Solo

a semi-permanent viewpoint. He could have rented a room in the temperance hotel – it was perfectly positioned – but he refused to humiliate himself by staying in such an establishment. However, a little further along and at an oblique angle to the plaza he saw a building, grandly named the Alcazar, with a faded sign saying ‘Office Suites To Let. One, Two, Three Rooms. All Conveniences.’ Bond looked up at the five-storey facade. If he could rent somewhere high up at the front he’d have a good view of everyone going in and out of number 1075.
    An eager young man in a shiny suit who introduced himself as Abe tried to persuade him to take their deluxe suite at the back of the building, which came with two reserved parking spaces in the lot at the rear. Bond insisted on the front. All that was available was a three-room suite on the fourth floor. Abe showed him around as Bond peered out of the windows checking the sight lines. Perfect. Abe wanted three months’ rent in advance but Bond, taking out his fat wad of dollars, offered him just one month in advance – with a private, personal bonus of a hundred for Abe himself, for being so extremely helpful. ‘It’s a deal,’ Abe said, trying to keep his smile of joy under control. Bond duly paid his deposit, slipped Abe his inducement, signed the lease and was given a set of keys. ‘Welcome to the Alcazar,’ Abe said, and shook his hand.
    There were dirty, vertical plastic strip-blinds at the windows, no furniture and stained carpet tiles on the floor. The third and smallest of the rooms gave him the best view. All Bond needed was a seat and a pair of binoculars – then he could survey Milford Plaza to his heart’s content. It was time to equip himself.
    Bond drove west and crossed the Potomac to a suburb outside DC in Virginia. He cruised the shopping malls and the streets until he found what he was looking for. He parked outside a large, brash-looking store painted canary yellow with, along the facade, huge red letters outlined in neon that said ‘SAM M. GOODFORTH. GUNS ’N’ AMMO’. Beneath that, in a cursive copperplate, a line read ‘Your Firearm Dreams Answered’.
    Bond pushed open the door and browsed for a while, checking the place out. All the lethal hardware was contained in locked wire-grilled cabinets behind the long sales counter. The rest of the store was filled with army surplus and hunting and fishing equipment and accessories. Bond chose a folding canvas stool and a soft rubber mattress that could be rolled up. He approached the counter with his purchases.
    The thin, muscled man who served him was smoking a cigarette and had his hair shaved almost bald in a severe crew cut with a curious tuft at the forelock. Various crests and emblems were tattooed on his pale arms. Despite his martial air his voice was oddly high-pitched and he had a half-lisp.
    Bond also bought a pair of binoculars, ex-US Navy, Zeiss lenses.
    ‘Are you the owner?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m his brother, Eugene,’ he smiled, showing a black tooth. ‘Sam’s got an appointment with a lady friend.’
    ‘I need a handgun,’ Bond said. ‘Have you got a Walther PPK?’
    ‘I got thomething better, thir,’ Eugene lisped. ‘Thmall but thtrong.’
    He opened a drawer and brought out a Beretta M1951. Bond liked Berettas, in fact he sometimes regretted giving up his old Beretta for his Walther. He turned it over in his hand, checking it – it was a ‘third series’ with the smaller sights – cocking it, squeezing the trigger, ejecting the empty clip – it would take eight rounds of 9 mm Parabellum – and slapping it back in.
    ‘Ain’t the first time you had a gun in your hand, I can see that,’ Eugene said.
    Bond liked the weight of the gun. ‘I’ll take it,’ he said, his eye ranging over the rifles, the M5 carbines, machine guns and shotguns racked behind the grilles. Maybe he needed something for longer ranges . . . And then he suddenly thought that powerful telescopic sight might be a real advantage – a sniper-scope – from his room high up in the Alcazar. Something that could zoom in – better than binoculars.
    ‘I might be doing a bit of hunting,’ Bond said. ‘I want something with a bit of beef – and that can take a strong scope.’
    Eugene Goodforth presented him with a choice of powerful hunting rifles – a CZ-550 with a Mannlicher stock, a Mauser Karabiner and a Springfield 1903 in beautiful condition. Bond was more interested in the