Read Online The Ian Fleming Files by Damian Stevenson, Box Set, Espionage Thrillers, European Thrillers, World War 2 Books, Novels Set In World War 2, Ian Fleming Biography, Action, Adventure Books, 7 Books, Spy Novels - Free Book Online

other deadly
secrets nature held, what drugs and serums could be extracted or synthesized
from the explosion of colors around him and used for analgesic or toxic
purposes, to heal the wounded or to destroy the enemy.
    He thought of the
energy enhancing drugs that the German army was rumored to be dabbling with. It
was said that the Nazis dispensed a drug to its troops that was a thousand
times more powerful than caffeine and twenty-five times more potent than the
Benzedrine tablets Fleming was once issued with. He wondered what a powerful
narcotic like that would do to the body over time. The bennies had made him
depressed. Hitler was raising an army of zombies. Junkies in jackboots. Good,
let him continue, thought Fleming as he made his way through the lurid, oppressive
vegetation toward the far end of the glass house where he could hear the echo
of voices.
    He was soon in the
company of Major H.Q.A. Reeves and Lord Suffolk. Introductions went around and
they shook hands.
    Reeves was a minor
legend who had invented the Welrod, sleeve gun, a silencer for the Sten gun and
fluorescent night sights. Lord Suffolk was a young inventor on the come who had
created a stir recently with a compass hidden in a button that unscrewed
clockwise.
    Reeves was in his
fifties and wore a lab coat with bottle-glass spectacles on his owlish face. He
was stout and bearded. Suffolk was in his thirties and draped in hip, well-cut
beige herring-bone tweed. He had a boyish, youthful face with bright shining
eyes that sparkled.
    “Welcome to the Ministry
of Supply,” said Suffolk. “Apologies for the meeting place but all the other
rooms are being used. Bit of a mild panic here since Dunkirk.”
    “I quite like it,”
said Reeves. “Good for my rheumatism.”
    Fleming twisted a
smile. What a strange pair, he thought. Behind them, through the glass panes,
he could see engineers and technicians developing unusual weapons and other top
secret devices for use by agents in the field.
    He felt flushed
and dabbed his damp forehead with a handkerchief. The thermometer showed 100
degrees. Fleming blinked at it.
    “Pay attention,
Commander.” Suffolk directed his gaze to a Mont Blanc fountain pen which he
opened.
    “One twist and
you’re all set for writing home to dear old mummy.”
    He wrote “Dear
Mummy” on a blotter.
    “Two twists,” he
turned it again, “and the nib becomes pressurized with an inert gas designed to
emit a one inch stream of fluid acid.”
    He squirted it at
a piece of aluminum, causing the surface to corrode. “This is technically known
as a gas pistol. Two kinds of cartridge, lethal and non-lethal.” He handed
Fleming the pen and a box of refills.
    Fleming was
delighted. “The pen is mightier than the sword!” He studied the modified
writing instrument for a moment before carefully slotting the pen and
cartridges into his shirt pocket.
    Reeves produced a
deck of playing cards and suavely fanned them in a circle like a card sharp.
    “What’s your game,
Commander?”
    “Baccarat,
vingt-et-un. Depends.”
    Reeves splayed the
cards out in a row, deftly flipped them over and selected one at random. The
Queen of Hearts.
    “Never trust a
woman!” He peeled the card’s face back to reveal a detailed map. “One country
per suit: Diamonds France, Spades Germany, Spain Hearts and Italy Clubs. Each
number represents a different region. Major cities in the court cards.”
    “Ingenious!”
Fleming said, taking the cards from him.
    The door opened
and a white-jacketed servant entered wheeling a tea-wagon bearing a pitcher of
fresh lemonade. Ice cubes tinkled in the liquid.
    Fleming went to
get a drink when Lord Suffolk blocked him, much to his annoyance. “One more
thing, Commander.” He snapped opened up a small tin case and took out a set of
shoelaces.
    “Uh, very nice,”
said Fleming. “I don’t normally carry spares but you never know...”
    “You never know is
right!”
    Suffolk slipped
the protective cuffs off the