Bond Movies 03 - Licence to Kill Read Free Page A

her head.
    ‘You need a doctor,’ he said, looking closer. There was something very wrong with this beautiful young woman.
    ‘Keep your hands off me. Get away. Get right away. Don’t you dare touch me!’ she spat at Bond, and at that moment Hawkins reached the jeep.
    ‘They’re in the bushes somewhere.’ Bond let go of the girl and took two steps towards the undergrowth.
    ‘Stop!’ The shout was from Leiter who was signalling the helicopter forward. ‘There! There!’ He pointed, and, for the first time they saw, and heard, the little Piper Cub which had been parked near the house. It was gathering speed and the pilot raised his hand in a salute.
    ‘Sanchez!’ Leiter was white with anger. ‘We’ve lost him. He can be in Cuban airspace in twenty minutes.’
    The helicopter reached them just as the Cub became airborne.
    ‘We can outrun him in this.’ Bond was already clambering back into the helicopter. To the pilot he shouted, ‘Can you keep up with that Piper?’
    The pilot nodded and the machine began to rise again.
    ‘You’re supposed to be an observer, James. What’re you trying to do, get yourself killed?’
    ‘If I don’t get you to the church within a reasonable margin of time, Della’s going to kill me anyway,’ he said with an almost studied nonchalance. ‘And in twenty minutes you’ll be right on time, only it’s going to take us at least an hour and a half, not counting stopping time to pick up Sanchez. Prepare for squalls, Felix.’
    Leiter’s brow creased as he saw Bond reach out for the winching gear, complete with hook and line.
    ‘What the hell’re you doing?’
    ‘Just what Sharky advised. I’m going fishing. Sanchez’s just below us now. I’m going to give you a wedding present. Operate the winch, Felix, and instruct the pilot.’ With a smile, Bond swung out on the line, wrapping it around his leg with a practised flick.
    The airflow caught his body and he swung backwards in a stomach-rolling twist. Glancing down, the world twirled, spinning, and Bond wondered what in heaven’s name he thought he was doing. This was not only damned uncomfortable, but also bloody dangerous. Some forty feet below him was the Cub’s red tail-fin, and he motioned to Felix who started to winch him down.
    Slowly the light aircraft grew larger and Bond began to be caught in both its slipstream and the downdraught of the rotors. Below the aircraft there was the best part of a thousand-foot drop into the sea. He felt his hair being blown around, and it was necessary to close his eyes because of the forces eddying about his face.
    Bond grabbed towards the airplane’s tail, missed, swung sideways, grabbed again and missed again.
    Behind him there was a flapping noise which distracted him until he realised it was simply the tails of his morning coat blowing and cracking in the wind. In spite of the fear that engulfed him, Bond began to laugh. He was thinking that he must look a ludicrous sight, like some movie stuntman doing a particularly daring act for the cameras.
    Suddenly the chopper seemed to put on speed and Bond threw his arms around the top of the tail-fin, his body crashing painfully into the rudder.
    In the cockpit, Sanchez felt the weight and fought the controls, deftly tinkering with the trim tabs to restore the airplane’s balance.
    But Bond had begun to inch himself down the rudder, making the plane yaw to and fro, his body swinging from side to side as Sanchez made sharp corrections. Bond traversed lower, feeling for the towing-ring set behind the tail wheel.
    His hands were sore, burning with pain, and he fought desperately to pull at the line which hung below his foot, trailing backwards in the wind with the hook jerking at the rope. It seemed to take hours, a few minutes in reality, to draw the line upwards and grasp the hook, one arm wrapped around the tail, the other hand on the hook, fighting the pressure until he had brought it up and around the Piper Cub’s tow-ring. But, at