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‘Yes. Walther PPK in a Burns Martin holster.’
‘Right, give me the number. I’ve got a blank licence here. If that gets back to me it’s quite okay. I’ve got a story for it.’
Bond took out his gun and read off the number. Colonel Johns filled in the form and pushed it over.
‘Now then, maps. Here’s a local Esso map that’s all you need to get you to the area.’ Colonel Johns got up and walked round with the map to Bond and spread it out. ‘You take this route 17 back to Montreal, get on to 37 over the bridge at St A
‘What’s the distance? About ten miles?’
‘Ten and a half. Take you about three hours from Frelighsburg if you don’t lose your way, so you’ll be in sight of the place around six and have about an hour’s light to help you over the last stretch.’ Colonel Johns pushed over the square of aerial photograph. It was a central cut from the one Bond had seen in London. It showed a long low range of well-kept buildings made of cut stone. The roofs were of slate, and there was a glimpse of graceful bow windows and a covered patio. A dust road ran past the front door and on this side were garages and what appeared to be ke
Colonel Johns closed his now empty file and tore the typewritten list into small fragments and dropped them in the wastepaper basket. The two men got to their feet. Colonel Johns took Bond to the door and held out his hand. He said: ‘Well, I guess that’s all. I’d give a lot to come with you. Talking about all this has reminded me of one or two sniping jobs at the end of the War. I was in the Army then. We were under Monty in Eighth Corps. On the left of the line in the Arde
Bond thanked him and shook him by the hand. A last question occurred to him. He said: ‘By the way, is the Savage single pull or double? I won’t have a chance of finding out and there may not be much time for experimenting when the target shows.’
‘Single pull and it’s a hair-trigger. Keep your finger off until you’re sure you’ve got him. And keep outside three hundred if you can. I guess these men are pretty good themselves. Don’t get too close.’ He reached for the door handle. His other hand went to Bond’s shoulder. ‘Our Commissioner’s got a motto: “Never send a man where you can send a bullet.” You might remember that. So long, Commander.’Bond spent the night and most of the next day at the KO-ZEE Motor Court outside Montreal. He paid in advance for three nights. He passed the day looking to his equipment and wearing in the soft ripple rubber climbing boots he had bought in Ottawa. He bought glucose tablets and some smoked ham and bread from which he made himself sandwiches. He also bought a large aluminium flask and filled this with three-quarters Bourbon and a quarter coffee. When darkness came he had di
The man at the all-night garage was not as sleepy as Colonel Johns had said he would be.
‘Goin’ huntin’, mister?’
You can get far in North America with laconic grunts. Huh, hun and hi! in their various modulations, together with sure, guess so, that so? and nuts! will meet almost any contingency.
Bond, slinging the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, said ‘Hun.’
‘Man got a fine beaver over by Highgate Springs Saturday.’
Bond said indifferently ‘That so?’, paid for two nights and walked out of the garage. He had stopped on the far side of the town, and now he only had to follow the highway for a hundred yards before he found the dirt track ru