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"And my what shall I say my dogsbody. What you might call my ADC, Willy
Krebs." There was the touch of a slightly damp hand. "Ferry pleased to meet
you," said an ingratiating voice and Bond looked into a pale round unhealthy
face now split in a stage smile which died almost as Bond noticed it. Bond
looked into his eyes. They were like two restless black buttons and they
twisted away from Bond's gaze.
Both men wore spotless white overalls with plastic zip fasteners at the
sleeves and ankles and down the back. Their hair was close-cropped so that the
skin shone through and they would have looked like people from another planet
but for the untidy black moustache and imperial of Dr Walter and the pale
wispy moustache of Krebs. They were both caricatures a mad scientist and a
youthful version of Peter Lorre.
The colourful ogreish figure of Drax was a pleasant contrast in this chilly
company and Bond was grateful to him for the cheerful roughness of his welcome
and for his apparent wish to bury the hatchet and make the best of his new
security officer.
Drax was very much the host. He rubbed his hands together. "Now, Willy," he
said, "how about making one of your excellent dry Martinis for us? Except, of
course, for the Doctor. Doesn't drink or smoke," he explained to Bond,
returning to his place by the mantelpiece. "Hardly breathes." He barked out a
short laugh. "Thinks of nothing but the rocket. Do you, my friend?"
The Doctor looked stonily in front of him. "You are pleased to joke," he said.
"Now, now," said Drax, as if to a child. "We will go back to those leading
edges later. Everybody's quite happy about them except you." He turned to
Bond. "The good Doctor is always frightening us," he explained indulgently.
"He's always having nightmares about something. Now it's the leading edges of
the fins. They're already as sharp as razor blades hardly any wind resistance
at all. And he suddenly gets it into his head that they're going to melt.
Friction of the air. Of course everything's possible, but they've been tested
at over 3000 degrees and, as I tell him, if they're going to melt then the
whole rocket will melt.
And that's just not going to happen," he added with a grim smile.
Krebs came up with a silver tray with four full glasses and a frosted shaker.
The Martini was excellent and Bond said so.
"You are ferry kind," said Krebs with a smirk of satisfaction. "Sir Hugo is
ferry exacting."
"Fill up his glass," said Drax, "and then perhaps our friend would like to
wash. We dine at eight sharp."
As he spoke there came the muffled wail of a siren and almost immediately the
sound of a body of men running in strict unison across the concrete apron
outside.
"That's the first night shift," explained Drax. "Barracks are just behind the
house. Must be eight o'clock. We do everything at the double here," he added
with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "Precision. Lot of scientists about,
but we try to run the place like a military establishment. Willy, look after
the Commander. We'll go ahead. Gome along, my dear."
Page 44
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As Bond followed Krebs to the door through which he had entered, he saw the
other two with Drax in the lead make for the double doors at the end of the
room which had opened as Drax finished speaking. The manservant in the white
coat stood in the entrance. As Bond went out into the hall it crossed his mind
that Drax would certainly go into the dining-room ahead of
Miss Brand. Forceful personality. Treated his staff like children. Obviously a
born leader. Where had he got it from? The
Army? Or did it grow on one with millions of money? Bond followed the
slug-like neck of Krebs and wondered.
The dinner was excellent. Drax was a genial host and at his own table his
manners were faultless. Most of his conversation consisted in drawing out Dr
Walter for the benefit of Bond, and it covered a wide range of technical
matters which Drax took pains to explain briefly after each topic had been
exhausted. Bond was impressed by the confidence with which Drax handled each
abstruse problem as it was raised, and by his immense grasp of detail. A
genuine admiration for the man gradually developed in him and overshadowed
much of his previous dislike. He felt more than ever inclined to forget the
Blades affair now that he was faced with the other Drax, the creator and
inspired leader of a remarkable enterprise.
Bond sat between his host and Miss Brand. He made several attempts to engage
her in conversation. He failed completely.
27
She answered with polite monosyllables and would hardly meet his eye. Bond
became mildly irritated. He found her physically very attractive and it
annoyed him to be unable to extract the smallest response. He felt that her
frigid indifference was overacted and that security would have been far better
met with an easy, friendly approach instead of this exaggerated reticence. He
felt a strong urge to give her a sharp kick on the ankle. The idea entertained
him and he found himself observing her with a fresh eye as a girl and not as
an official colleague. As a start, and under cover of a long argument between
Drax and Walter, in which she was required to join, about the collation of
weather reports from the Air Ministry and from Europe, he began to add up his
impressions of her.
She was far more attractive than her photograph had suggested and it was
difficult to see traces of the severe competence of a policewoman in the
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