This bat was obviously a hybrid and would be carrying some particularly unpleasant disease in its saliva. The lights of the bathroom had completely disorientated it, though it obviously needed blood badly and would fight to sink its teeth into Bond’s flesh. Its body was about twenty-seven centimetres long, while the wingspan spread a good sixty centimetres – over three times the length of a normal member of the species.
As though sensing Bond’s thoughts, the huge bat raised its front legs, opening the wings to full span and gathered its body up for the fast attack.
Bond’s right hand flicked downwards, clicking the baton into its open position. He smashed the weapon hard in the direction of the oncoming creature. His aim succeeded more by luck than judgment, for bats, with their radar-like senses, can usually avoid objects. Probably the unnatural light had something to do with its slow reflexes, for the steel baton caught it directly on the head, throwing it across the room, where it struck the shower doors. With a stride Bond was over the twitching, flapping body and like a man demented he hit the squirming animal again and again. He knew what he was doing, and was aware that fear played no small part in it. As he struck the shattered body time after time his thoughts were of the men who had prepared such a thing as this especially to kill him – for he had little doubt that the saliva of this vampire bat contained something which would bring a fast, painful death.
When he had finished, he dropped the baton in the shower, turned on the spray and walked into the bedroom. He had some disinfectant in the small first aid kit which was now Q Branch standard issue.
He had forgotten about his nakedness.
‘Well, now I’ve seen everything. Quits,’ said Sukie, unsmiling, from the chair in which she waited.
There was a small pistol, similar to the one Nannie carried, in her right hand. It was pointing steadily midway between Bond’s legs.
10
THE MOZART MAN
Sukie looked hard at Bond, and then down at the gun. ‘It’s a pretty little thing, isn’t it?’ She smiled, and he thought he could detect relief in her eyes.
‘Just stop pointing it at me. Put on the safety catch and stow it, Sukie.’
She broadened the smile. ‘Same goes for you, James.’
Suddenly Bond became aware of his nakedness, and grabbed at the hotel towelling robe as Sukie fitted the small pistol into a holster attached to her white suspender belt.
‘Nannie fixed me up with this. Just like hers.’ She looked up at him, primly pulling down her skirt. ‘I brought your stamps, James. What was going on in the bathroom? For a horrible moment I thought you were having real trouble.’
‘I was having trouble, Sukie. Very unpleasant trouble, in the shape of a large hybrid vampire bat, which is not a creature you usually come across in Europe, and especially not in Salzburg. Somebody prepared this one for me.’
‘A vampire bat?’ Her voice rose in astonishment. ‘James! It could have . . .’
‘. . . probably killed me. It was almost certainly carrying something even more lethal than rabies or bubonic plague. How did you get in, by the way?’
‘I knocked but there was no reply.’ She laid the little strip of stamps on the table. ‘Then I realised the door was open. It wasn’t until I heard the noises coming from the bathroom that I switched on the light. Someone had jammed the shower door with a chair. Actually, I thought it was a practical joke – it’s the kind of thing Nannie gets up to – until I heard you shout. I kicked the chair out of the way and moved like lightning.’
‘And then waited in here with a loaded gun.’
‘Nannie’s teaching me to use it. She seems to think it’s necessary.’
‘And I think it’s really necessary for you both to get out of this but thinking won’t make it happen. Would you like to do me another favour?’
‘Whatever you wish, James.’
Her attitude was suspiciously soft, even yielding. Bond wondered if a girl like Sukie Tempesta would have the guts to handle a dangerous hybrid vampire bat. On balance, he thought, the Principessa Tempesta was perfectly capable of such an act.
‘I want you to get me some rubber gloves and a large bottle of antiseptic.’
‘Any particular brand?’ She stood up.
‘Something very strong.’
After Sukie had left on her errand, Bond retrieved the small bottle from the first aid kit and rubbed antiseptic over every inch of his skin. To counteract the strong antiseptic smell he applied cologne. Then he started to dress.
He was concerned about disposing of the bat’s corpse. Really it should be incinerated, and the bathroom ought to be fumigated. Bond could hardly go to the hotel manager and explain the circumstances. Plenty of antiseptic, a couple of the hotel plastic carriers and a quick visit to the waste-disposal unit, then hope for the best, he thought.
He put on his grey Cardin suit, a light blue shirt from Hilditch and Key of Jermyn Street, and a white-spotted navy blue tie. The telephone rang and as Bond picked it up he glanced at the tape machine. He saw the tiny cassette begin to turn as he answered curtly.
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Bond? Is that you, Mr Bond?’ It was Kirchtum, breathing heavily and obviously very frightened.
‘Yes, Herr Direktor. Are you all right?’
‘Physically, yes. They say I am to speak the truth and tell you what a fool I’ve been.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, I tried to refuse to pass any further instructions to you. I told them they should do this job themselves.’
‘And they did not take too kindly to that.’ Bond paused, then added for the sake of the tape, ‘Particularly as you had already told me I must come with the two ladies to the Goldener Hirsch, here in Salzburg.’
‘I must now give you instructions quickly, they say, otherwise they will use the electricity again.’ The man sounded on the verge of tears.
‘Go ahead. Fast as you like, Herr Doktor.’
Bond knew what Kirchtum was talking about – the brutal, old, but effective method of attaching electrodes to the genitals. Outdated methods of persuasion were often quicker than the drugs used by more sophisticated interrogators nowadays. Kirchtum spoke more rapidly, his voice high-pitched with fear, and Bond could almost see them standing over him, a hand poised on the switch.
‘You are to go to Paris tomorrow. It should take you only one day. You must drive on the direct route, and there are rooms booked for you at the George Cinq.’
‘Do the ladies have to accompany me?’
‘This is essential . . . You understand? Please say you understand, Mr Bond . . .’
‘I . . .’ He was interrupted by an hysterical scream. Had the switch been pulled for encouragement? ‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ It was not the doctor speaking now, but a hollow, distorted voice. ‘Good. Then you will save the two ladies we are holding from a most unpleasant, slow end. We shall speak again in Paris, Bond.’
The line went dead, and Bond picked up the miniature tape machine. He ran the tape back and replayed it through its tiny speaker. At least he could get this information to Vienna or London. The final echoing voice on the line might also be of some small help to them. Even if the men terrorising Kirchtum at the Klinik Mozart had used an electronic ‘voice handkerchief’, there was still the chance that Q Branch might take an accurate voice print from it. At least if they could make some identification, M would know which particular organisation Bond was dealing with.