Bond Movies 06 - The World Is Not Enough Read Free

window. He saw that the brunette was swinging on a wire that she must have previously attached to the balcony railing. She sailed smoothly over the side street to another building. She quickly disappeared into the shadows before Bond could fire a shot. Already there were sirens in the distance; the police had no doubt been alerted by the secretary outside the office. He had to move fast.
    Bond turned, only to find that the first thug had recovered and was blocking the way, gun in hand. He was about to squeeze the trigger when Bond saw a red dot appear on the man’s chest. Behind him, another window shattered as a bullet zinged through and pierced the henchman’s heart. Bond instinctively ducked behind the desk and peered outside in an attempt to find the source of the shot, but there were too many windows in the building across the street.
    He rolled over and up to run for the door, but he could hear voices and the sound of running feet in the hallway. Bond threw the bolt and quickly glanced at the windows again. Why wasn’t the sniper shooting? He looked around the room and noted that the second thug was beginning to stir.
    Bond realised that whoever had shot through the window had not been aiming at him. Perhaps the balcony was the safest escape route after all . . .
    A breeze blew, fluttering the curtains that had been pulled back and tied with a long piece of decorative rope. Thinking quickly, Bond grabbed the rope, yanked it down and threaded one end under a radiator pipe beneath the shattered window. He then moved to the prone body of the groggy henchman and tied the rope to his legs in a slip knot.
    Shouting in Spanish followed a ferocious hammering at the door. The police had arrived.
    Bond deftly picked up his Walther PPK and throwing knife and pocketed them, then clutched the handle on the case full of money. He then wrapped the other end of the rope around his arm and eyed the window, ready to make his move.
    He paused just long enough to take one of the Havanas from the box on the cart and slip it into his pocket.
    Bond ran through the open window and leaped. He held on tightly to the case with one hand and gripped the rope with the other. In the office, the groggy henchman came to his senses in time to see the rope tied to his ankles running out of the window. He clung to the leg of the desk and held on for dear life as the rope went taut.
    Bonds fall suddenly jerked to a stop.
    Then the leg of the desk broke off in the thug’s hand and Bond’s weight dragged him across the Oriental rugs toward the window. He crashed into the wall just as the police burst through the door with their guns drawn.
    Outside, Bond slowly descended to the street on the rope, unwrapped it and dropped the remaining ten feet to the pavement. He rounded the corner to blend in with the lunchtime business crowds - just another man with a case, in a suit and tie.
    As he walked, though, Bond glanced at the building where the cigar girl had fled. Why would someone up there want him to get out of that room alive?
    While pondering this strange turn of events, he decided that perhaps he should take in some contemporary art after all. As more police poured into the bank building, Bond slipped into the front of the Guggenheim museum and disappeared. He was back in London before midnight.
    Giulietta entered the huge, high-ceilinged room in the building across from the Swiss bank. She swallowed hard, for she was terribly afraid of the man who was standing on the balcony overlooking the city.
    He was not a large man. He was slight, thin and wiry, but there was no doubt that he could be quick on his feet. His cold eyes were as dark as anthracite. He might have been handsome at one time, but the raised, red scar on the right temple distorted the shape of his shiny, bald head. It was an ugly, slick wound that throbbed and shifted with the slightest facial expression, like an insect living just beneath the skin. His right eye drooped slightly,