Bond Movies 03 - Licence to Kill Read Free

by the blood-curdling shrieks of Alvarez in the hallway.
    A few seconds later, the screaming stopped and the unmistakable sound of a helicopter’s engine, growing louder, rumbled and clattered from the sky.
    Sanchez flung the girl away from him across the bed. ‘Get some clothes on. Quick. We must move.’
    The coastguard chopper came in low over the beaches, then crossed the airstrip, the pilot juggling with the cyclic and collective controls, his feet moving on the rudder bars like a dancer so that the large machine seemed to stand on its aft rotor, then turned to sweep back across the area.
    ‘There,’ yelled Hawkins above the chattering din of the rotors, his hand outstretched. They could all see the jeep in front of the low house and, as they passed, something was thrown from one of the far windows.
    ‘Jesus,’ Leiter swallowed hard. ‘That looked like a mutilated body. Head for the Learjet.’
    Hawkins made signals to the pilot who turned again and brought his machine hovering in to block any attempted take-off by the jet.
    As they reached the ground, Leiter, Hawkins and the agent called Mullins, who had done nothing but smile amiably since the take-off from Seven Mile Bridge, grabbed at the rack of weapons fitted to the starboard side of the cabin, each selecting an M16 carbine. Leiter saw the look in Bond’s eyes and, smiling, passed him an automatic pistol. ‘Only if absolutely necessary,’ he cautioned.
    Bond shrugged and checked the magazine and action of the Browning 9mm.
    Mullins was first out of the door, followed by Leiter who shouted that he wanted Sanchez alive. ‘I have to take him back breathing,’ he called after Mullins whose bulk was already in the doorway of the jet. Hawkins covered the two pilots who quietly raised their hands, showing they were neither armed nor looking for trouble.
    ‘Nobody in the airplane.’ Mullins returned, and in the breath of silence that followed, they all heard the noise of the jeep, audible above the slowly-turning rotors.
    ‘That’ll be them!’ Bond pointed to a dust cloud moving fast from the direction of the house.
    ‘Upstairs!’ Leiter was already scrabbling back into the chopper which was hovering as Bond, bringing up the rear, eased himself to the door.
    The jeep was a couple of hundred yards away, weaving through the dusty ground between patches of dark-green undergrowth. The vehicle swung, skidding dangerously from side to side as the chopper, nose down, approached low, trying to block its escape.
    They could see several men aboard, and Felix put a few rounds from his M16 in front of the vehicle. Instead of stopping the jeep, the shots brought a hail of fire from its occupants. Inside the helicopter the agents flinched as the thuds and metallic whines battered at the fuselage. The pilot spun the machine on its axis and began to hover, descending in front of the jeep. At the height of the firefight, nobody saw Sanchez roll free of the jeep into the scrub, turning, crouching and running, bent close to the ground, back towards the house.
    As the chopper came to about ten feet from the ground, Bond, who had been standing in the doorway, leapt out, rolled and brought the pistol up in a one-handed grip, loosing off three sets of double shots, aimed at the wheels.
    Two of the tyres exploded and the jeep went into a long uncontrolled skid, slamming sideways, starting to roll, then ending up on its side.
    As the jeep came to a standstill with a grinding crunch, so Bond moved forward, both arms outstretched and the pistol a simple extension of his hands. He fired another couple of shots as he glimpsed figures flitting into the undergrowth, shouting a ‘Come on? This way!’ to the others.
    There was a girl in the jeep. Alive, conscious but looking shocked and with tear stains damp on her cheeks. Bond rested his hands on her shoulders, asking if she needed help. But the girl simply glanced towards the undergrowth into which the men had disappeared and shook