Read Online Bond - 27 - Never send flowers by John Gardner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Gardner
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the glass to her lips.
`I'll use this couch, here. You take the bed." Still Fredericka did not reply, and after a while Bond said he would shower and leave her in peace. She was sitting, staring into space when he returned, having unpacked his garment bag, showered and slipped into the robe provided by the hotel.
She left the sitting-room, saying only that she would look in and see him before she went to bed.
Bond, feeling very restless, poured the last of the brandy into his glass and sat back to watch the CNN news. Half an hour later he barely heard the door to the bedroom open, and he just caught the whisper of clothing behind him. Looking around he saw Fredericka, framed in the doorway. She wore nothing but a filmy triangle of silk and lace, her hair gleamed, and the green eyes were wide open, so that he again felt she had the ability to drown him with a look.
`Ah, Fredericka's secret.
`Your secret, James." He rose and she came towards him, moulding her body to his, one hand reaching up, cradling the back of his head in her palm, fingers outstretched, pulling his lips on to her mouth.
`It's been a long time,' she whispered. `But I must have some comfort tonight. Please." The last word was not a plea, but something else which came from deep within her. Then, slowly she led him into the bedroom.
As he entered her, she let out a little cry of pleasure, rough at the back of her throat: the sound of somebody parched who sees a means to the slaking of thirst. For a second, he saw the face of someone else, long lost, instead of Fredericka, then it was gone as her own face and body worked a particular magic.
Neither of them heard the door to the sitting-room click open, nor the soft tread of the person who crossed in front of their door, for, by then, for a short time, the bedroom had become a raft adrift and far from land.
Then, with no warning, Bond softly put his hand over Fredericka's mouth.
`Wha ?` she began, but he called out loudly, `Who's there?" From the sitting-room a woman's voice, embarrassed, said, `The maid, sir.
I'm sorry, I thought you might want me to make up the room.
`No. No, that's all right." He smiled at Fredericka, pulling a face.
`That could have been very embarrassing,' he whispered. `I'd better go through and put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign." `If you have to. Bt be quick about it or I'll start again without you.
He went through into the sitting-room, put out the sign and slipped the night chain on to the door.
On his way back he saw his briefcase and, for safety's sake, carried it into the bedroom. In the back of his mind something nagged at him. The maid's voice. He thought that he had heard that voice before but could not identify it.
He put the briefcase down at the end of the bed, not knowing that the damage had already been done.
Later, Fredericka ploughed furrows down his back with long splayed hands, leaving deep scratches, and they moved together, alone. For a long time nobody else existed but the two of them, as they blotted out darker dreams and deeper horrors.
CHAPTER FIVE
LITTLE PINK CELLS
Bond's eyes snapped open, and he became alert, just before the telephone made its soft purring sound, heralding the wake-up call he had ordered for six a.m. He reached out, picked up the telephone and, after two or three seconds of listening, began to chuckle.
He was used to being wakened by recorded voices which, in most hotels, have now replaced the more personal touch of a real human being telling you it is six 0 clock in the morning, that the weather is good, bad or indifferent, and hoping that you will have a nice day.
Certainly, the wake-up call at the Victoria-Jungfrau was a recorded message, but with elaborations that could only be Swiss.
There was the tinkle of a music box through which girls' voices faded in and out, wishing the listener `Good Morning' in German, French, Italian, Dutch, Spanish, English, Japanese and as far as he knew, Urdu.
This elaborate mixture
`I'll use this couch, here. You take the bed." Still Fredericka did not reply, and after a while Bond said he would shower and leave her in peace. She was sitting, staring into space when he returned, having unpacked his garment bag, showered and slipped into the robe provided by the hotel.
She left the sitting-room, saying only that she would look in and see him before she went to bed.
Bond, feeling very restless, poured the last of the brandy into his glass and sat back to watch the CNN news. Half an hour later he barely heard the door to the bedroom open, and he just caught the whisper of clothing behind him. Looking around he saw Fredericka, framed in the doorway. She wore nothing but a filmy triangle of silk and lace, her hair gleamed, and the green eyes were wide open, so that he again felt she had the ability to drown him with a look.
`Ah, Fredericka's secret.
`Your secret, James." He rose and she came towards him, moulding her body to his, one hand reaching up, cradling the back of his head in her palm, fingers outstretched, pulling his lips on to her mouth.
`It's been a long time,' she whispered. `But I must have some comfort tonight. Please." The last word was not a plea, but something else which came from deep within her. Then, slowly she led him into the bedroom.
As he entered her, she let out a little cry of pleasure, rough at the back of her throat: the sound of somebody parched who sees a means to the slaking of thirst. For a second, he saw the face of someone else, long lost, instead of Fredericka, then it was gone as her own face and body worked a particular magic.
Neither of them heard the door to the sitting-room click open, nor the soft tread of the person who crossed in front of their door, for, by then, for a short time, the bedroom had become a raft adrift and far from land.
Then, with no warning, Bond softly put his hand over Fredericka's mouth.
`Wha ?` she began, but he called out loudly, `Who's there?" From the sitting-room a woman's voice, embarrassed, said, `The maid, sir.
I'm sorry, I thought you might want me to make up the room.
`No. No, that's all right." He smiled at Fredericka, pulling a face.
`That could have been very embarrassing,' he whispered. `I'd better go through and put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign." `If you have to. Bt be quick about it or I'll start again without you.
He went through into the sitting-room, put out the sign and slipped the night chain on to the door.
On his way back he saw his briefcase and, for safety's sake, carried it into the bedroom. In the back of his mind something nagged at him. The maid's voice. He thought that he had heard that voice before but could not identify it.
He put the briefcase down at the end of the bed, not knowing that the damage had already been done.
Later, Fredericka ploughed furrows down his back with long splayed hands, leaving deep scratches, and they moved together, alone. For a long time nobody else existed but the two of them, as they blotted out darker dreams and deeper horrors.
CHAPTER FIVE
LITTLE PINK CELLS
Bond's eyes snapped open, and he became alert, just before the telephone made its soft purring sound, heralding the wake-up call he had ordered for six a.m. He reached out, picked up the telephone and, after two or three seconds of listening, began to chuckle.
He was used to being wakened by recorded voices which, in most hotels, have now replaced the more personal touch of a real human being telling you it is six 0 clock in the morning, that the weather is good, bad or indifferent, and hoping that you will have a nice day.
Certainly, the wake-up call at the Victoria-Jungfrau was a recorded message, but with elaborations that could only be Swiss.
There was the tinkle of a music box through which girls' voices faded in and out, wishing the listener `Good Morning' in German, French, Italian, Dutch, Spanish, English, Japanese and as far as he knew, Urdu.
This elaborate mixture
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