Chapter 10 The Quickness of the Hand

Holly Goodhead moved to the edge of her balcony and spread her arms wide.

Nosing against the wide lamplit key was a huddle of small steamsters and ferryboats.

A few seamen and tourists were hurrying home to their beds,

and directly below a waiter was folding

the royal blue sun umbrellas over the coffee tables. The cold winter sunshine had produced little

passing trade. Now the Canali de San Marco was a pinpoint blaze of lights, and in the distance

the Lido showed up against the night, like glistening beads of dew on a spider's web.

Holly drank in one of the most beautiful views in the world and turned to enter her suite.

Her dress had been well received, but a combination of tension, exhilaration, and relief made her welcome the thought of sleep. She was stretching

out a hand for a standard lamp when a second hand closed over hers. She pressed the switch and

the light clicked on to reveal Bond, staring down at her. His eyes hard, his mouth, a ruthless

slit. His hair was disheveled, and there were bruises on his

face that she would gladly have added to. What the hell are you doing here? Bonn's expression did not

relent. Convalescing, your friend Chang just tried to kill me. Holly flared her nostrils and

willed her heartbeat to return to normal.

And you think I had something to do with it? Bond released her hand contemptuously and moved around

the suite turning on more lights. The thought had flashed across my mind. He moved to a bureau and

picked up a slim gold retractable ballpoint pen.

What's Jack's up to in that laboratory? Why don't you ask him yourself? I intend to.

Bond started to doodle on a pad. Holly placed one hand on her hip and ran the other through her hair.

Are you leaving me your telephone number?

...