مرگ روی پله‌ها

CHAPTER SEVEN

Death on the Stairs

Mr Big thought for a moment, then pushed a button on the intercom on his desk.

‘Blabbermouth, You’re holding the American, Leiter,’ he said. ‘Hurt him, then take him to Bellevue Hospital and leave him outside. Don’t let anyone see you.’

‘Yes, Sir, Boss,’ came the reply.

‘Damn you,’ said Bond.

Mr Big looked at Bond, then at Tee-Hee. ‘Tee-Hee, break the little finger of Mr Bond’s left hand.’

Tee-Hee laughed and walked across to Bond.

Bond held on tightly to the arms of his chair. He started to sweat and tried to imagine the pain so that he could control it. Tee-Hee took hold of the little finger of Bond’s left hand and started to bend it back. The sweat poured off Bond’s face as he fought the pain.

Suddenly there was a terrible crack! as the finger broke - and Bond fainted.

Solitaire closed her eyes.

‘Did he have a gun,’ asked Mr Big.

‘Yes, Sir, Boss,’ said Tee-Hee. He took the Beretta from his pocket and put it on the desk. Mr Big picked it up and emptied the bullets onto his desk. Then he pushed the gun towards its owner.

‘Wake him up,’ he said. He looked at his watch. It said three o’clock.

Tee-Hee pushed his fingernails into Bond’s neck. Bond’s eyes opened and he lifted his head. He looked at Mr Big and swore at him.

‘Be glad that you’re not dead,’ Mr Big told him. ‘Tee-Hee, give him his gun. I have the bullets.’

Tee-Hee took it off the desk and put the Beretta into Bond’s shoulder holster.

‘So, why are you still alive, Mr Bond,’ said Mr Big. ‘Why aren’t you at the bottom of the Harlem River? I’ll tell you.

Because it would be a nuisance for me to have a lot of people asking questions about the disappearance of yourself and Mr Leiter. I have more important things to worry me at this time.’

He looked at his watch. ‘So you must leave the country today, and Mr Leiter must move on to another job. If I see you again, you’ll die. Tee-Hee, take Mr Bond to the garage. Tell two men to take him to Central Park and leave him there.’

Tee-Hee took the belts from Bond’s wrists and legs. Next he took Bond’s injured left hand and pushed it up behind his back. Then he took off the belt around Bond’s body and pulled him to his feet.

Solitaire was staring at her hands. She did not look up.

Tee-Hee pushed Bond forward towards a bookcase. He reached across and put a hand on one of the books, and a large part of the bookcase opened like a door. He pushed Bond through and closed the bookcase behind him.

They walked down a short corridor towards some stairs. When they were near the top of the stairs, Bond stopped suddenly. Tee-Hee’s body fell against him, and Bond quickly turned and used his right hand to hit the other man hard in the stomach.

Tee-Hee screamed and dropped Bond’s left arm. Bond pulled his empty gun from its holster and hit Tee-Hee across the head. He fell onto his knees, and Bond kicked him with his steel-capped shoe. Tee-Hee screamed again as he fell down the stairs.

Bond wiped the sweat from his face and listened. He pushed his left hand into his coat. The pain was terrible and the hand was twice its usual size. Holding his gun in his right hand, he walked slowly and quietly down the stairs.

At the bottom, Tee-Hee was lying on his back. He was either dead or dying from a broken neck. Bond checked the body for a gun and found a Colt 38 Detective Special.

He took it and put his Beretta back in his shoulder holster. There was a small door in front of him. He put his ear against it and heard the sound of an engine. It had to be the garage where they were waiting for him and Tee-Hee.

Bond pushed the door open with a crash. A black car with its engine running was waiting. He saw two black men, one sitting in the driver’s seat of the car and the other standing next to the passenger door. There were several other cars, but nobody else.

Bond shot the man near the passenger door in the stomach, then quickly turned towards the driver of the car. The man screamed and Bond shot him through the head.

Bond ran round the car and opened the door. The driver’s body fell towards him and he pulled it out onto the ground. He climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

There was a shot as he drove out of the garage. The bullet hit the side of the car. Bond guessed that the first man was still alive and had managed to reach his gun.

Outside the garage, the street was dark and empty. At the end of the street, Bond came to some red traffic lights. He drove through them. There were several more dark streets before he came to an avenue with street lights.

There was traffic now. Further on, he checked the street signs and saw that he was on the corner of Park Avenue and 116th Street. He slowed again at the next street. It was 115th. He was going away from Harlem and back into the city.

He turned into 60th Street, stopped the car and got out. He took the gun off the passenger seat and pushed it into his belt, then he walked back to Park Avenue. A few minutes later, he stopped a taxi.

Back at the St Regis Hotel, the man at the desk had a message for him. Bond opened the envelope with his right hand. It was from Felix, sent at 4 am. ‘Call me at once,’ it said.