There was another movement； this time to the right。
Bond's reflexes and intuition warned of danger； and he brought the ASP up in the direction of this new threat。
The triple yellow walls； which angle to form the Guttersnipe sight； fell automatically into their pattern； right on target； showing another figure running low between the trees； and much too close for fort。 From the corner of his eye； he saw the first man bringing his revolver up in a two…handed grip。 Then he heard the unmistakable click of a revolver hammer being drawn back； very close behind him。 The sharp burning cold of a muzzle touched the side of his neck gently。
〃Drop it； Mr。 Bond。 Please don't try anything silly。 Just drop the gun。
Bond had no desire to get himself killed at this point in his career。 He tossed the ASP on to the ground。
〃Good。〃 The voice was soft； slightly lilting。 〃Now； hands on the head； please。〃 The two men who had been in Bond's sights were now standing； ing forward； the one to his left with arms outstretched； holding a snub…nosed revolver in the two handed grip； the arms steady as iron bars。 His eyes never left the captive。 Bond was in no doubt that two bullets would reach him fast if he made any wrong move。 The other came in quickly； scooping up the fallen ASP like a predatory bird swooping on to its prey。
〃Right； now get to your feet very slowly；' the voice continued； the gun muzzle detaching itself from just behind Bond's ear。 There was the sound of feet shuffling as the man stepped back。 〃That manoeuvre was rather good； wasn't it？ We knew roughly where you had gone to ground； so it was just a matter of showing you someone with stealth and another with speed。 The lads went through that little farce three times before they found the right place。 It's the kind of fieldcraft we teach。 Please turn around。〃
〃Who teaches？〃 Bond demanded as he turned and faced a tall； well…built man in his mid…thirties with tight； curly hair； dark above matching jet eyes； a square face； a large nose and full lips。 Women would find him attractive； Bond thought。 The dark plexion was overlaid with a hard； sunbaked tan。 It was the eyes that really gave him away。 They had that particular look； as it； for years； they had searched horizons for the telltale sign of dust； or the sky for a speck； or an outcrop of rock for movement； or doorways and windows for muzzle flashes。
Those eyes had probably been doing that kind of thing since childhood。 Nationality？ Who could tell？ One of the Middle Eastern countries； but whether he came from Jerusalem； Beirut or Cairo was impossible to tell。 Possibly a hybrid； Bond thought。
〃Who teaches？〃 he asked again。
The young man lifted an eyebrow。 〃You might get to find out； Mr。 Bond。 Who knows？〃 The smile was not unfriendly。 〃Now；' he said； 〃we have to move you； and I cannot be certain you'll sit still。〃 He gave a short laugh。
〃I rather think my superiors want you alive and in one piece； so would you take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve？〃 Two more figures rose from the bushes as the senior man holstered his weapon； reaching into a hip pocket to bring out a hard oblong box。
One of the newers helped remove Bond's jacket while the other's hands rested firmly on his shoulders。
Unresisting； Bond allowed them to roll up his sleeve while the leader filled a hypodermic syringe； lifting it so that the needle pointed upwards。 A tiny squirt of colourless liquid arched into the air。 Bond felt a damp swab on the upper part of his arm。
〃It's okay；' the leader said with a smile。 〃We do want you in one piece； I assure you。 As the actress said to the bishop； just a little 。 。 。 er 。 。 。 a little jab。〃 Somebody gave a loud laugh； and Bond heard another say something in a language he did not recognise。 He did not even feel the needle slide home。
At first he thought he was in a helicopter； lying flat on his back with the machine bucking under him。 He could hear the chug of the engine turning the rotor blades。
Then； far away； came the rip of automatic firing。 For a time； Bond drifted away again； then the helicopter sensation returned； acpanied by a series of loud explosions near at hand。
Opening his eyes； he saw an electric fan turning slowly above his head； and became aware of white walls and the simple metal bedframe on which he lay； fully dressed。
He propped himself on one arm。 Physically he felt fine： no nausea； no headache； eyes focused properly。 He held out his right hand； fingers splayed。 There was no tremor。
The room； bare of furniture apart from the bed； had just one door and a window covered with mesh inside and bars on the outside。
Sunlight appeared dimly through the aperture。
As he swung his feet on to the floor he heard another distant explosion。 He stood up and found his legs steady。
Halfway to the door； there came the sound of more machine…gun fire … again at a distance。 The door was locked； and he could make out little through the window。
The mesh on the inside was a thick papery adhesive substance； which had been applied to the panes of glass； making it impossible to get any clear view。 It would also prevent fragmentation from blast。
Bond was convinced he was not in England。 The temperature inside the little white room； even with the fan turning round and round； was not induced by the kind of heat you ever got in England； even in the most brilliant of summers。
The sounds of small arms fire； punctuated by the occasional explosion； suggested he was in some war zone。
He tried the door again； then had a look at the lock。 It was solid； well…made； and more than efficient。 There would almost certainly be bolts on the outside too。
Methodically he went through his pockets but found nothing。 They had cleaned him out。 Even his watch was missing； and the metal bedframe appeared to be a one…piece affair。 Given time； and some kind of lever； he might be able to force a piece of thick wire from the springs； but it would be an arduous business and he had no way of knowing how long he would be left alone。
When in doubt； do nothing； Bond thought。
He went back to the bed and stretched out； going over the events still fresh in his mind。 The attempt to get away with the puter programs。 Posting them。 The trailing cars。 The wood and his capture。
The needle。 He was the only one to have fired a shot。 Almost certainly he had hit … probably killed … one of them。 Yet； apart from their natural caution； they had been careful to make sure that he was unharmed。 A connection between his visit to Jay Autem Holy and the current situation was probable； though not certain。 Take nothing for granted。 Wait for revelations。 Expect the worst。
Bond lay there； mentally prepared； for the best part of twenty minutes。 At last there came footsteps … muffled； as though boots crunched over earth； but the tread had a decidedly military sound。
Bolts were drawn back and the door to Bond's room was unlocked and opened。
He caught a glimpse of sand； low white buildings and two armed men dressed in drab olive uniforms。 A third person stepped into the room。
He was the one who had administered the knock…out injection in the Oxfordshire wood。 Now he wore uniform … a simple olive drab battledress； smart with no insignia or badges of rank。 He had on desert boots and a revolver of high calibre holstered on the right of his webbing belt。 A long sheathed knife hung from the belt on the left。 His head was covered by a light brown； almost makeshift； kafflyeh held in place by a red band。 One of the men outside reached in and closed the door。
〃Had a good sleep； Mr。 Bond？〃 The man's smile was almost infectious。 As he looked up； Bond remembered his feelings about the eyes。
〃I'd rather have been awake。〃
〃You're all right； though？ No ill effects？〃 Bond shook his head。
〃Right。 My name's Simon。〃 The man was crisp and businesslike； extending a hand which Bond did not take。
〃We hold no grudge over our man；' he said after a slight pause。
〃You killed him； by the way。 But he was being paid to risk his life。〃 He shrugged。 〃We underestimated you； I fear。 My fault。 Nobody thought you'd be carrying a gun。 After all； you're not in the trad