‘Take him away,’ Renard said to the colonel. ‘I don’t want him here when we move the bomb.’ He then stepped close to Bond and whispered, ‘You had me. But I knew you couldn’t shoulder the responsibility . . .’
With that, Renard jammed his hand into Bond’s bad collarbone, squeezing hard. Pain jolted through Bond as he dropped to his knees in agony. He held his shoulder and grimaced, but his mind raced. How did Renard know to hurt him there?
Renard then approached Christmas, who was petrified with fear. ‘I'm sorry, my dear, but you have to join our other guest,’ he said. ‘It’s too bad you had to witness all of this.’ He turned to his men. ‘Now, without any further interruptions, let’s get on with it!’
The men manoeuvred the bomb toward the curving passageway.
‘Nyet,’ Colonel Akakievich said. ‘The bomb doesn’t move until I am satisfied. I want my payment. You owe me. All of you, to the surface, now.’
Renard stopped and turned. ‘You’re right, colonel.’ He nodded to two of his men. One quietly slipped away down the tunnel. The other innocently opened a container filled with frozen food packs. He released a false lining in the lid to reveal several machine guns.
‘We’ll all go up,’ Renard said. ‘I admire your devotion to the cause.’
One of the colonel’s men gestured with his gun for Bond to get up. Knowing it was now or never, Bond pushed him away, yanked the pistol from his hand, grabbed Christmas and leapt down into the bomb pit just as Renard’s men opened fire. Colonel Akakicvich and two soldiers were perforated. The bullets ricocheted around the chamber and ceased. One of the men carefully approached the pit, but he was forced back by a grazing shot from Bond’s gun.
‘Forget them,’ Renard said. He spoke into his radio. ‘Shut them in.’
A man at the other end of the radio, next to the lift, turned a switch that activated two red buttons and two green ones. He punched one green button and heavy iris-shaped steel doors sealed all the tunnels but the one leading to the lift. Renard and his three men started to push the bomb cart into this tunnel. It was slow, hard work. After a few minutes,
Renard became impatient and ran ahead. He began to pull the bomb along on the overhead tracks, leaving the cart behind. His henchmen were amazed that he had the strength of three men.
Bond and Christmas heard the hum of the doors closing.
‘They’re sealing us in!’ Christmas said.
‘We’ll find a way out. Quickly!’
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
Bond looked around the pit, forming a plan. ‘I work for the British government.’
Acting quickly, he pointed his wristwatch toward the catwalk above. He pressed a button and the tiny grappling hook shot out with Q’s filament wire. The hook caught on to a metal beam and stuck. Bond gave the line a tug to make sure it was secure, then rappelled up the side of the pit and into the test chamber. He dived through the iris of the doors, just as they slammed shut behind him. The nearest man swung his machine gun around, but Bond got off a shot first. The man fell and Bond ran to him. He was the one who had extracted the rectangular object from the bomb. Bond reached into his shirt, retrieved it, and put it in his own pocket.
Bond ran behind the abandoned cart and fired a couple of shots down the tunnel at Renard. Return fire ripped up the wall next to him. He ducked behind the cart until the barrage subsided. As he lay on his back, he got an idea. He aimed the pistol at the overhead work lights and shot them all out. His end of the tunnel was plunged into darkness; Renard and his men now had no visible target.
Meanwhile, in the pit, Christmas Jones managed to climb up the side to the closed iris door. She found a panel next to it and prised it open, revealing a mess of wiring. She started to work with the only tools she had . . . her fingers.
No longer a sitting duck, Bond inched out from behind the cart and fired toward the dimly lit figures in the tunnel.
A bullet grazed Renard’s arm. He clasped the wound, again noting the blood and the strange lack of sensation. One of his two remaining men sprayed the dark end of the corridor with gunfire. Renard and the other man continued to pull the bomb along the track. Shots from the opposite end of the tunnel whizzed past them.
‘Arrggh!’ Renard’s helper gasped. One of Bond’s rounds had hit him in the back. Moaning, he hung onto the bomb, impeding its progress. Renard tugged at it.
‘Let go!’ he shouted at the man. The wounded thug clung to the device, pleading for help. Renard pulled his gun and aimed it at the man’s head.
‘Here, this should help,’ he said, squeezing the trigger.
Two minutes later, Renard and his one remaining companion managed to clear a second set of blast doors at the midway point. He shouted into his radio, ‘Close the middle doors!’
Bond heard the command. Using all of his strength, he pushed the abandoned cart forward, using it as cover. Suddenly, the doors started closing. Bond realised that he wasn’t going to make it; with a superhuman effort he shoved the cart ahead of him so that it was caught in the closing doors, holding them back for a heartbeat — just long enough for Bond to take a diving leap through before the doors crushed the cart and sealed shut.
As soon as Bond hit the ground on the other side of the doors, he was fired upon. He rolled to the side for cover and shot out a few more lights above him. He then paused to reload.
Inside the pit, Christmas connected two coloured wires. The blast doors began to open. She glanced out and saw that the mid-section doors were still shut. She returned to the control panel and continued working.
Diving and shooting, Bond managed to progress three- quarters of the way up the tunnel. The man at the door controls fired back, attempting to pin Bond down.
Renard and his man were finally successful in getting the bomb past a pile of oil drums and wrestling it into the lift.
‘Let’s go!’ Renard shouted to the man at the controls. The thug raked the switches with gunfire, blowing them out, then raced for the lift. Unfortunately, the clear Lexsan bullet- proofed doors closed on his face before he could get inside. Stunned, he turned to see Bond rushing toward him. The Walther PPK spat fire and the man dropped to the floor.
Through the doors, Bond could see Renard and his man standing next to the bomb. Bond fired at Renard, but the bullets bounced off the Lexsan. The cab began to rise.
Renard smiled and shouted, ‘No hard feelings, Mister Bond! We’re even. Soon, you’ll feel nothing at all!’ He pointed down.
The cab disappeared up the shaft, and in its place was another bomb, rising into view. It wasn’t an atomic bomb, but it looked extremely formidable. The LED was ticking off the seconds: 10 ... 9 ... 8 .. . Horrified, Bond turned to see that the door switch panel was shredded. He was trapped. Then, he heard the familiar hum of the iris doors opening behind him. Doctor Jones!
Looking up, Bond noticed the pulley hook that was used to move Renard’s bomb along the overhead track. He made a running jump, grabbed it, and slid on the track toward the iris door.
Behind him, the bomb went off, igniting the oil drums. The fireball expanded, almost overtaking Bond on the pulley. Miraculously, the iris opened and Bond shot through at the right second. He saw that the next door was also open, and Christmas was standing just beyond.
‘Seal the door! Close it!’ Bond shouted.
Christmas’s eyes widened at the sight of Bond hurtling toward her with a massive fireball in pursuit. She turned to the control panel and sparked the wires. The iris began to close just as Bond, followed by two flying oil barrels, sailed through.