　marine　banging　on　the　first　cabin　door　with　his　rifle　butt。
At　the　second　bulkhead　he　told　the　marine　on　duty　to　stay　alert　and　asked　him　if　any　of　the　officers；　or　their　men；　had　gone　past　him　into　the　prohibited　area　where　the　Wrens　were。
　〃I've　only　been　hare　for　fifteen　minutes；　sir。　We　had　to　reorganise　the　guard　duties　when　the　Captain　called　all　hands　to　close　up。'
*S〃　how　long　was　the　area　unguarded？'
〃Not　sure；　sir。　Fifteen　minutes　at　the　most。'
　Clover　led　him　through　the　passageway　adjacent　to　the　cabins　occupied　by　the　Wrens。　A　rather　startled　girl　in　pyjamas　poked　her　head　out　of　one　of　the　doors。　'Back　inside；　Deeley。'　Clover　snapped　sharply；　and　the　figure　disappeared。
　There　was　a　trail　of　bloody　footprints；　ending　abruptly　in　a　spatter　of　blood；　around　twelve　feel　from　the　elosed　bulkhead　door　which　led　to　the　heads。　For　some　reason　a　query　ran　through　Bond's　mind。　The　ablutions　and　lavatories　on　Royal　Navy　ships　were　always　known　as　the　'heads'　…　plural　…　while　the　US　Navy　called　them　'head'　…　singular。　It　was　the　other　way　around　with　the　HUD　in　fighter　aircraft。　The　Americans　called　it　the　Wertds…up…Display；　the　Brits　translated　it　as　Head…up…Display。　Any　odd　thoughts　on　British　and　American　semantics　were　cleared　from　his　mind　as　he　opened　the　bulkhead　door。
　Clover　had　been　right；　the　place　was　like　an　abattoir；　awash　with　blood；　and　the　body　on　the　tiled　floor　rolled　with　the　ship；　giving　the　horrific　illusion　that　the　blood　was　still　pumping　from　it。
'You　touch　him？'
　Clover　shook　her　head；　lips　closed　tightly　as　though　she　was　fighting　the　urge　to　vomit；
　'Better　get　out。　Go　back　and　tell　one　of　those　marines　that　the　Doc　should　bring　down　a　couple　of　Sick　Bay　ratings　to　help　clean　up　the　mess。'
　？　I'll　do　that　from　the　nearest　'phone。'A　tall；　grey…haired　figure　stood　behind　them。　'Surgeon　mander　Grant；　Let's　take　a　look　at　the　cadaver。'
　Bond　had　met　Grant　for　a　few　seconds　in　the　ward…room　on　his　arrival　aboard。　The　Doc　appeared　to　be　a　no…nonsense　man；　of　few　words。　He　was　in　uniform　but　with　his　trousers　tucked　into　green　surgeon's　boots。　'Leave　him　to　me。　then　I'll　get　one　of　my　boys　down　with　a　spare　set　of　wellies　for　you。　Captain　Bond。　Blood's　the　very　devil　to　get　off。'
　Bond　nodded　and　stood　at　the　door　as　Grant　splashed　across　the　gore…swilled　tiled　deck。　He　bent　over　to　examine　the　body；　giving　a　little　grunt　of　disgust。　He　shook　his　head；　plodded　back　and　picked　up　the　telephone　inter　on　the　wall　in　the　passageway；　dialling　the　Sick　Bay　number。　'Barnes？　Right；　get　down　to　406。　Wellies　and　rubber　aprons。　One　spare　pair　of　wellies；　and　rustle　up　a　couple　of　lads　with　strong　stomachs；　。squeegees　and　buckets。　Quick　as　you　can。'
　He　turned　to　Bond。　〃Whoever　did　it　wasn't　taking　any　chances；　Captain　Bond。　They've　nearly　taken　his　head　off。　Neat　slit。　Ear　to　ear。　By　the　look　of　it；　someone　took　him　from　behind；　grabbed　his　hair　and　reached　over　with　something　very　sharp。　Who　is　he？'
'One　of　the　American　security。　Head　boy。　1　think。　Nasty。'
　'It　would　be　stupid　to　ask　if　he　had　any　enemies；　because　he　obviously　had　at　least　one　。　。　。'　He　trailed　off　as　his　two　Sick　Bay　attendants　arrived；　followed　by　a　pair　of　Ordinary　Seamen　carrying　mopping…up　gear。
　　lOh。　hell！'　One　of　the　Sick　Bay　attendants　looked　into　the　heads；　then　backed　away。
　'Just　give　Captain　Bond　the　boots；'　the　Surgeon　mander　said　quietly。　'Keep　the　cleaning　up　people　away　until　he's　finished。　Best　get　a　gurney　while　you're　at　it；　we'll　have　to　put　this　one　in　the　freezer。'
　Bond　kicked　off　his　shoes；　pulled　on　the　boots　and　made　his　way　towards　the　body。　It　was　Ed；　no　doubt　about　it。　and　he　had　died　atrociously。　Bond　was　even　concerned　about　moving　the　body：　afraid　the　head　would　part　from　the　neck；　for　the　slash　across　the　throat　had　been　long；　hard　and　deep。
