pressure crumbles this wasted structure like a tin can!'
Bond’s mind quickly pickcd the meat from Strombcrg’s insane ranting. If they were sinking, what was Carter going to make of it? The answer came sooner than he anticipated.
A violent explosion lifted Bond’s feet from the ground and the room tilted crazily. Carter had fired early, but who could blame him? He could not afford to let the prize escape. Bond was sprawled against the wall behind Stromberg’s chair, the floor rising like a steep slope in front of him. He rolled aside as a chair hurtled towards him and searched for Stromberg and his gun. Six feet away along the wall, Stromberg pounced greedily. The Walther PPK took shape in his hand and he steadied himself against the wall The twin pinpoints of hate glinted triumphantly. Bond tensed for the feel of the first bullet burrowing into his flesh. The third small eye was trained unswervingly on his heart. And then the glass-and-steel table crashed down the room and drove against Strombcrg’s head like a battering-ram. There was a sickening crunch and the head elongated, pushing forward the eyes so that they bulged out like those of a fish. Even in death, thought Bond.
Another pile-driving explosion and an ominous groan of anguish from the smitten hull. The room slowly righted itself and a fast-moving stream of water entered the door and began to snake across the carpet as if searching for someone. Bond scrambled to his feet and prised Stromberg’s fingers from his pistol. Although but recently dead they were of a reptilian coldness.
Bond burst through the door shouting Anya’s name. The water was now an angry tide tearing at his legs. He could see it frothing and bubbling as it welled up from a companionway further along the corridor. A giant squid swirled past and then three angel fish. What the devil was happening? Then he realized. The aquarium! The tanks must have burst. My God, if Anya was down there! There would be no hope. He shouted again and struggled on against the current. The corridor divided and a metal rail ran along the roof. From it dangled the familiar roundel of an electromagnet, presumably used to move stores and heavy equipment.
Bond ducked past the cable and straightened up to find a shadow blocking his path. A shadow with the ominous substance of Jaws behind it. The great uneven head scraped the roof of the corridor. The lips divided in a chilling smile of welcome. The tree-trunk legs parted the current like the Colossus of Rhodes. Bond raised his gun to fire but his lacerated arm was too slow. Jaws gripped his hand and dashed it against the wall, shattering his knuckles like a row of peanut shells. Bond cried out in pain and drove his knee upwards with all the force that desperation and anger could muster. Jaws grunted; spreading his hand over Bond’s face he propelled him into the flood. Bond floundered backwards, scrabbling to find his feet. Next time it would be teeth. Jaws was baring them, curling his lips back and tilting his head so that one could see into the disgusting black caverns of his nostrils.
Bond’s aching limbs scraped metal and his despairing hand at last found something to cling to. He pulled himself from the flood and saw that he was hanging on to a small control-box, attached to wires that led to the rail in the ceiling. Jaws lumbered on remorselessly, pacing each step against the increasing fury of the mounting tide. Now, the magnet dangled like a bait before the hideous metal teeth. The image set off a small explosion inside Bond’s battered brain. Oblivious of the pain he jabbed his shattered hand against the contact button on the control box.
The magnet sprang at Jaw’s mouth and clung, whirring, to his teeth. He looked like some malformed baby sucking a huge teat. Then a look of surprise spread over the gross features. A giant hand rose to pluck at the offensive object as if it was an impertinent fly. Bond pressed the second switch and the wire tightened and began to draw Jaws back against the current. Now, both hands were tearing at the magnet and Jaws twisted furiously like a fish on the hook. As Bond watched in fascinated horror, a relentless triangle streaked up behind the stricken giant. A huge, grey force launched itself through the wild water and two rows of white teeth closed about the threshing flesh. Obscene sounds broke through the barrier of the imprisoned teeth and a wave of blood surged against Bond’s chest. Like a man fleeing from a nightmare he turned and let the current carry him away from this mind- searing spectacle of hideous death. The image of the small red eye glowing with demonic purpose pursued him like an avenging fury.
‘Anya!’ Bond shouted to hear his voice and know that he was still alive. The current swirled him round a corner and turned into a whirlpool as it surged, white-tipped against a wall of metal. Bond seized the rail of a companionway and dragged himself from the flood. The structure was listing at an angle of forty-five degrees and beginning to buckle. It groaned and shuddered as if in its death agonies. Ahead, a door twisted and sprang open with a metallic snap. A slim white hand appeared round it.
‘Anya!’ Bond launched himself forward, scrambling along the angle of deck and wall. Anya’s head and shoulders appeared pulling themselves out into the corridor. Her eyes recognized him and then hardened as if frozen over with a layer of ice.
‘Anya.’ He tried to reassure her with the sound of his voice. She must be in a state of shock. God knows what they had done to her. Then a pistol appeared in her hand. The sight reared towards the lop-sided ceiling and then slowly swung down to cover Bond’s heart. The finger started to tighten round the trigger.
‘When this mission is over, Sergei will be avenged and you will be dead.’ The words came back to Bond with chilling clarity. He kept coming. ‘Anya, give me that gun.’ He stretched out his hand. The barrel began to waver. Bond closed his fingers about it and kept looking into Anya’s eyes. She blinked as if awakening from a bad dream. The corridor echoed to the sound of grinding metal as if it had been twisted by two giant hands. Bond took the gun from the unresisting fingers and pressed Anya to his chest. He could feel her heart thudding like a bird’s. ‘We have seconds to get out of this place. Trust me.’ He took her by the hand and drew her after him as a menacing column of water rushed between their feet.
Now the downward motion was terrifying perceptible. The stomach rose, the legs hung weightless. Bond's heart pumped blood and panic through his system. How in God’s name did one escape from this waterlogged tomb? The walls were now listing at such an angle as to become a roof. Bond dropped to his knees and the water rushing past brushed against his chin.
Soon it would be above his shoulders, his head - and then what? How many minutes of palsied dance before the body finally floated belly upwards, the legs and arms dangling down like those of some near-spent insect? Bond jerked his head above the rising torrent and held tight to Anya's hand. To port there was a bulkhead door, opening six inches above the tilting deck. Three inches from its bottom was a small plaque. Two magic words stencilled in four languages: ESCAPE HATCH.