Devil May Care

Beast
    When Bond regained consciousness, it was to find himself being pushed and dragged over tarmac towards a helicopter, whose blades were whirring in the night. The air on his skin told him he’d been stripped to his underpants. His hands were tied behind his back and the commando knife had been removed. The pain in his skull was such that it was all he could do to keep from vomiting as he was pushed up into the helicopter. Inside, it was like a military aircraft with primitive seating for six at right angles to the pilots. Bond was thrust to the floor, where his ankles were tightly bound with nylon cord. A woman’s body – Scarlett’s, he presumed – was pressed up against his, and lashed to him, back to back. He could feel her bare skin on his.
    As the nausea rose inside him, Bond fought to recover any sense of what had happened. He recalled bright lights … Then nothing. The noise of the helicopter’s angry rotors pressed his ears, then it surged upwards and immediately banked violently, causing his weight to roll on to Scarlett, who let out a cry. Even in the wordless sound, Bond recognized her voice.
    ‘Scarlett?’ he said.
    A boot exploded against his mouth and a tooth broke from his jaw.
    ‘No talk.’
    Looking up, Bond saw that all six seats were occupied by armed guards. Six guns with their safety catches off pointedat him and Scarlett, while six pairs of unsmiling eyes bored into them. While the pain in his head increased with the passing of the minutes, his memory of events slowly started to return. The appearance of Chagrin was evidence that he had found Gorner’s Caspian secret, and he had little doubt that he was now on his way to the desert headquarters.
    Bond spat blood. He could see one positive aspect of his situation. He would never have found Gorner’s headquarters without help. The mountain had not come to Mohammed, but Mohammed, it seemed, was being airlifted to the mountain. Good.
    After about an hour, they lost height, and Bond sensed growing anxiety in the men. They landed without incident and he heard abrupt orders being given. The six guards made no move, but pointed their guns a little closer at their captives. Bond heard the sound of a diesel engine outside and presumed it was a fuel lorry. Sand blew in through the open loading bay.
    Finally, the doors were closed and they were on their way again. It was pointless to try to work out in which direction they were heading, so Bond allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness. He sought a way of reassuring Scarlett, but could communicate nothing through their touching skin.
    After what seemed a night-long journey, Bond felt the helicopter lower itself again. This time, as it hovered on the cushion of air above the sand, the six men stood up and, using rough hands and boots, got Bond and Scarlett to the open door. As the rotors died, they lowered the steps and pushed their captives on to the ground. Scarlett screamed as her naked ribs grazed the metal steps. The pair were moved over the sand till they came to a prepared track, about ten feet wide, on which stood an electrically drivencart, like a forklift truck. With guns held against their heads, they were manhandled on to a low platform at the back.
    The cart drove towards a dark hill of sand, perhaps sixty feet tall, like the wall of a desert fortress. As they approached, huge sliding doors parted to allow them entry. The belly of the beast, thought Bond, as the doors closed silently behind them.
    The cart moved forward on to a circular platform and stopped. There was a hiss of hydraulics and they began to sink. The platform descended within a larger tube, into which it was telescoped, and came to a halt some thirty feet below ground level. The cart was driven off the unrailed platform along a dark corridor and stopped outside a heavy door. The guards pulled Bond and Scarlett, still clamped together, off the back and pushed them through the door into a cell.
    Chagrin appeared in the doorway. ‘You wait here,’ he said. ‘There no way out. You move, we kill. We see you,’ he added, pointing to the ceiling.
    The door clanged shut and was bolted. The room was a cell about six feet by six. The walls were rock and the floor was sand.
    ‘Are you all right?’ said Bond.
    ‘Yes. Are you?’ Scarlett’s voice sounded weak and close to tears.
    ‘A headache. Nothing worse than I woke up with after a night playing cards at my boss’s club once. Benzedrine and champagne.