Devil May Care

deep, tight breath. ‘Scarlett, we’re going to have to leave Poppy behind. We won’t have time to find her. I’m going to go on that plane and you have to be with me. If I leave you, Gorner will throw you to the workers.’
    ‘No, I can’t do that,’ said Scarlett. ‘I came here to rescue my sister and I’m not leaving without her.’
    ‘No, you didn’t,’ said Bond. ‘You came here to be near at hand while I rescued her.’
    ‘Don’t split hairs with me, James. Poppy is my twin, my own flesh and blood, and I’m not leaving here without her.’
    ‘Please try not to be emotional, Scarlett. Just consider the facts. If we can stop Gorner today, then as early as tomorrow we can get people in here to close the plant and rescue her. Police, the army, everyone.’
    ‘No, James, I –’
    ‘Be quiet.’ Bond raised his voice. ‘In the mayhem, Gorner’s not going to be thinking about Poppy. She’s just another girl on the walkway to him. He’ll have bigger fish to fry. He’ll be thinking of his money, his plant, his machinery, his future. He won’t have time to worry about one girl, however dear to you she may be.’
    Scarlett turned her back on him. ‘You cold bastard,’ she said. ‘I should never have trusted you.’
    She lowered her face into her hands, knelt down on the sand and sobbed.
    ‘The fact is,’ said Bond, flatly, ‘that Poppy’s best chance lies with you and me. If we can get out safely and bring down Gorner, she’ll be all right. But tonight, my dear Scarlett, we have to leave without her.’
    Almost five minutes passed in silence before Scarlett finally lifted her head and turned her tear-streaked face up to him. He saw submission in her swollen features and lifted her gently to her feet.
    She put her mouth to his ear. ‘I suppose you may be right,’ she said sullenly, ‘but do you have any idea how to do it? How to get me out before they … before the workers take me and – and – kill me?’
    ‘Move slowly round and put your fingers against mine,’ said Bond. ‘Can you feel something sharp?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Twist yourself so it’s against the rope on your wrist, then slowly start to rub. I don’t know if there really is a camera up there – I suspect not – but we can take no chances.’
    It took Scarlett almost two hours of imperceptible movement to fray the nylon cord sufficiently to break it before she set to work at the knots that secured Bond’s wrists.
    ‘Do you have an ear for music, Scarlett?’
    ‘I used to play the violin and the piano. My father was very keen on it. Russians love music. It makes them cry. Why do you ask?’
    ‘If I could sing to you or hum a sequence of five notes, could you work out what numbers from one to nine they might represent?’
    ‘I might.’
    ‘Lay your head on my shoulder.’
    In the course of the next hour Bond transferred into Scarlett’s mind the sequence of sounds he had heard from the door that had led him out to the helicopter. She repeated them and sang them to herself, interspersing the tune with a spoken commentary, using terms that meant little to Bond – intervals, semitones and so forth.
    Eventually, she had loosened the knots enough for Bond to slide one hand free.
    ‘It doesn’t quite make sense, James. I’ve almost got it, but it won’t quite work. Unless, unless …’ She began to laugh. ‘James, you are absurd.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You forgot the zero. Wait.’ She hummed to herself again.‘Now it works. Listen.’ She placed her lips against his ear. ‘Was that the sequence?’
    ‘Exactly,’ said Bond. ‘And what are the numbers?’
    ‘One, zero, six, six, nine. Don’t ask me what it means.’
    ‘I won’t. Listen to me, Scarlett. If you get out, you won’t be on the right side of the plant. You’ll still have to make your way round to the plane. And then … Well. I’m going to have to leave it to your ingenuity. Just get yourself on board and hidden. I calculate it’s early evening. We’ll make our move at about two in the morning. You may be lucky. At any rate, it’s our only chance.’
    Scarlett nodded. She said nothing for a while, but Bond could see that she was warming to the idea.
    ‘Are you hungry?’ said Scarlett, eventually.
    ‘Ravening.’
    ‘What would you most like to eat?’
    Bond thought. ‘Something easy on the digestion to start with. Eggs Benedict. Then some caviar, perhaps, the one Darius gave me in his garden. A sole meunière. Then a roast partridge.