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Tee…Hee was either dead or dying。 He lay spread…eagled on his back。 His striped tie lay across his face like a squashed adder。 Bond felt no remorse。 He frisked the body for a gun and found one stuck in the waistband of the lavender trousers； now stained with blood。 It was a Colt 。38 Detective Special with a sawn barrel。 All chambers were loaded。 Bond slipped the useless Beretta back in its holster。 He nestled the big gun into his palm and smiled grimly。
A small door faced him； bolted on the inside。 Bond put his ear to it。 The muffled sound of an engine reached him。 This must be the garage。 But the running engine？ At that time of the morning？ Bond ground his teeth。 Of course。 Mr。 Big would have spoken on the inter and warned them that Tee…Hee was bringing him down。 They must be wondering what was holding him。 They were probably watching the door for the negro to emerge。
Bond thought for a moment。 He had the advantage of surprise。 If only the bolts were well…oiled。
His left hand was almost useless。 With the Colt in his right； he' tested the first bolt with the edge of his damaged hand。 It slipped easily back。 So did the second。 There remained only a press…down handle。 He eased it down and pulled the door softly towards him。
It was a thick door and the noise of the engine got louder as the crack widened。 The car must be just outside。 Any further movement of the door would betray him。 He whipped it open and stood facing sideways like a fencer so as to offer as small a target as possible。 The hammer lay back on his gun。
A few feet away stood a black sedan； its engine running。 It faced the open double doors of the garage。 Bright arc…lights lit up the shining bodywork of several other cars。 There was a big negro at the wheel of the sedan and another stood near him； leaning against the rear door。 No one else was in view。
At sight of Bond the negroes' mouths fell open in astonishment。 A cigarette dropped from the mouth of the man at the wheel。 Then they both dived for their guns。
Instinctively； Bond shot first at the man standing； knowing he would be quickest on the draw。
The heavy gun roared hollowly in the garage。
The negro clutched his stomach with both hands； staggered two steps towards Bond； and collapsed on his face； his gun clattering on to the concrete。
The man at the wheel screamed as Bond's gun swung on to him。 Hampered by the wheel the negro's shooting hand was still inside his coat。
Bond shot straight into the screaming mouth and the man's head crashed against the side window。
Bond ran round the car and opened the door。 The negro sprawled horribly out。 Bond threw his revolver on to the driving…seat and yanked the body out on to the ground。 He tried to avoid the blood。 He got into the seat and blessed the running engine and the steering…wheel gear…lever。 He slammed the door； rested his injured hand on the left of the wheel and crashed the lever forward。
The hand…brake was still on。 He had to lean under the wheel to release it with his right hand。
It was a dangerous pause。 As the heavy car surged forward out of the wide doors there was the boom of a gun and a bullet hammered into the bodywork。 He tore the wheel round right…handed and there was another shot that missed high。 Across the street a window splintered。
The flash came from low down near the floor and Bond guessed that the first negro had somehow managed to reach his gun。
There were no other shots and no sound came from the blank faces of the buildings behind him。 As he went through the gears he could see nothing in the driving…mirror except the broad bar of light from the garage shining out across the dark empty street。
Bond had no idea where he was or where he was heading。 It was a wide featureless street and he kept going。 He found himself driving on the left…hand side and quickly swerved over to the right。 His hand hurt terribly but the thumb and forefinger helped to steady the wheel。 He tried to remember to keep his left side away from the blood on the door and window。 The endless street was populated only by the little ghosts of steam that wavered up out of the gratings in the asphalt that gave access to the piped heat system of the city。 The ugly bonnet of the car mowed them down one by one； but in the driving…mirror Bond could see them rising again behind him in a diminishing vista of mildly gesticulating white wraiths。
