‘Unhappily, my ma never made apple pies.’ Bond tilted an eyebrow. ‘I’d love to stay, Ed, but I’m afraid I’ve had a previous invitation which not even the demon Brokenclaw could make me give up.’
‘Ah!’ Rushia said, looking at Bond and then at Chi-Chi. ‘Ah!’ again. ‘Bless you, my children. May your days be long and your nights longer. I’ll give you my number, though, just in case the novelty wears off.’ He slipped his card into Bond’s hand, and with a cheery wave, left the cabin.
Tanner approached them, saying they would have to delay any departure as Franks wanted to go through one or two points with both of them. It was well after five before they were taken back to the mainland.
Chi-Chi lived high in an apartment building on Union Street. ‘It’s not all fixed up yet,’ she warned him, but, when they arrived, Bond was impressed by what he saw. It was not large – a living room, bedroom and kitchen, but it had a huge picture window looking out towards the Golden Gate Bridge and the furnishings were new, modern and very comfortable. There were a couple of extremely good reproductions on the walls of the living room, together with an attractive, framed museum poster advertising a da Vinci exhibition and an excellent original oil by Eyvind Earle in the bedroom.
Within half-an-hour he felt comfortable and relaxed, as though he had lived in this apartment for some time. There was no clutter and the kitchen was what his old housekeeper, May, would have called ‘prick neat’.
‘Relax, James. I’ll get us some dinner. Unless you want to go out and live it up.’
‘I don’t really think you’re in any condition to go out and live it up, and I feel as though I’ve just gone four rounds with Mike Tyson. In fact, I really think you ought to go to bed while I get you something light on a tray.’
‘That an invitation, James?’
‘Could be. You Chinese are so inscrutable, though.’
‘I’m an inscrutable American, Captain Bond.’ She came towards him, her eyes again locking with his. She winced slightly as he put his arms around her and he quickly apologised for his clumsiness. Then his mouth was on hers and it was as though he had known her lips for years. He pressed harder and she pushed against him. In the bedroom he said, ‘Your back, Chi-Chi. Be careful of your back.’
‘James, my dear, I know many ways to please us both without lying on my back.’
Three hours later, he had to concede that she knew a whole encyclopedia of ideas that neither hurt her back nor his own bruised ribs. There were moments when Bond experienced that sense of wonder only granted to some men once in a lifetime, as her slim body seemed to float above his, light as a wisp of gauze yet giving and taking something more than just lustful pleasure.
They ate a simple meal of what Chi-Chi called her Caesar salad, but which Bond would have called a very good Salade Niçoise, followed by raspberries from her freezer with whipped cream. The coffee, he noticed, was Swedish, the Traditional Roast, freshly ground.
They sat over the coffee and brandy looking at the great undulating strings of lights marking the bridge, until Chi-Chi stifled a yawn.
‘I’m sorry.’ Bond reached over and held her hand. ‘I haven’t been talking much. A lot on my mind, Chi-Chi.’
‘There is an old proverb.’ She looked at him from under lowered lids. ‘I think maybe it is Chinese, and it says, “Those who have love need no prattle.”’
Bond gave her a smile with his eyes. ‘I didn’t know there was a Chinese word for prattle.’
‘Maybe it’s an old English proverb.’
‘Maybe.’ He was silent again for a moment. Then, ‘You remember when we woke in Brokenclaw’s lair? The morning when we thought we were in Virginia?’
‘Could I forget?’
‘I thought I had forgotten, but at one point during that day I remembered something. It was a sundial in Virginia. At the university of that state, there’s an inscription on a sundial which says—
Time is
Too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love, time is
Eternity.
Hours fly,
Flowers die,
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
Love stays.
‘I thought of that; remembered that, on the morning we saw the Blue Ridge from the bottom of a devil’s pit, Chi-Chi, and I’ll never think of you without remembering those words.’
She rose, took his hand and gently led him back into the bedroom.
They spent a lazy lovers’ Sunday, rising late and eating brunch together on the small table by the picture window. It was two in the afternoon before they finished the meal – orange juice, eggs, bacon, waffles with real maple syrup and coffee. Then they showered and went back to bed, rising again around six.
‘I wanted to make us a splendid dinner tonight. A kind of celebration.’ Chi-Chi was in the kitchen. ‘I have everything but wine, and you love wine, James.’
‘I can live without it.’ He kissed her. ‘But why don’t I try to find some? American cities always have shops open on a Sunday.’
She gave a little pout. ‘There’s quite a good liquor store two blocks up. But I don’t want you to go. I’ll put some clothes on and come with you.’
‘And that’ll take weeks. I’ll try to get us some champagne. Does your liquor store sell champagne? And is that okay for the surprise you’re preparing?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ She kissed him again. ‘Please don’t be long, darling. I can get my treat in the oven and we can have a whole free hour until it’s ready.’
On his way out, Bond picked up the ASP which had never been far away from him since their arrival. ‘The password’s “Time”,’ he said, and she laughed.
‘I mean it, Chi-Chi. Don’t open up unless it’s me. Our friend Lee’s still around, and I don’t think he’s the kind of man who forgives and forgets. Eventually we’re going to have to round him up or kill him. He must know that.’
‘Time,’ she said, frowning. ‘Yes, I do know we’ll have to get him and I can’t wait. I can’t wait to get him either.’
‘Hussy!’ Bond stuck the pistol in his waistband behind his right hip and left.
It took almost half-an-hour, and all he could get was Californian champagne, but by now, he was quite converted to American wines.
He knew something was wrong before the lift reached Chi-Chi’s floor. Instinct, he wondered, then realised it had nothing to do with instinct; the lift held traces of Bal à Versailles, and that was what Chi-Chi had been wearing.
The door hung half off its hinges, and she had put up a struggle, for the place was a mess. One chair smashed, a table lamp thrown across the room, the glass over the poster fragmented and the drapes on one side of the picture window pulled so that they hung sideways from their fixings as though she had grabbed at them and fallen.
‘Chi-Chi!’ he called, knowing there would be no reply. Again, ‘Chi-Chi!’ as he ran to the bedroom.
She was not there either, but the beautiful Eyvind Earle oil painting was ripped and riven by an arrow from which hung a message.
If you want to see her alive again, you will come to Muir Woods alone at one thirty precisely tonight.
LEE
Bond went through to the living room, picked up an overturned table and found the telephone on the floor beside it. He was about to dial when he had second thoughts. Training? Experience? Or just the automatic reaction of one who always thinks in terms of listening devices and surveillance.
He rode the lift down to the street again, found a telephone booth and dialled a number.
When it was answered, he said, ‘Ed, I need you. Now.’ His voice was unsteady and the words, ‘Flowers die, New days, New ways, Pass by. Love stays’ screamed through his head.