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building the original weathervane  a beautifully executed galleon still swung
gently, but the Bourse itself, like the buildings opposite, had been given
over to a different kind of financial transaction, for it was now a cafe. Here
it was hard cash for hard liquor, coffee, soft drinks or beer. The old marble
pavement was a litter of tables and chairs and people taking refreshment
before joining in the festivities.
Bond walked straight into the corner Bar Tabac and asked for the toilette. The
bartender, busy filling orders and being harassed by waiters, nodded to the
back of the bar where Bond found the door marked with the small male symbol.
It was empty, and he went into the first cabinet, locking the door behind him
and starting work almost before the bolt slid home.
Quickly his hands moved to his belt clasp - a solid, wide U-shaped buckle with
a single thick brass spike, normal enough until you twisted hard. The spike
moved on a metal screw thread. Six turns released it, revealing a small steel
knife blade, razor sharp, within the sheath of the spike Bond removed the
blade, handling it with care, and inserted the cutting edge into an almost
invisible hairline crack in the wide U-buckle. With hard downwards pressure
the buckle came apart, opening on a pair of tiny hinges set at the points
where it joined the leather. This was also a casing-for a tiny handle,
complete with a thread into which the blade could be screwed. Equipped with
this small but finely honed weapon, Bond pulled the belt from his waistband
and began to measure the length. Each section of the double-stitched leather
contained a small amount of emergency foreign currency in notes. German in the
first two inches, Italian in the next, Dutch in the third-the whole belt
containing most currencies he might need in Europe. The fourth section was
what Bond needed: French francs.
The small toughened steel blade went through the stitching like a hot knife
laid against butter, opening up the two-inch section to reveal a couple of
thousand francs in various denominations. Not a fortune just under two hundred
pounds sterling, the way the market was running but ample for Bond's needs.
He dismantled the knife, fitted it away again, and reassembled the buckle,
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thrusting the money into his pocket. In the bar he bought a packet of Disque
Bleu and a book of matches, for change; then sauntered out into the Place,
back along the way he had already come. His target was the post office, where
he knew there would be telephone booths. A fast alert to M, then on with the
other business as quickly as possible.
Music still thumped out from the other side of the Castillet. He continued to
mingle with the crowd, keeping to the right of the circling sardana dancers.
He crouched slightly) for Murik's man was still in place, his head and eyes
roving, pausing from time, to take in every face in the ever-changing pattern.
Bond prepared to push himself into the middle of a group heading in his
direction. Then, suddenly, the music stopped. The crowd stilled in
anticipation and the amplifier system crackled into life, the voice of the
French announcer coming clear and loud from the horn-like speakers, bunched in
little trios on the sides of buildings and in trees.
'My friend' - the announcer could not disguise the great emotion which already
cut in waves through the gathered crowds - 'the Flame, carried by the brave
young people of Perpignan, has arrived. The Flame has arrived in Perpignan.'
A great cheer rose from the crowds. Bond looked in the direction of the
watcher by the Castillet, who was now searching wildly for signs, not of Bond,
but of this great Flame. The fever pitch of excitement had got to everyone.
The loudspeakers rumbled again, and with that odd mixture of farce and sense
of occasion which besets local feasts-from the Mediterranean to English
country villages - the opening bars of Richard Strauss's Also sprach
Zarathustra climbed into the air, shattering and brilliant, associated as it
was with the great events of the conquest of space.
As the opening bars died away, so another cheer went up. A group of young
girls in short white skirts came running, the crowds parting at their
approach. About eight of them, each with an unlit brand held aloft, flanked
the girl who carried a great blazing torch. Taking up their positions, the
girls waited until the torch was set to a spot in the middle of the bonfire. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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