Read Online Bond Movies 06 - The World Is Not Enough by Raymond Benson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Raymond Benson
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slopes was skydiving. The rush of wind on his body was invigorating as he felt his adrenaline kick in. The skis were good ones: they had a turning radius of twenty-six metres. Two ribs ran the length of the skis to deliver good torsional properties. Bond considered it important to have an excellent front to back flex with minimal bending from side to side, plus a smooth feeling of stability.
He caught up with her just as the slope levelled out. She pulled to the edge of a cliff and stopped cleanly. Bond arrived a moment behind her.
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘You ski very well, Mister Bond.’
‘You seem to enjoy being chased. Probably happens all the time.'
‘Less often that you might think.’
She pointed to the sparkling, white valley below. A line of survey flags ran down the middle.
‘We’re building from both ends,’ she said, a bit breathless. ‘Four hundred miles in that direction are the new oil fields in the Caspian Sea. Four hundred miles that way is the Mediterranean,’
‘So they meet here,’ Bond said, appreciating the strategy behind the company’s plans.
‘When the Persian Gulf and all the other oil fields have dried up, which mil happen at the rate the world keeps increasing its demand for oil, this will once again be the heart of the earth. We’ll still be pumping our lifeblood. And this will be the main artery.’
‘Your father’s legacy?’
‘My family’s legacy. To the world’
They stood there a moment as she calculated distances in her head and studied the arrangement of survey flags. He watched her, admiring the determination and dedication she had for the work. He liked a girl who was passionate about something and he had to resist the urge to take her in his arms.
Without warning, she pushed off with her sticks and soared down the slope toward the flags. Bond chuckled to himself. The girl really did like to be chased. He saw right through her. This was all for his benefit - a test, perhaps, to see what he was made of. Well, if it was a chase she wanted . . .
He pushed off and followed her, manoeuvring easily between the survey markers. She zigzagged through them as if she were on a professional obstacle course. Bond mimicked her every move and stayed in perfect synchronisation behind her. At one point, she leapt over a ridge, sailed through the air for twenty feet and landed with the form of an Olympic champion. Bond went over the ridge with a little more speed than she did and almost spilled. He caught his balance as he landed, but he was thankful she hadn’t seen the slightly awkward jump.
She had stopped again by another ridge. He pulled up beside her and stopped.
‘You’re not getting tired are you?’ she asked, peering out over another slope of survey markers.
‘Not on your life,’ he replied. What a handful this girl was! He watched her as she studied the positions of the markers and made mental notes. What was especially attractive about her was the way she could appear aloof toward him; yet he could sense that she was watching him out of the comer of her eye at all times. Bond knew enough about women to glean that she was attempting to hide the fact that she was interested in him.
The sound above them interrupted his reverie. It was not the helicopter that had given them a lift. He looked up and saw four dark objects falling from the back of a Casa 212 aeroplane. As they plummeted silently toward the earth, parachutes popped open, slowing their descent. Elektra noticed them, too.
‘Parahawks,’ she said. ‘Four men on Parahawks. ’
They were ingenious, deadly devices. ‘Parahawks’ were essentially low-flying, sleek, all-terrain, all season snowmobiles made of fully welded, lightweight, aircraft grade aluminum frames. They came equipped with high performance parachutes, handle bar steering and thumb throttle control. The parachutes could be adjusted in flight, allowing the pilots to vary speed by about five miles per hour. Powered by Rotax 582, 65
He caught up with her just as the slope levelled out. She pulled to the edge of a cliff and stopped cleanly. Bond arrived a moment behind her.
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘You ski very well, Mister Bond.’
‘You seem to enjoy being chased. Probably happens all the time.'
‘Less often that you might think.’
She pointed to the sparkling, white valley below. A line of survey flags ran down the middle.
‘We’re building from both ends,’ she said, a bit breathless. ‘Four hundred miles in that direction are the new oil fields in the Caspian Sea. Four hundred miles that way is the Mediterranean,’
‘So they meet here,’ Bond said, appreciating the strategy behind the company’s plans.
‘When the Persian Gulf and all the other oil fields have dried up, which mil happen at the rate the world keeps increasing its demand for oil, this will once again be the heart of the earth. We’ll still be pumping our lifeblood. And this will be the main artery.’
‘Your father’s legacy?’
‘My family’s legacy. To the world’
They stood there a moment as she calculated distances in her head and studied the arrangement of survey flags. He watched her, admiring the determination and dedication she had for the work. He liked a girl who was passionate about something and he had to resist the urge to take her in his arms.
Without warning, she pushed off with her sticks and soared down the slope toward the flags. Bond chuckled to himself. The girl really did like to be chased. He saw right through her. This was all for his benefit - a test, perhaps, to see what he was made of. Well, if it was a chase she wanted . . .
He pushed off and followed her, manoeuvring easily between the survey markers. She zigzagged through them as if she were on a professional obstacle course. Bond mimicked her every move and stayed in perfect synchronisation behind her. At one point, she leapt over a ridge, sailed through the air for twenty feet and landed with the form of an Olympic champion. Bond went over the ridge with a little more speed than she did and almost spilled. He caught his balance as he landed, but he was thankful she hadn’t seen the slightly awkward jump.
She had stopped again by another ridge. He pulled up beside her and stopped.
‘You’re not getting tired are you?’ she asked, peering out over another slope of survey markers.
‘Not on your life,’ he replied. What a handful this girl was! He watched her as she studied the positions of the markers and made mental notes. What was especially attractive about her was the way she could appear aloof toward him; yet he could sense that she was watching him out of the comer of her eye at all times. Bond knew enough about women to glean that she was attempting to hide the fact that she was interested in him.
The sound above them interrupted his reverie. It was not the helicopter that had given them a lift. He looked up and saw four dark objects falling from the back of a Casa 212 aeroplane. As they plummeted silently toward the earth, parachutes popped open, slowing their descent. Elektra noticed them, too.
‘Parahawks,’ she said. ‘Four men on Parahawks. ’
They were ingenious, deadly devices. ‘Parahawks’ were essentially low-flying, sleek, all-terrain, all season snowmobiles made of fully welded, lightweight, aircraft grade aluminum frames. They came equipped with high performance parachutes, handle bar steering and thumb throttle control. The parachutes could be adjusted in flight, allowing the pilots to vary speed by about five miles per hour. Powered by Rotax 582, 65
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