Read Online Bond 03 - Moonraker by Ian Fleming - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ian Fleming
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‘No point in cutting.’
M. smiled across at Bond. The same thought was in both their minds. So Drax wanted to keep the deal. Bond shrugged his shoulders.
‘No objection,’ said M. ‘These seats seem to be doing their best for us.’
‘Up to now,’ said Drax, looking more cheerful.
And with reason. On the next hand he and Meyer bid and made a small slam in spades that required two hair-raising finesses, both of which Drax, after a good deal of pantomime and hemming and hawing, negotiated smoothly, each time commenting loudly on his good fortune.
‘Hugger, you’re wonderful,’ said Meyer fulsomely. ‘How the devil do you do it?’
Bond thought it time to sow a tiny seed. ‘Memory,’ he said.
Drax looked at him, sharply. ‘What do you mean, memory?’ he said. ‘What’s that got to do with taking a finesse?’
‘I was going to add “and card sense”,’ said Bond smoothly. ‘They’re the two qualities that make great card-players.’
‘Oh,’ said Drax slowly. ‘Yes, I see.’ He cut the cards to Bond and as Bond dealt he felt the other man’s eyes examining him carefully.
The game proceeded at an even pace. The cards refused to get hot and no one seemed inclined to take chances. M. doubled Meyer in an incautious four-spade bid and got him two down vulnerable, but on the next hand Drax went out with a lay-down three No Trumps. Bond’s win on the first rubber was wiped out and a bit more besides.
‘Anyone care for a drink?’ asked M. as he cut the cards to Drax for the third rubber. ‘James. A little more champagne. The second bottle always tastes better.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ said Bond.
The waiter came. The others ordered whiskies and sodas.
Drax turned to Bond. ‘This game needs livening up,’ he said. ‘A hundred we win this hand.’ He had completed the deal and the cards lay in neat piles in the centre of the table.
Bond looked at him. The damaged eye glared at him redly. The other was cold and hard and scornful. There were beads of sweat on either side of the large, beaky nose.
Bond wondered if he was having a fly thrown over him to see if he was suspicious of the deal. He decided to leave the man in doubt. It was a hundred down the drain, but it would give him an excuse for increasing the stakes later.
‘On your deal?’ he said with a smile. ‘Well,’ he weighed imaginary chances. ‘Yes. All right.’ An idea seemed to come to him. ‘And the same on the next hand. If you like,’ he added.
‘All right, all right,’ said Drax impatiently. ‘If you want to throw good money after bad.’
‘You seem very certain about this hand,’ said Bond indifferently, picking up his cards. They were a poor lot and he had no answer to Drax’s opening No Trump except to double it. The bluff had no effect on Drax’s partner. Meyer said, ‘Two No Trumps,’ and Bond was relieved when M., with no long suit, said, ‘No bid.’ Drax left it in two No Trumps and made the contract.
‘Thanks,’ he said with relish, and wrote carefully on his score. ‘Now let’s see if you can get it back.’
Much to his annoyance, Bond couldn’t. The cards still ran for Meyer and Drax and they made three hearts and the game.
Drax was pleased with himself. He took a long swallow at his whisky and soda and wiped down his face with his bandana handkerchief.
‘God is with the big battalions,’ he said jovially. ‘Got to have the cards as well as play them. Coming back for more or had enough?’
Bond’s champagne had come and was standing beside him in its silver bucket. There was a glass goblet three-quarters full beside it on the side table. Bond picked it up and drained it, as if to give himself Dutch courage. Then he filled it again.
‘All right,’ he said thickly, ‘a hundred on the next two hands.’
And promptly lost them both, and the rubber.
Bond suddenly realized that he was nearly £1,500 down. He drank another glass of champagne. ‘Save trouble if we just
M. smiled across at Bond. The same thought was in both their minds. So Drax wanted to keep the deal. Bond shrugged his shoulders.
‘No objection,’ said M. ‘These seats seem to be doing their best for us.’
‘Up to now,’ said Drax, looking more cheerful.
And with reason. On the next hand he and Meyer bid and made a small slam in spades that required two hair-raising finesses, both of which Drax, after a good deal of pantomime and hemming and hawing, negotiated smoothly, each time commenting loudly on his good fortune.
‘Hugger, you’re wonderful,’ said Meyer fulsomely. ‘How the devil do you do it?’
Bond thought it time to sow a tiny seed. ‘Memory,’ he said.
Drax looked at him, sharply. ‘What do you mean, memory?’ he said. ‘What’s that got to do with taking a finesse?’
‘I was going to add “and card sense”,’ said Bond smoothly. ‘They’re the two qualities that make great card-players.’
‘Oh,’ said Drax slowly. ‘Yes, I see.’ He cut the cards to Bond and as Bond dealt he felt the other man’s eyes examining him carefully.
The game proceeded at an even pace. The cards refused to get hot and no one seemed inclined to take chances. M. doubled Meyer in an incautious four-spade bid and got him two down vulnerable, but on the next hand Drax went out with a lay-down three No Trumps. Bond’s win on the first rubber was wiped out and a bit more besides.
‘Anyone care for a drink?’ asked M. as he cut the cards to Drax for the third rubber. ‘James. A little more champagne. The second bottle always tastes better.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ said Bond.
The waiter came. The others ordered whiskies and sodas.
Drax turned to Bond. ‘This game needs livening up,’ he said. ‘A hundred we win this hand.’ He had completed the deal and the cards lay in neat piles in the centre of the table.
Bond looked at him. The damaged eye glared at him redly. The other was cold and hard and scornful. There were beads of sweat on either side of the large, beaky nose.
Bond wondered if he was having a fly thrown over him to see if he was suspicious of the deal. He decided to leave the man in doubt. It was a hundred down the drain, but it would give him an excuse for increasing the stakes later.
‘On your deal?’ he said with a smile. ‘Well,’ he weighed imaginary chances. ‘Yes. All right.’ An idea seemed to come to him. ‘And the same on the next hand. If you like,’ he added.
‘All right, all right,’ said Drax impatiently. ‘If you want to throw good money after bad.’
‘You seem very certain about this hand,’ said Bond indifferently, picking up his cards. They were a poor lot and he had no answer to Drax’s opening No Trump except to double it. The bluff had no effect on Drax’s partner. Meyer said, ‘Two No Trumps,’ and Bond was relieved when M., with no long suit, said, ‘No bid.’ Drax left it in two No Trumps and made the contract.
‘Thanks,’ he said with relish, and wrote carefully on his score. ‘Now let’s see if you can get it back.’
Much to his annoyance, Bond couldn’t. The cards still ran for Meyer and Drax and they made three hearts and the game.
Drax was pleased with himself. He took a long swallow at his whisky and soda and wiped down his face with his bandana handkerchief.
‘God is with the big battalions,’ he said jovially. ‘Got to have the cards as well as play them. Coming back for more or had enough?’
Bond’s champagne had come and was standing beside him in its silver bucket. There was a glass goblet three-quarters full beside it on the side table. Bond picked it up and drained it, as if to give himself Dutch courage. Then he filled it again.
‘All right,’ he said thickly, ‘a hundred on the next two hands.’
And promptly lost them both, and the rubber.
Bond suddenly realized that he was nearly £1,500 down. He drank another glass of champagne. ‘Save trouble if we just
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