Chapter 9. An Ear for Music

The night was black. The gondola could only be seen when light from a passing motorboat

splashed into the inlet. It glided to the heavy wrought iron gate and stopped. High above where a

narrow strip of sky showed between the tall buildings, the clocks of Venice began to strike

10. A pencil-thin column of light shone on the wrought iron

and there was a clink of metal. Seconds passed and with a click, the gate swung ajar.

James Bond listened attentively and then slipped through the gate and quickly crossed the

courtyard he had scouted in the morning. He came to the flight of steps and bounded up them

silently on his rubber-soled shoes.

In the distance, two cats started a brief skirmish.

At the top of the steps was an archway and beyond it a dimly lit corridor.

Bond paused until the only sound he could hear was his breathing and entered the corridor.

It was damp and cold and bisected at a distance of about 40 feet by another corridor running at right angles.

Bond advanced coming to two heavy iron doors.

Set into the wall beside them was a plaque like the surface of a pocket computer.

The numerals glowed red in the semi-darkness.

The bricks of the corridor were old, but the doors were new.

There was no handle, no lock.

Bond was studying the smooth, inscrutable face of the doors when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Another door behind him offered sanctuary. He lifted the latch and pressed. The heavy oak door swung back and he stepped into darkness.

The smell that assaulted his nostrils was more offensive than anything that damp or decay could muster. It was accompanied by a rustling sound

that seemed to come from all around him. Bond had the impression of many shapes moving and of shelves

...