Read Online Chitty Chitty Bang Bang by Ian Fleming - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ian Fleming
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struggle and squeak. But, alas, not loud enough!
Mimsie woke up and said sleepily to Commander Pott, "Did you hear that squeaking? It sounded sort of muffled. I suppose it wasn't the children."
But Commander Pott only gave a sleepy grunt and said, "I expect it was bats or mice," and went firmly off to sleep again. And neither of them paid any attention to the sound of the black car starting up and softly driving away.
Fortunately, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG had smelled trouble. Heaven knows how, but there it is. There was much about this magical car that even Commander Pott, who was an inventor, a mechanic, and an engineer, couldn't understand. All I can say is that, as the gangsters' low black roadster stole away down the moonlit streets, perhaps its movement jolted something or made some electrical connection in the mysterious insides of CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG, but anyway, there was the tiny soft whirr of machinery, hardly louder than the buzz of a mosquito, and behind the mascot on the hood a small antenna, like a wireless aerial, rose softly, and the small oval bit of wire mesh in miniature, rather like what you see on top of the big radar towers at airports, began to swivel until it was directly pointing after the gangsters' car which was now hurtling up the great main road toward Paris.
And all through the night, while Commander Pott and Mimsie were asleep, and while the twins were being bumped about in the back of the gangsters' car, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG'S Radar Eye was following every twist and turn of Joe the Monster, hunched over the wheel of his black tourer.
Now, Joe the Monster was in fact head of an international gang of robbers and ruffians and he was known in France as Joe le Monstre. (I hope this isn't the first French word you've learned!) And when things got too hot for him in England, he moved his gang over to France and vice versa.
As soon as they got out of the town of Calais, he ordered the knots on top of the sheet bundles which contained Jeremy and Jemima to be undone by Soapy Sam and Blood-Money Banks, between whom the twins were wedged on the back seat. For although he was a monster in the eyes of the law, neither he nor his gang of crooks were so monstrous as to want Jeremy and Jemima to suffocate.
The two children were too startled to know really what was happening to them. They both knew it wasn't something good, but being children of rather adventurous parents, they weren't easily frightened.
Joe the Monster leaned back from the wheel and said over his shoulder, in a voice that was meant to be sugary, "Now then, duckies, everything's quite all right. Your dear pa and ma have asked us to take you for a little night drive to see something of the French countryside by moonlight." He turned to Man-Mountain Fink, who sat beside him, "Ain't that right, Man-Mountain?''
"Absolutely-one-hundred-per-cent-right-and-cross-my-heart-and-wish-to-die," said the big man all in one breath.
"Hear that, my duckies?" called Joe the Monster above the rushing of the wind. "You're in good hands, the very best. You just go off to bye-byes and when you wakey-wakey there'll be a delicious brekky waiting for you."
Now, if there is one thing the twins, and most other children of their age, hate it is being talked to in baby language. Certainly, as far as Jeremy was concerned, he would much prefer Joe to be monstrous rather than niminy-piminy. At least you know where you are with grownups who behave like grownups, but no child likes a grownup to talk like a baby.
But truth to tell, both Jeremy and Jemima were too sleepy from the previous day's adventures to care very much what was happening to them, so they snuggled up together and Jemima was soon fast asleep. But before Jeremy dozed off, he heard snatches of conversation between Joe the Monster and Man-Mountain Fink drifting back from the front seat.
And the snatches of conversation were something like this: "Just what we want for the Bon-Bon job ... innocent
Mimsie woke up and said sleepily to Commander Pott, "Did you hear that squeaking? It sounded sort of muffled. I suppose it wasn't the children."
But Commander Pott only gave a sleepy grunt and said, "I expect it was bats or mice," and went firmly off to sleep again. And neither of them paid any attention to the sound of the black car starting up and softly driving away.
Fortunately, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG had smelled trouble. Heaven knows how, but there it is. There was much about this magical car that even Commander Pott, who was an inventor, a mechanic, and an engineer, couldn't understand. All I can say is that, as the gangsters' low black roadster stole away down the moonlit streets, perhaps its movement jolted something or made some electrical connection in the mysterious insides of CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG, but anyway, there was the tiny soft whirr of machinery, hardly louder than the buzz of a mosquito, and behind the mascot on the hood a small antenna, like a wireless aerial, rose softly, and the small oval bit of wire mesh in miniature, rather like what you see on top of the big radar towers at airports, began to swivel until it was directly pointing after the gangsters' car which was now hurtling up the great main road toward Paris.
And all through the night, while Commander Pott and Mimsie were asleep, and while the twins were being bumped about in the back of the gangsters' car, CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG'S Radar Eye was following every twist and turn of Joe the Monster, hunched over the wheel of his black tourer.
Now, Joe the Monster was in fact head of an international gang of robbers and ruffians and he was known in France as Joe le Monstre. (I hope this isn't the first French word you've learned!) And when things got too hot for him in England, he moved his gang over to France and vice versa.
As soon as they got out of the town of Calais, he ordered the knots on top of the sheet bundles which contained Jeremy and Jemima to be undone by Soapy Sam and Blood-Money Banks, between whom the twins were wedged on the back seat. For although he was a monster in the eyes of the law, neither he nor his gang of crooks were so monstrous as to want Jeremy and Jemima to suffocate.
The two children were too startled to know really what was happening to them. They both knew it wasn't something good, but being children of rather adventurous parents, they weren't easily frightened.
Joe the Monster leaned back from the wheel and said over his shoulder, in a voice that was meant to be sugary, "Now then, duckies, everything's quite all right. Your dear pa and ma have asked us to take you for a little night drive to see something of the French countryside by moonlight." He turned to Man-Mountain Fink, who sat beside him, "Ain't that right, Man-Mountain?''
"Absolutely-one-hundred-per-cent-right-and-cross-my-heart-and-wish-to-die," said the big man all in one breath.
"Hear that, my duckies?" called Joe the Monster above the rushing of the wind. "You're in good hands, the very best. You just go off to bye-byes and when you wakey-wakey there'll be a delicious brekky waiting for you."
Now, if there is one thing the twins, and most other children of their age, hate it is being talked to in baby language. Certainly, as far as Jeremy was concerned, he would much prefer Joe to be monstrous rather than niminy-piminy. At least you know where you are with grownups who behave like grownups, but no child likes a grownup to talk like a baby.
But truth to tell, both Jeremy and Jemima were too sleepy from the previous day's adventures to care very much what was happening to them, so they snuggled up together and Jemima was soon fast asleep. But before Jeremy dozed off, he heard snatches of conversation between Joe the Monster and Man-Mountain Fink drifting back from the front seat.
And the snatches of conversation were something like this: "Just what we want for the Bon-Bon job ... innocent
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