At that moment two big Blackhawk helicopters seemed to rise from the direction of the road and hover at either end of the boundaries, while ropes snaked down and troops abseiled to the ground. As soon as the first waves were out, the helicopters moved upwards, making room for the second wave.
By this time Rushia was on his feet and running down towards the enclosure, arms and legs going every which way as he raced towards the spreadeagled form of Bond.
‘You cut that a little fine.’ Bond took a deep breath. In spite of his outward calm, Rushia had little doubt that 007 was almost at the extreme point of shock. He cut through the leather thongs, rolled the sleeping wolf from his friend’s leg and said, ‘Good grief, James, you smell like a polecat.’
‘The damned fat they spread on me. Let me out. Let me get to my clothes and for heaven’s sake give me a weapon.’
Rushia followed him. Rarely had he seen anyone dress so quickly. When he was fully clothed, Bond grabbed the pistol from Rushia’s holster. ‘You’ve got a rifle, so you’re okay,’ he shouted as he dashed towards the noise coming from the direction of the house.
There were dull crumps which Bond correctly identified as flash-bangs – stun grenades – and the occasional shot was underscored by the quick rattling bursts of automatic weapons.
He reached the far side of the hangar of trees. Smoke was pouring from the southern exit to the bunker, and as he neared it, a uniformed figure, the face covered with a breathing mask, shouted a muffled, ‘Halt! Drop the gun! Now!’
‘Custodian!’ Bond yelled, hoping the assault team had been given their respective code names.
‘Okay, sir. Captain who?’
‘Bond,’ he shouted. ‘James Bond. Now let me get in there.’
The mask was obviously fitted with a speaker device, for the Special Forces man could be heard clearly. ‘Best not try it without a mask, sir.’
‘Well, get me one.’ Bond’s adrenaline was pumping, and he was aware that most of the firing had stopped.
‘James.’ It was his old friend Bill Tanner in camouflage fatigues, a pistol in his hand. ‘I think they’ve got the lot.’ He was puffing a little as he reached Bond who made an immediate grab for the smoke mask that dangled from Tanner’s waist.
‘Let me see for myself,’ he shouted, slipping the mask across his face and adjusting the straps.
‘Put that on.’ Tanner shoved a Special Forces armband around Bond’s wrist and up his right arm.
When he reached the southern exit, troops were already bringing people out, but he saw neither Brokenclaw nor Bone Bender Ding among them. ‘Hold them back, I need to get in,’ he snapped at the officer in charge.
‘Who’s asking?’ the man sounded belligerent.
‘Custodian!’ he snapped. ‘Captain Bond, Royal Navy.’
‘Okay, you’re cleared, sir.’ The Special Forces officer sounded no less belligerent, but held back the line of prisoners being herded out.
As he proceeded into the corridor, he looked at every face in the line of men being prodded and shoved into the sunlight above. The deeper he went the more anxious he became. Not only was there no sign of Brokenclaw, Ding, or even General H’ang, but he had not set eyes on anyone remotely looking like one of the Navy prisoners. Nor Chi-Chi. All his instincts told him that it was far from over yet.
In the room that had been Lee’s study, several officers and enlisted men were gathered around the table looking at a drawing of the complex maze of tunnels.
No smoke lingered here, so Bond took off the mask and quickly introduced himself. ‘Unless you’ve taken people out of the north exit, you haven’t got them all, not by any stretch.’
‘We know that, Captain Bond. There are still some down there. Here.’ His finger traced one of the offshoots from the main corridor. ‘But we haven’t identified it.’
Bond’s mind raced back. He had been taken from the secure room where they had left Chi-Chi. Yes, the passage was small and had led straight into the main corridor. Chi-Chi had said something about a false wall and a narrow passage. ‘I think I know.’ He did not even wait for anyone to follow him but dived through the door and dashed down the stairs, heading along the northern corridor. The passages sprouted to left and right then about two hundred yards into the tunnel, he saw the start of an oblong passage leading to the left. It looked as though nobody had bothered to extend it, for six paces inside, it was blocked by what seemed to be a solid brick wall. Chi-Chi had said something about kicking a brick at the lower left side. Looking down it was plain that the brick in question protruded slightly. Bond kicked and the whole wall slid away, revealing a lighted passage. A figure moved thirty yards down, shouting and turning at the same moment.
Frozen Stalk Pu lifted a handgun, but Bond already had two shots away, and Pu levitated for a second before being flung back to sprawl on the floor.
There were cheers from further down the passage. The Naval prisoners, he presumed. Someone shouted, ‘That bastard Ding’s with the girl.’
Bond’s feet hardly touched the ground as he covered the distance to what he now recognised as the secure room where he had last been with Chi-Chi. Pistol at the high port, he lashed out at the door and leaped into the room.
There was a blurred image of Chi-Chi, now quite naked, cowering in a corner, but the next thing he knew was a ferocious kick which sent his pistol flying.
Bond dropped and rolled, coming up to face the grinning, gold-toothed Bone Bender Ding. ‘Now you fin’ out why they call me Bone Bender,’ the giant hissed.
Bond moved in, but Ding was fast and very good. Feinting left, his foot lashed out catching Bond’s shin and toppling him to the floor. He was on his feet again quickly, but Ding performed an almost balletic pirouette. His body seemed to hang sideways in the air for a second as both feet slammed into Bond’s chest, one after the other.
Bond staggered against the wall; his chest seemed on fire and he had difficulty breathing.
Ding smiled and bounced from one leg to the other. ‘One on one bit different for you, eh?’
Bond did not even see the right leg lift and straighten, slamming into his chest again, knocking the breath from his body. Yet instinct warned him of the left leg which he was just able to sidestep and grab, giving the foot a quick wrench. He knew this was mostly luck – against a man like Ding, he was out of his league.
Ding was indeed up and coming in at him again. A right hand smashed forward, the arm straight, knuckles like iron grazing Bond’s cheek. ‘Chi-Chi, where’s the gun?’ he whispered. But the Chinese was coming in again, putting the entire weight of his body into a swift curving jump, turning to smash into Bond sideways.
As he hit the wall, Bond heard Chi-Chi whisper, ‘Here. By me, James.’ Before he could even glance in her direction, Ding was swinging into his Ninja kicks again, the heels of each foot making contact, one to the shoulder and the other to the face. They felt like bullet shocks and he reeled against the wall, just in time to see one foot come up. For the second time, he managed to grasp the foot and wrench it, first one way, then the other, going with the body and then against it.
Ding gave a growl of anger as he slewed over on to the bare concrete floor. He took a few seconds to get back on his feet and Bond only needed a blink of time. The pistol he had taken from Rushia was close to where Chi-Chi was trying to push herself through the wall.
He dived towards it as Ding’s foot came whistling within an inch of his head. He saw the big Chinese back away, then gather himself for what would be the final lunge that would send his entire weight and body smashing into Bond. Ding seemed to rise in the air and hurtle towards his target as though propelled by a rocket.
Bond curled into a ball, lifted his right hand and squeezed the trigger twice. He heard the explosions like grenades in the small room. Ding just kept on flying towards him, his mouth blood-flecked and open in surprise. He landed flat against the wall near Chi-Chi. There was a moment when the big Chinese appeared to be nailed there, just hanging like some terrible three-dimensional mural. Then he crumpled, leaving several snakes of blood on the white cement.