Solo

have no idea how helpful she had been.
    They ate, they drank and later they made love like old and practised familiars.
    ‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ she said, lying in his arms, smoothing the forelock from his brow with a finger. ‘I’ve missed you, absurd though it may sound. And remember you promised me a holiday.’
    ‘I’m going to take you to Jamaica,’ he said. ‘Ever been there?’
    ‘No, I haven’t. How rather wonderful.’
    ‘Stand by for the trip of a lifetime.’
    ‘How can I possibly thank you, Mr Bond?’ she said, shifting forward and kissing him, letting her tongue linger in his mouth. ‘Maybe I can think of something a little out of the ordinary . . .’ She flicked the sheet away from his naked body.
     
    Bond woke. He had heard a noise. He heard it again – a sharp patter of fine gravel thrown against the windowpane almost like a rain-shower. He looked at his watch – 4.55 a.m. Bryce was soundly asleep. Bond slipped out of bed and parted the curtains an inch and peered out. The opaque grey expanse of the lawn, lit by the moonlight, was revealed below and beyond it, through a fringe of trees, flowed the silvered river at high tide. Then he thought he saw some shadow move in the darkness and felt himself tense, suddenly. He gathered up his clothes and shoes and quietly left the bedroom, dressing quickly on the landing. He pulled on his socks and shoes and then his jacket, shoving his tie into a pocket. There was somebody out there in the garden, he was sure, and he was going to find out who it was.
    He went downstairs, not switching on any lights. It was an old burglar’s trick, he was aware – throw some gravel at the bedroom windows and if no lights go on you’re pretty much safe to plunder the ground floor. He picked up the poker from beside the fire in the drawing room and crept through to the kitchen and its door on to the garden. Keeping out of sight, he peered through the kitchen windows at the ghostly expanse of the garden within its high walls. Once again he thought he saw something shift in the big herbaceous border by the fig tree. Were his eyes playing tricks with him? But the thrown gravel was no illusion. Perhaps he should just switch the lights on and the interloper would get the message and try to rob another big house in Richmond instead. But Bond had a strange sense about this wake-up call. Thrown gravel. Thrown coins . . . Perhaps somebody wanted to lure him out into the darkness. Well – he was ready for that.
    He opened the door and stepped outside. It was cold and his breath condensed, the first intimations of the winter that was approaching. He gripped the poker hard in his fist and walked down a brick path towards the wall and the gate on to the river promenade. He stopped – listening hard. Nothing. A breeze swirled by and leaves rustled. Bond headed for the herbaceous border where he thought he’d seen the movement in the shadows.
    He stood at the lawn’s edge looking at the plants in the border for any sign of broken stems or leaves. He reached into his pocket for his lighter and clicked it on, crouching and holding the flame close to the ground. Some leaves had fallen, one plant was oddly bent over. He moved the flame so it cast an oblique light – and he saw the footprints. The soil was moist and the freshly moulded imprints were an inch deep, four of them. Someone had been in this garden, hiding. What was odd was that one footprint, the right, seemed unnaturally turned into the other, and the right heel seemed implanted deeper than the left – and there were a series of round holes beside them also, as if a stick or a cane had been used to rest on. This is madness, Bond thought – but another more rational part of his brain was saying this could be someone deformed, someone who cannot walk unaided. A cripple of some kind . . .
    Then he heard a noise in the street beyond and ran to the garden gate, turning the key that was in the lock and flinging the door open. He stepped out on to the street. The tide was now fully ebbing in the river, flowing strongly back towards the sea. Bond looked left and right. The river-road here in Richmond was well illuminated by street lights but there was no sign of anyone. He thought he heard a car engine kick into life a street away, and pull off into the night.
    He felt a great sinking of heart as he realised what he had to do. There was no other option.
    Bond went back into the house and poured