　Pulling　back　the　sleeves　of　his　own　navy　blue　RN　issue　pullover。　Bond　turned　the　body　onto　its　side。　His　hands　were　wet　with　blood；　but　he　reached　into　the　dead　man's　pockets；　removing　a　wallet　and　two　other　pieces　of　ID。　He　was　about　to　let　the　body　drop　back　in　place　when　lie　heard　a　minute　scraping　sound　ing；　it　seemed；　from　under　the　Secret　Service　man's　right　shoulder。　Blood　up　to　his　elbow。　Bond　searched　with　his　hand　which　connected　with　metal。　He　pulled；　bringing　out　a　small；　battery…operated　dictating…machine。
　At　the　door　again；　arms　held　away　from　his　body；　Bond　told　the　surgeon　mander　that　he　could　get　the　place　cleared　up。
One　of　the　Sick　Bay　attendants　thoughtfully　came　forward　to　wipe　the　blood　from　his　arms。　He　nodded　thanks　and　set　off　back　towards　his　own　quarters。
　There　was　some　uproar　in　the　section　of　passageway　where　the　Admirals　and　their　respective　staffs　were　quartered。　A　marine　sergeant　raised　his　eyebrows　as　Bond　approached。　'Captain　Bond；　sir　。　。　。'　then　he　saw　the　blood；　and　the　dripping　miniature　dictating…machine。　'You　all　right；　sir？　Blimey；　that　genuine　claret；　sir？'
　'Freshly　bottled；　sergeant。　I'm　afraid。　We　have　a　murder　on　our　hands。　What's　the　situation　here？'
　'All　playing　up　nasty；　sir。　All　three　Admirals　are　on　the　bridge　with　the　Captain。　Admiral　Could　has　one　of　his　Flag　Officers　with　him；　a　Lieutenant　Brinkley；　Lieutenant　Camm　wants　permission　to　leave　his　quarters　。　。　。'
〃Nobody　leaves　。　。　。'　И　was　like　a　whipcrack　mand。
'That's　what　I've　told　them。　sir。　Posted　extra　sentries。'
'Good。　What　other　problems　have　we　got？'
　'Admiral　Gudeon　has　one　of　his　security　people　with　him　on　the　bridge；　the　other　iwo；　Mr　Stanley　Hare　and　Mr　Bruce　Trimble；　the　black　gentleman　…　they're　playing　merry　hell。　They　say　＇hey　should　be　with　（heir　man　at　the　whiff　of　any　incident。'
'But　they're　in　their　cabin？'
'Sir。〃　ihe　sergeant　acknowledged。
　〃Okay；　keep　them　there。　Tell　them　I'll　see　them　in　due　course。　The　Russians？'
　The　sergeant　sighed。　'Very　difficult；　sir。　All　speak　English；　but　they're　not　being　helpful。'
'The　lady？〃
　'Miss　Ratnikov？　She　seems　a　bit　distraught。　Seems　as　how　she　walked　into　the　Wrens'　heads　just　after　the　body　was　。　。　。'
　'Did　she　now。　You　will　inform　all　of　them　that　I'll　see　them；　independently；　in　my　cabin　within　the　hour。'
'Aye…aye；　sir。'
　？Just　keep　them　quiet；　sarge；　and　put　one　of　your　men　on　my　cabin；　I'll　be　going　up　to　the　bridge　soon。　Nobody　goes　into　my　quarters；　and　I　mean　nobody；　not　even　your　Captain　of　Marines；　without　my　saying　so。　Particularly　while　I'm　seeing　the　Captain　on　the　bridge。'
　The　sergeant　nodded。　'Good　as　done；　sir。'
　Bond　washed　the　blood　off　himself；　then　cleaned　the　dictating…machine；　and　took　a　quick　look　at　the　victim's　ID。　His　name　had　been　Edgar　Morgan；　and　it　was　clear　that　he　was　the　senior　officer　of　the　Secret　Service　team。　He　shuffled　through　the　wallet；　and　found　a　second　laminated　ID　card；　lucked　deep　into　a　。〃。ippered　pocket；　so　he　looked　at　the　photograph　of　Morgan　and　read　the　magic　words。　Mr　Morgan　was　not　regular　Secret　Service。　He　was　only　on　attachment　from　other　duties　in　Naval　Intelligence；　where　he　held　the　rank　of　mander。
　He　dried　off　the　dictating…machine　and　saw　that　（he　one　small　cassette　had　run　all　the　way　through。　He　checked　the　batteries。　then　operated　the　rewind。　The　tiny　tape　scrolled　back　and　he　pressed　the　Play　button；　saw　the　red　light　e　on；　and　then　adjusted　the　volume。　The　dead　Ed　Morgan's　voice　came　out　clear　from　the　tiny　speaker。
　'Report　Four。　To　be　translated　in　plain　cipher　and　squirted　at　first　opportunity　via　HMS　Invincible。　Number　23X5。　Request　all　detailed　background　on　following　names。　First；　Russian　officers；　possible　KGB　or　GRU。　Nikola　Ratnikov；　assigned　as　Russian　Naval　Attache；　Yevgeny　Stura；　Gennady　Novikov　and　Ivan　Tiblashin。　Also　request　further　information　on　the　following　members　of　the　British　Royal　Navy　。　；　。'　Bond's　eyes　widened　as　he　listened　to　this　particular　roll　of　honour。　'If　all　cleared　and　genuine。'　the　voice　continued；　'I　suggest　Dancer　cleared　for　RV　as　arranged。　If　not　cleared；　will　definitely　advise　abort　Stewards'　Meeting。　Repeat　。　。　。'　Then　came　the　other　sounds：　the　cry；　the　thump　as　the　small　metal　recorder　hit　the　flo