Chapter 13. Orchidesee Negra. A fuzzy grey image before Bond's eyes deepened to black and then throbbed into a

non-committal brown. A face appeared, bobbing up and down with the motion of a vehicle moving over

rough ground, and Bond recognised the man dressed as a medical orderly who had struck him down on the

hillside.

Bond closed his eyes again and tried to move his hands. They were tied with cord and resting on his stomach. His legs seemed to be secured with a strap, something pressed down on his forearms.

He opened his eyes slightly and saw that a second strap around his chest was holding him down

on a stretcher.

He was in the back of an ambulance and beside him was Holly, similarly bound to another stretcher.

Between them with his back to the doors was seated the complacent bulk of their guard,

with eyes like bloodshot marbles. They bulged out of his face as if likely to slide down his cheeks with the next jolt of the ambulance.

A small, wet tongue washed the man's lips, and Bond realized that he was looking into the face of a psychopath.

He tried again to separate his hands, but without success.

Whoever had tied him up had been a professional.

As Bond watched, the guard ran his eyes over Holly from head to toe and rinsed his

lips again. Bond knew what he was thinking. He turned his head slightly and saw that Holly knew as well.

Her eyes were wide open with wary fear and she was concentrating on the man as if trying to hold him

at arm's length. Bond saw that there was no more point in feigning unconsciousness, so he opened

his eyes. The throbbing behind his left temple was like an ice-pick hitting at his brain. A wave of

pain like a meth-strinkers hangover swirled through his head. Like a child in a strange nursery,

the guard felt in one of the pockets alongside the bunks and withdrew a slim leather case.

He clicked it open and a glint of steel matched the crazed light that came into his eyes.

The bitten fingers delved into the case and emerged with a long-bladed scalpel.

...