He kept the big car at fifty。 He came to some red traffic lights and jumped them。 Several more dark blocks and then there was a lighted avenue。 There was traffic and he paused until the lights went green。 He turned left and was rewarded by a succession of green lights； each one sweeping him on and further away from the enemy。 He checked at an intersection and read the signs。 He was on Park Avenue and 116th Street。 He slowed again at the next street。 It was 115th。 He was heading downtown； away from Harlem； back into the City。 He kept going。 He turned off at Goth Street。 It was deserted。 He switched off the engine and left the car opposite a fire hydrant。 He took the gun off the seat； shoved it down the waistband of his trousers and walked back to Park Avenue。
A few minutes later he flagged a prowling cab and then suddenly he was walking up the steps of the St。 Regis。
'Message for you； Mr。 Bond；' said the night porter。 Bond kept his left side away from him。 He opened the message with his right hand。 It was from Felix Leiter； timed at four a。m。 'Call me at once；' it said。
Bond walked to the elevator and was carried up to his floor。 He let himself into 21：00 and went through into the sitting…room。
So both of them were alive。 Bond fell into a chair beside the telephone。
'God Almighty；' said Bond with deep gratitude。 'What a break。'
CHAPTER IX
TRUE OR FALSE？
BOND looked at the telephone； then he got up and walked over to the sideboard。 He put a handful of wilted icecubes into a tall glass； poured in three inches of Haig and Haig and swilled the mixture round in the glass to cool and dilute it。 Then he drank down half the glass in one long swallow。 He put the glass down and eased himself out of his coat。 His left hand was so swollen that he could only just get it through the sleeve。 His little finger was still crooked back and the pain was vicious as it scraped against the cloth。 The ringer was nearly black。 He pulled down his tie and undid the top of his shirt。 Then he picked up his glass； took another deep swallow； and walked back to the telephone。
Leiter answered at once。
'Thank God；' said Leiter with real feeling。 'What's the damage？〃
'Broken finger；' said Bond。 'How about you？'
'Blackjack。 Knocked out。 Nothing serious。 They started off by considering all sorts of ingenious things。 Wanted to couple me to the pressed…air pump in the garage。 Start on the ears and then proceed elsewhere。 When no instructions came from The Big Man they got bored and I got to arguing the finer points of Jazz with Blabbermouth； the man with the fancy six…shooter。 We got on to Duke Ellington and agreed that we liked our band…leaders to be percussion men； not wind。 We agreed the piano or the drums held the band together better than any other solo instrument … Jelly…roll Morton； for instance。 Apropos the Duke； I told him the crack about the clarinet … 〃an ill woodwind that nobody blows good〃。 That made him laugh fit to bust。 Suddenly we were friends。 The other man … The Flannel； he was called … got sour and Blabbermouth told him he could go off duty； he'd look after me。 Then The Big Man rang down。'
'I was there；' said Bond。 'It didn't sound so hot。'
'Blabbermouth was worried as hell。 He wandered round the room talking to himself。 Suddenly he used the blackjack； hard； and I went out。 Next thing I knew we were outside Bellevue Hospital。 About half after three。 Blabbermouth was very apologetic； said it was the least he could have done。 I believe him。 He begged me not to give him away。 Said he was going to report that he'd left me half dead。 Of course I promised to leak back some very lurid details。 We parted on the best of terms。 I got some treatment at the Emergency ward and came home。 I was worried to Hell an' gone about you； but after a while the telephone started ringing。 Police and FBI。 Seems The Big Man has plained that some fool Limey went berserk at The Boneyard early this morning； shot three of his men … two chauffeurs and a waiter； if you please … stole one of his cars and got away； leaving his overcoat and hat in the cloakroom。 The Big Man's yelling for action。 Of course I warned off the dicks and the FBI； but they're madder'n hell and we've got to get out of town at once。 It'll miss the mornings but it'll be splashed all over the afternoon blatts and Radio and TV'll have it。 Apart from all that； Mr。 Big will be after you like a nest of hornets。 Anyway； I've got some plans fixed。 Now you tell； and God； am I glad to hear your voice！'
Bond gave a detailed account of all that had happened。 He forgot nothing。 When he had finished； Leiter gave a low whistle。
'Boy；' he said with admiration。 'You certainly made a dent in The Big Man's machine。 But were you lucky。 That Solitaire dame certainly seems to have saved your bacon。 D'you think we can use her？'
'Could if we could