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wrist, gripping like a steel trap. "The last time I saw you  dressed as a
very unpleasant thug  you were arguing with this lady's husband outside
Hall's Manor. You wanted to come up to the room in which you'd left Fräulein
von Grüsse and myself. You were very clear about your intentions. You wanted
to come up to finish us off. You made bizarre men, the pair of you, and I do
prefer you as women  if that's what you are?"
"Of course we're women," Cathy almost spat at him. "We did the other thing for
Trish here."
"Including trying to kill us?"
Under his tight hold, with her arm strained behind her back, Anna let out a
little groan. "We were trying to let you go," she said, her voice dropping to
a whisper. "Cathy was coming back to tell you what was really going on. We had
the handcuff keys. Tarn would only have let us come up to you if we said it
was to kill you. You've no  "
"She's telling the truth." Trish Nuzzi nodded, and he saw that it even hurt
her to speak. There was some wiring on her jaw on the inside of her mouth.
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"She's being honest with you. It was all done for me. They persuaded Max that
it would be a good idea to get you both out of the way. He was reluctant, but
finally allowed them to stay behind in Cambridge. Please, they're telling the
truth."
Unwillingly, Bond let go of the wrist. "Why should I trust you? Any of you?"
"Sit down. Please." Trish Nuzzi gestured to the chairs and a long sofa. "Cath,
get a bottle of champagne and we'll have a drink. I'm in need of it, the
painkillers are wearing off, and I can't take any more for a couple of hours."
The grimace on her face was evidence enough that she was not acting.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, one hand rising to indicate her face.
"Who do you think?" She gave a cynical little laugh and patted the place next
to her on the sofa. Flicka gave a long sound, as though clearing her throat,
and indicated one of the comfortable easy chairs. Bond raised one eyebrow at
her as she cut in front of him and seated herself next to Trish.
As he sat down, his eyes caught Anna's; she had been glowering at him. Now she
gave a little knowledgeable smile, then glowered again, touching her hair.
"Wigs," she snapped. "Wigs for us both until our hair grows again."
"I prefer you with real eyebrows as well," Bond said, straight-faced.
"And you." Anna made an obscene gesture as Cathy came back into the room with
an ice bucket in which rested a bottle of Dom Perignon, and glasses.
"Who?" He turned to Trish again.
"I asked who do you think?"
"Your husband?"
"Part of it. Max likes to inflict pain, but he leaves the real bone breaking
to that bastard Connie Spicer."
"Then this isn't something new? Sir Max has a penchant for battering you?"
"It's one of the reasons I brought Cathy and Anna into the marriage."
"You brought . . . ?"
"I am right in saying you are with the British authorities, and that you want
to put Max Tarn into a high-security prison for a thousand years, aren't I?"
"A thousand and one, actually."
"Make that two thousand," said Flicka.
"Good." Trish accepted a glass of the Dom Perignon from Cathy, who had waved
away Bond's offer of help. She took a long sip. "I need this. If I have to
talk for a while, I need help at the moment."
"Take your time." Flicka patted her arm.
"You said that you brought Cathy and Anna into the marriage?"
"Look, Mr. Bond. I know I've been an idiot. I had the pick of the field. I
could have married anyone. Max could be amusing, and he had other things to
offer  like money. I married him for his money, that's plain and simple. I
knew he got some of his kicks through hurting women, but before we married, I
thought it wasn't all that dangerous. Games. You know the kind of thing. Then,
well, he suggested that once we were married, I should have a couple of
bodyguards. He said he'd arrange it. I said that I would arrange it. That's
where Cathy and Anna come in."
"We offered a service for lots of people in the business," Cathy joined in.
"We're trained in the martial arts, and we know how to shoot." She pirouetted
and a small automatic pistol appeared from under her jacket. As Bond moved,
she gave a small laugh and returned the weapon to its hiding place. "We can be
a right pair of dangerous bitches when we want. Also, we got on well with
Trish. She came to us with a proposition, and we ran with it."
"Max wouldn't have taken them seriously as women," Trish began.
"Max is still your average male chauvinist." Cathy shook her head, as though
male chauvinists were an endangered species.
"It meant disguising them," Trish continued, "and they looked bizarre enough
for Max to take them seriously as men. He has some odd tastes in bodyguards."
"You knew he could be violent. Did you also know anything about his business
affairs?" Flicka again.
"Not until much later. The girls knew before I did, because Max gave them a
couple of jobs to do. They weren't that happy about it, but they did try and
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shield me from the worst."
"Until it was too late." Anna sat in a good upright posture on one of the easy
chairs.
"What is the worst?" Flicka asked. "The scope of his illegal arms dealing, or
the contempt he shows by constantly abusing you physically?"
"Oh." She frowned and looked a little bewildered. "Then you don't really know [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]