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contains sixteen true measures double measures, that is, the only ones I drink. Cut the
gin with three ounces of water and that makes it up to twenty-two. Have a jigger glass
with a big steal in the bottom and a bottle of these fat olives and you've got around
twenty-eight measures. Bottle of gin here costs only two dollars retail, let's say around a
dollar sixty wholesale. You charge eighty cents for a martini, a dollar sixty for two.
Same price as a whole bottle of gin. And with your twenty-eight measures to the bottle,
you've still got twenty-six left. That's a clear profit on one bottle of gin of around twenty-
one dollars. Give you a dollar for the olives and the drop of vermouth and you've still
got twenty dollars in your pocket. Now, my friend, that's too much profit, and if I could
be bothered to take this martini to the management and then to the Tourist Board, you'd
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be in trouble. Be a good chap and mix us two large dry martinis without olives and with
some slices of lemon peel separate. Okay? Right, then we're friends again.»
The barman's face had run through indignation, respect, and then the sullenness of
guilt and fear. Reprieved, but clutching at his scraps of professional dignity, he snapped
his fingers for the waiter to take away the glasses. «Okay, suh. Whatever you says. But
we've pot plenty overheads here and the majority of customers they doan complain.»
Leiter said, «Well, here's one who's dry behind the ears. A good barman should learn
to be able to recognize the serious drinker from the status-seeker who wants just to be
seen in your fine bar.»
«Yassuh.» The barman moved away with Negro dignity.
Bond said, «You got those figures right, Felix? I always knew one got clipped, but I
thought only about a hundred per cent not four or five.»
«Young man, since I graduated from Government Service to Pinkertons, the scales
have dropped from my eyes. The cheating that goes on in hotels and restaurants is
more sinful than all the rest of the sin in the world. Anyone in a tuxedo before seven in
the evening is a crocodile, and if he couldn't take a good bite at your pocketbook he'd
take a good bite at your ear. The same goes for the rest of the consumer business,
even when it's not wearing a tuxedo. Sometimes it gets me real mad to have to eat and
drink the muck you get and then see what you're charged for it. Look at our damned
lunch today. Six, seven bucks with fifteen per cent added for what's called service. And
then the waiter hangs about for another fifty cents for riding up in the elevator with the
stuff. Hell» Leiter ran an angry hand through his mop of straw hair »just don't let's talk
about it. I'm fit to bust a gut when I think about it.»
The drinks came. They were excellent. Leiter calmed down and ordered a second
round. He said, «Now let's get angry about something else.» He laughed curtly. «Guess
I'm just sore at being back in Government Service again watching all the taxpayers'
money going down the drain on this wild goose chase. Mark you, James» there was
apology in Leiter's voice »I'm not saying this whole operation isn't a true bill, hell of a
mess in fact, but what riles me is that we should be a couple of arse-end Charlies
stuck down on this sand spit while the other guys have got the hot spots you know,
places where something really may be happening or at least likely to happen. Tell you
the truth, I felt like a damned fool gumshoeing around that feller's yacht this afternoon
with my little Geiger toy.» He looked keenly at Bond. «You don't find you grow out of
these things? I mean it's all right when there's a war on. But it seems kinda childish
when Peace is bustin' out all over.»
Bond said doubtfully, «Of course I know what you mean, Felix. Perhaps it's just that in
England we don't feel quite as secure as you do in America. The war just doesn't seem
to have ended for us Berlin, Cyprus, Kenya, Suez, let alone these jobs with people like
SMERSH that I used to get tangled up in. There always seems to be something boiling
up somewhere. Now this damned business. Dare say I'm taking it all too seriously, but
there's something fishy going on around here. I checked up on that fuel problem and
Largo certainly told us a lie.» Bond gave the details of what he had learned at police
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headquarters. «I feel I've got to make sure tonight. You realize there's only about
seventy hours to go? If I find anything, I suggest tomorrow we take a small plane and
really run a search over as much of the area as we can. That plane's a big thing to hide
even under water. You still got your license?»
«Sure, sure.» Leiter shrugged his shoulders. «I'll go along with you. Of course I will. If
we find anything, perhaps the signal I got this evening won't look so damned silly after
all.»
So this was what had put Leiter into such a vile temper! Bond said, «What was that?»
Leiter took a drink and gazed morosely into his glass. «Well, for my money it's just so
much more attitudinizing by those power-struck fatcats at the Pentagon. But that sheaf
of stuff I was waving about was a circular to all our men on this job to say that the Army
and the Navy and the Air Force are holding themselves ready to give full support to
C.I.A. if anything turns up. Think of that, dammit!» Leiter looked angrily at Bond. «Think
of the waste of fuel and manpower that must be going on all over the world keeping all
these units at readiness! Just to show you, know what I've been allocated as my
striking force?» Leiter gave a harsh, derisive laugh. «Half squadron of Super Sabre
fighter bombers from Pensacola, and » Leiter stabbed at Bond's forearm with a hard
finger »and, my friend, the Manta! The Manta! Our latest atomic submarine!»
When Bond smiled at all this vehemence, Leiter continued more reasonably: «Mark
you, it's not quite so idiotic as it sounds. These Sabres are on anti-submarine sweep
duties anyway. Carrying depth charges. They have to be at readiness. And the Manta
happens to be on some sort of a training cruise in the area, getting ready to go under
the South Pole for a change I suppose, or some other damned promotion job to help
along the Navy Estimates. But I ask you! Here's all these million dollars' worth of
material on instant call from Ensign Leiter, commanding Room 201 in the Royal
Bahamian Hotel! Not bad!»
Bond shrugged his shoulders. «Seems to me your President is taking all this a bit
more seriously than his man in Nassau. I suppose our Chiefs of Staff have weighed in
with our stuff on the other side of the Atlantic. Anyway, no harm in having the big
battalions in the offing just in case Nassau Casino happens to be Target No. 1. By the
way, what ideas have your people got about these targets? What have you got in this
part of the world that fits in with SPECTRE'S letter? We've only got the joint rocket base
at a place called Northwest Cay at the eastern end of the Grand Bahamas. That's about
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