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Seascape with Figures

IT WAS one of those Septembers when it seemed that the summer would never end

The five-mile promenade of Royale-les-Eaux, backed by trim lawns emblazoned at intervals with tricolour beds of salvia, alyssuest beach in the north of France, the gy bathing tents stillbattalions Music, one of those lilting accordion waltzes, blared from the loudspeakers around the Oly above the music, a man's voice announced over the public address syste for hisfor her friends below the dock at the entrance, or that a Madame Dufours was demanded on the telephone Frohbourhood of the three playground enclosures -'Joie de Vivre', 'Helio' and 'Azur' - came a twitter of children's cries that waxed and waned with the thrill of their games and, farther out, on the firm sand left by the now distant sea, the shrill whistle of the physical-fitness instructor h the last course of the day

It was one of those beautiful, naive seaside panoramas for which the Brittany and Picardy beaches have provided the setting - and inspired their recorders, Boudin, Tissot, Monet - ever since the birth of plages and bains dein one of the concrete shelters with his face to the setting sun, there was sonant, ephemeral about it all It reminded him almost too vividly of childhood - of the velvet feel of the hot powder sand, and the painful grit of wet sand between young toes when the time came for him to put his shoes and socks on, of the precious little pile of sea-shells and interesting wrack on the sill of his bedroo It'll dirty up your trunk!'), of the s beneath the seaweed in the rock-pools, of the swi waves - always in those days, it see, inevitable 'time to come out' It was all there, his own childhood, spread out before hio they were, those spade-and-bucket days! How far he had come since the freckles and the Cadbury milk-chocolate Flakes and the fizzy learette, pulled his shoulders out of their slouch and sla-closed file Today he was a grown-up, a erousin this concrete hideout to sentimentalizeabout a pack of scrubby, smelly children on a beach scattered with bottle-tops and lolly-sticks and fringed by a sea thick with sun-oil and putrid with the main drains of Royale He was here, he had chosen to be here, to spy To spy on a wo lower Already one could smell the September chill that all day had lain hidden beneath the heat The cohorts of bathers were in quick retreat, striking their little ca up the steps and across the prooing up in the cafes The announcer at the swi-pool harried his customers: 'Allo! Allo! Fermeture en dix minutes! A dix-huit heures, fer sun, the two Bo a blue cross on a yellow background were speeding northwards for their distant shelter up-river in the Vieux Port The last of the gay, giraffe-like sand-yachts fled down the distant water-line towards its corral ae of the car-parks pedalled away through theranks of cars towards the police station in the centre of the town In a matter of , was already a ulls that would soon be flocking in their hordes to forage for the scraps of food left by the picnickers Then the orange ball of the sun would hiss down into the sea and the beach would, for a while, be entirely deserted, until, under cover of darkness, the prowling lovers would corittily in the dark corners between the bathing-huts and the sea-wall

On the beaten stretch of sand belohere Ja bikinis packed up the ga, and raced each other up the steps towards Bond's shelter They flaunted their bodies at him, paused and chattered to see if he would respond, and, when he didn't, linked ar why it was that French girls had eons sought to add, even in this irl babies?

And now, up and down the beach, the lifeguards gave a final blast on their horns to announce that they were going off duty, the reat expanse of sand was suddenly deserted

But not quite! A hundred yards out, lying face doards on a black and white striped bathing-wrap, on the private patch of firirl was still there, led in direct line between Ja the left-behind pools and shallow rivulets into blood-red,scrawls across theher - now, in the silence and e for her to do so, he didn't knohat, to happen It would beover her He had an instinct that she was in soer Or was it just that there was the ser in the air? He didn't know He only knew that he mustn't leave her alone, particularly now that everyone else had gone

Jaone Behind hie on the other side of the promenade, two men in raincoats and dark caps sat at a secluded table bordering the sidewalk They had half-empty cups of coffee in front of them and they didn't talk They sat and watched the blur on the frosted-glass partition of the shelter that was James Bond's head and shoulders They also watched, but less intently, the distant white blur on the sand that was the girl Their stillness, and their unseasonable clothes, would have ht have been watching them But there was no such person, except their waiter who had siory of 'bad news' and hoped they would soon be on their way

When the lower rinal had sounded for the girl She slowly got to her feet, ran both hands backwards through her hair and began to walk evenly, purposefully towards the sun and the far-away froth of the water-line over a mile away It would be violet dusk by the tiuessed that this was probably the last day of her holiday, her last bathe

Jaht otherwise He left his shelter, ran down the steps to the sand and began walking out after her at a fast pace Behind him, across the promenade, the two men in raincoats also seemed to think otherwise One of theot up and, walking strictly in step, crossed the proent military precision, marched rapidly side by side in Bond's tracks

Now the strange pattern of figures on the vast expanse of empty, blood-streaked sand was eerily conspicuous Yet it was surely not one to be interfered with! The pattern had a nasty, a secret sof a kind of deadly Grandmother's Steps about it In the cafe, the waiter collected the coins and looked after the distant figures, still outlined by the last quarter of the orange sun It s He would keep it to hiet his na up with the girl Now he knew that he would get to her just as she reached the water-line He began to wonder what he would say to her, hoould put it He couldn't say, 'I had a hunch you were going to co for a walk on the beach and I thought I recognized you Will you have a drink after your swim?' would be childish He finally decided to say, 'Oh, Tracy!' and then, when she turned round, 'I orried about you' Which would at least be inoffensive and, for the unmetal below a pri the hot land-air out to sea, had risen and was piling up wavelets that scrolled in whitely as far as the eye could see Flocks of herring gulls lazily rose and settled again at the girl's approach, and the air was full of theirand of the endless lap-lap of the so dusk added a touch of melancholy to the empty solitude of sand and sea, now so far away frohts and holiday bustle of 'La Reine de la Côte Opale', as Royale-les-Eaux had splendidly christened herself Bond looked forward to getting the girl back to those bright lights He watched the lithe golden figure in the white one-piece bathing-suit and wondered how soon she would be able to hear his voice above the noise of the gulls and the sea Her pace had slowed a fraction as she approached the water-line and her head, with its bell of heavy fair hair to the shoulders, was slightly bowed, in thought perhaps, or tiredness

Bond quickened his step until he was only ten paces behind her 'Hey! Tracy!'

The girl didn't start or turn quickly round Her steps faltered and stopped, and then, as a small wave creamed in and died at her feet, she turned slowly and stood squarely facing him Her eyes, puffed and ith tears, looked past him Then they met his She said dully, 'What is it? What do you want?'

'I orried about you What are you doing out here? What's the ht hand went up to herBond couldn't understand, from behind it Then a voice from very close behind Bond, said softly, silkily, 'Don't et it back of the knee'

Bond swirled round into a crouch, his gun hand inside his coat The steady silver eyes of the two autohtened himself He dropped his hand to his side and the held breath came out between his teeth in a quiet hiss The two dead-pan, professional faces told hiuns They held no tension, no excitement The thin half-smiles were relaxed, contented The eyes were not even wary They were almost bored Bond had looked into such faces many times before This was routine These men were killers - pro-killers

Bond had no idea who these men were, who they worked for, what this was all about On the theory that worry is a dividend paid to disaster before it is due, he consciously relaxed his muscles and emptied his mind of questions He stood and waited

'Position your hands behind your neck' The silky, patient voice was from the south, froh-skinned, widely pored, yellon Marseillais perhaps, or Italian The Mafia? The faces belonged to good secret police or tough crooks Bond'scards like an IBM ht it be Blofeld? Had the hare turned upon the hound?