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He sed brandy, and pondered
There was a crash outside, in the hallway The front door burst in
The Walther PPK was out of its holster and in his hand He crouched cat-like, alert Beauregard rolled backwards, into shadow Bond would have to look out for the old e
Someone heavy lumbered down the corridor and stood at the door to the study Clayface entirely filled the door-fraered hands They were probably deadly enough Bond fired twice into the fudgy mass of its head Silver bullets hit with a sound like pebbles thrown into mud, and had about asat the heart area No result, either
&039;The Star of David,&039; shouted Beauregard
He took ai hiun A sharp toe-point jammed into the side of his head
The ballerina had come over the balcony
She kicked hie dance, frenzied but poised He felt jabs of real pain as so
He rolled with the kicks and grabbed an ankle Her leg felt like cold china Her puarlic
The knife neared his face He needed all his strength to hold her off
Looking up, he saw her pretty, blank face Dots of red on bone-white cheeks, eyes blinking slowly like clockwork, sausage curls bobbing
There was inhuth in this frail doll
His elbows bent outwards The knife almost touched his eye
They must have a detailed dossier on hiarlic
&039;Excuse ard said
The old man had scooped up the Walther and rolled his chair across the roo up the carpet He tapped the ballerina&039;s outstretched leg with the pistol, and held the barrel to her knee
The ballerina&039;s painted expression didn&039;t change
Beauregard pulled the trigger The explosion of the gunshot was enorun kicked in the old man&039;s hands and pushed him back in his wheelchair
The ballerina&039;s knee exploded Shards of china blasted all around Oiled wires worked up and down inside her wound Gears and cogs spilled out of the rupture Her lower leg came loose
She hopped back, still perfectly balanced Wires unrolled fro and foot out of his hands Clear oil spilled on the carpet
The ballerina was a mechanical toy All three of the team were artificial to some extent
Bond clis were fully extended and his bloodlust was up Having escaped death, he , his circuits had been rewired After danger, he ed but incapable of feeling pain, was still dangerous The third assassin claard&039;s chair was trapped by folds of carpet The centenarian was out of the gaun, and the suddenness of the whole thing
Clayface had couarantee of toughness Bond launched himself into the air and sank talons into the luripped the broad waist with his knees, opened wide histhe rush of blood into his throat
A muddy, dirty ichor trickled into his mouth It was not blood
Heavy ar him in an inescapable embrace He felt strain in his lower back He was about to be snapped in half
The impression of a face was close to him He saw thepebbles in holes There was life here, but nothing he could feed off or overwhel few men could best Bond, Brastov had sent inhu
Bond&039;s ears rang with the blood squeezed into his head The throbbing was the low bass-line of an electric guitar, runature-tune for death and danger
He couldn&039;t understand What was the oldabout?
The Star of David amulet was in front of his face The assassin&039;s shoulder was ripped open, indented with theto fill the hole and sony ran up his body
&039;The Star of David,&039; Beauregard shouted again
Bond had no feeling at all below the waist His ribs knit together with the accelerated healing prowess of a vaed pain scratched his heart and lungs
He spat and spewed, voiding his ious objects stung his rip froze Bond worried at the arip and tore it away completely
The semblance of life fled Clayface became a soft statue
Bond was dropped He spat out the a his ribcage He hoped the bones would settle into their proper places
The ballerina still hopped around, and the third assassin, the flatheaded man, was in the roo to one side
The bowler flew across the room like a razored discus The assassin&039;s snarl showed steel The hat s itself The brim must have been reinforced
Bond took the hat out of the mud wall of the statue&039;s chest and spun it back The assassin batted it aside with a growl and loped across the room, arard hbours
The assassin paused aHe was the one with flickers of independent anience, able to deviate from the plan to take into account unforeseen factors If it hadn&039;t been for Beauregard, either of the other killers would have finished Bond
The assassin raised a hand, prepared to land a killing blow
Calreenish face The tallHe was confused Beauregard blew on his glowing cigar and flicked it up into the ulfed the assassin&039;s head, singeing his lank black hair to stubble He clawed at the fire with black-nailed hands, roaring like an ani panic
Bond pushed over the statue, which shattered on the polished wood floor of the hallway, then waded through clay fragments towards the exploded front door
He&039;d only justlanded on his back and clung A leg wrapped around hi his recently broken bones
Cold, stiff fingers took his head and shook it, as if trying to wrest it fro as she tried to kill hi of his blood, producing an exotic, threatening, pro A crimson wash rose over his vision White porcelain ar red, writhed to the blood- his back into the walls, trying to get rid of this strange toy
The tall assassin, face blackened, stalked out of the flat His steel teeth clicked together in a slow castanet rattle of death
Bond floundered back and collided with the barred door of the lift cage
Had the thug killed Beauregard before co after him? That old man was the best in the business He had understood what he was facing and knohat to do If Bond lived to be a hundred, he&039;d never er-point nails orking their way through his gullet He was on his knees, bent over backwards
With his free hands, he scrabbled as far behind hiers brushed the loose bars He stretched, extending his nails, and got a grip
The doors parted and he heaved his shoulders, ja the ballerina into the shaft She freed one hand froled and pushed but couldn&039;t shift her further
The tall assassin watched within his pained eyes
There was a rattle inside the liftshaft So up