Bond steered from a compass set in the dashboard and after ten minutes brought the Lotus up to a point just below the surface. He pressed a button on the dashboard and a periscope tube rose from its housing where the bonnet joined the windscreen. As the slim metal broke the surface, Bond slid open a panel set in the broad centre band of the driving wheel and a small television screen was revealed. Bond twisted the knob on the dashboard and the scascape on the screen started to turn through three hundred and sixty degrees.
‘Excellent!’ Bond’s remark heralded the appearance of Stromberg’s cliff, gaunt and sharp as a blackened tooth. ‘I’ll take her in and we’ll nose our way round to the caldera.’
It was noticeable that there was more current running now and the water became turbulent and cloudy. Visibility was bad and the headlights bounced back as if playing on thick fog. A column of rock reared up dangerously close and the Lotus bobbed past, nearly scraping its side. Shingle rattled against the bottom of the car like shaken dice. There was obviously a treacherous undercurrent. Bond thought of the jagged fingers of rock seen from the Riva and headed out to sea. Better to back off and take another look through the periscope from a safe distance. This he did and came in straight towards the narrow opening between the rocks at a depth of two fathoms. It was noticeable that the moment the opening was breached, the seabed disappeared beneath them. The explosion, millennia before, had clearly blasted a huge hole in the earth into which the sea had rushed.
What was less obvious was the position of the two electric eyes staring at each other from opposite sides of the channel.
Once the contact between them was broken a message was immediately flashed to the operations room of Stromberg’s laboratory.
Bond was thinking about the depth of the caldera. Why build in its middle when an easier foundation could be found nearer the shore or actually on it? Perhaps the caldera had been formed by the explosion of two adjacent volcanoes and there was an underwater ridge between them. Bond cut back power and went down to four fathoms. It would be interesting to see what the laboratory was built on.
‘I’m going in. Keep your eyes peeled.’
Anya nodded and hunchcd forward. Bond was reminded of her posture when the microfilm had been expected at Cairo. Keen. That was the word for it.
The water inside the natural harbour was calm, but the visibility was still bad. Probably as a result of the sea’s reaction with the sulphurous compounds on the inside of the caldera. Bond’s eyes probed the gloom and he became prey to a strange sense of apprehension. He could almost feel Stromberg watching him from the perimeter of his vision. The all-seeing watery gaze filtering towards him. So strong was the image that when Bond saw the inverted dome he shrank back in his seat. For a moment it seemed like a gargantuan replica of Stromberg’s head lolling backwards in the water.
‘James!’ Bond looked down to see Anya’s hand gripping his wrist. ‘It is not a permanent structure. It floats! ’
Anya was right. He might have been looking up at the hull of a ship. There was no foundation. No sign of mooring. The heavy base of the structure hung in the water like the bottom of a saucepan. But why? Was it so that the laboratory could be towed to other locations? This seemed the only feasible explanation - and not a bad idea, either. Stromberg could play with his expensive toy anywhere in the world. Its range was infinite.
Bond caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. A depth charge! No sooner had he sent the Lotus plunging towards the murky depths than there was a violent explosion and his head crashed against the side of the car. He could feel the blood running down from his temple and the dreadful, vibrating pain burrowing into his eardrums like a drill. The shock waves slapped the Esprit sideways and water started to splutter through leaks in its buckled frame. A dead sea-bream cannoned off the windscreen like a spattered fly.
A second explosion rippled them further into the depths and Bond desperately tried to feel some response from the controls. He looked at the compass. The needle spun aimlessly. He had to find his way out by instinct. One thing he knew for certain. He dare not go any deeper or the pressure would destroy them. There was still no sign of the bottom. Bond twisted the directional control and felt his shirt sticking to his body. If the steering had been hit they were doomed.
Boom! Another depth charge. A moray eel snapped past in its death agonies, precursor of a twitching pall of dying fish. Bond tried to keep calm and twisted the steering knob like a burglar feeling for the combination of a safe. Beside him, Anya tore a strip of material from her shirt and forced it into one of the cracks through which water was pouring. At last ! Bond felt the Lotus turning in the direction he wanted and gingerly increased speed. To crash into the side of the caldera would be to commit suicide. With every second that passed he waited for sight or sound of the next depth charge that must surely destroy them but there was nothing. Visibility was still down to half a dozen yards.
‘James!’ Bond turned his head and had just enough time to see a frogman aligning what looked like a slim torpedo mounted on the prow of a midget submarine. He put the Lotus into a bank as the weapon was fired. Like an arrow the torpedo sped towards them and for a second Bond thought that it was equipped with some magnetic device that would home in on them. Then it streaked underneath the front of the tilting car and exploded with a flash against the side of the caldera. Once again, the Lotus was shrugged aside but this time the light of the explosion gave Bond a split second glimpse of what lay in front. Fifty feet ahead was the harbour opening.
‘James! There are others behind!’
Anya was right. Three frogmen pushing rocket launchers were closing the distance towards diem. At any second, they would fire. Bond jabbed a finger at the dashboard and a cloud of black ink wiped out Anya’s view of the pursuers. ‘Also known as Billy the Squid,’ said Bond. His eyes probed the dim light ahead. ‘Ah! I see the car-park attendants are gathering to collect their dues.’ Three frogmen carrying what looked like crossbows were positioned in front of a chain fence that now covered the opening they had entered by.
Anya felt powerless and envious of the grim confidence in Bond’s voice. All three frogmen were levelling their weapons as he leaned forward and pulled a lever beneath the dashboard. There was a sigh and a louvred metal screen rose up to cover the windscreen like a Venetian blind. A spurt of bubbles showed that one of the frogmen had fired, and his bolt thumped into the louvres. There was a sharp crack and a seam of water ran down the side of the windscreen.
Bond felt icy fingers of fear tightening round his stomach. A shot from the side would finish them. He had not expected the louvres to be so easily breached. The second man fired his bolt and missed. Bond pulled another lever and two small hatches beside the front indicator lights slid open. Behind them were the recessed barrels of two 2.3-inch rocket launchers. Bond levelled at the third man and pulled the triggering mechanism. There was an instant recoil, and for a second Bond was not certain whether they had been hit. The car shook and more water came in through the cracked windscreen.