Silver Fin Page 22

  Randolph fetched a small net and dipped it into a tank. After a few moments he fished out an eel and brought it to James. Then he grabbed it by the neck, removed it from the net and pinned it down on the table top, where it thrashed about, scattering food with its tail.

  ‘Look at him. One taste of blood and he’d be on you like a tiger. That loch is teeming with his brothers and sisters. I even erected a complicated system of nets and barriers so that eels can get in happily enough, but they can’t get out again. Oh, of course the odd few escape, they’re tenacious beasts; but on the whole the population here is growing and growing, a population of bloodthirsty, powerful killers.’

  ‘But the trout, the local salmon…?’ said James, appalled at this tampering with nature. ‘They’ll be wiped out.’

  ‘Who cares about a few fish, Bond? They are long gone, and that lake is a vast aquarium now, my own laboratory.’

  ‘It’s cheating,’ said James.

  ‘Cheating? You are full of such quaint notions,’ said Hellebore.

  ‘Yes,’ said James angrily, ‘cheating. To think that a man could simply take a pill and he would be stronger and faster than another man. It’s not right.’

  ‘We are living in a new age, Bond, forged in the horrors of war, and your ideas about right and wrong, good and bad, no longer have any value. Now there are only weak and strong, quick and slow, the living and the dead, the rich and the poor. And, given the choice, which would you rather be? Strong, quick, rich and alive, or weak, slow, poor and dead?’

  ‘I would rather be anything than a stinking cheat!’ shouted James. ‘I don’t want to live my life among bullies and freaks.’

  ‘Well, hats off to you, Mister Bond, but don’t blame me if your life is miserable and short.’

  So saying, Randolph picked up a spike, and with one swift movement he stuck it through the eel’s head, securing it to a wooden dissecting board on the table top.

  22

  The Gadarene Swine

  ‘Look at him go,’ said Randolph, marvelling at the eel, which was twisting on its spike, smearing the table with thick slime and blood. ‘Imagine, if you could combine the characteristics of an eel with those of a human! We could make a fighting man who was not only bigger and stronger, with a hide like steel, but also simpler, more obedient, unquestioning and unstoppable. He would be magnificent, wouldn’t he? Utterly ferocious and terrifying! Soon, James Bond, soon I will have perfected my serum. I will have the correct balance of growth hormones, adrenalin, testosterone and all the countless other chemicals that I have extracted from my eels. Soon I will be able to create an unkillable soldier.’

  Hellebore dragged James up out of his seat.

  ‘Let me show you something,’ he said, and he led James across the laboratory, threading their way between the workbenches on which half-finished experiments were set out: dead pigs, dissected eels, unnameable body parts, grey bits of flesh in jars, microscopes and paperwork scrawled with numbers and symbols.

  They arrived at what looked like a row of low animal pens, built right up against the wall. The heavy steel-framed doors were all padlocked shut.

  As they got nearer, the grunting noise that James had been trying to identify since he had woken up grew stronger, as did an animal stench. Then, as he peered through the mesh in one of the doors, he finally realised what the source of it all was.

  Staring miserably back at him was a live pig.

  This was no ordinary pig, however. For a start it was a giant, maybe twice the size of a normal pig, but all out of proportion. Its head looked tiny, with a bony growth on the forehead like a short horn. It could hardly support itself on its stumpy, twisted legs and it was shivering horribly.

  James quickly glanced into the next cage and saw a similar deformed creature, this time with jutting, dinosaur teeth in a grotesquely swollen lower jaw, and a head far too large for its malformed and elongated body. The rest of the pigs were no better. Some had shrivelled bodies, some were missing eyes, some had bulbous, puffy trotters, some were drooling, some chewing at their cages, and in all of their faces was madness and pain.

  MacSawney came over to join them and James noticed that, as he drew near, the beasts became agitated and some shrank back in fear. One or two threw themselves at their cages as if trying to smash their way out.

  Hellebore laughed. ‘They can smell you, Cleek,’ he said.

  The wizened goblin gillie kicked at a cage. ‘Quiet down, you ugly brutes,’ he spat.

  ‘With no people to test our work on,’ said Hellebore, raising his voice to be heard over the agitated squealing and grunting from the pens, ‘we have been forced to use pigs.’

  Dr Friend now joined them. ‘I have injected all of them with different versions of the SilverFin serum,’ he said, ‘with varying effect, as you can see. But if you look along the line from left to right, you can compare the earliest results with the latest. The animal in pen number one dates from January, and the chap here –’ He pointed to where a pig lay on the concrete floor in the half-darkness of his filthy cage – ‘he started his course of injections earlier this evening at seven thirty-six. He’s subdued at the moment and you will not notice any visible changes for a few more days, but as he grows we can increase the daily injections. We are still a little way from total success and can have no exact idea what the effects would be on an actual human being, but we are confident that within a short time we will have perfected the serum so that we will be able to take an ordinary soldier and turn him into an unstoppable fighting machine within a few weeks. This fellow next to him is our most successful experiment to date.’

  James looked into the next cage and saw a pig that, at first glance, appeared to be a magnificent animal. It had a massive, well-proportioned head on strong shoulders and sturdy, muscular front legs. It might have been an ordinary pig – albeit a massive and incredibly strong one – except for its skin, which resembled the thick, rough skin of a rhinoceros, and its expression of pure murder. James had never seen such a human-looking and hateful expression on an animal, and, as the pig shifted its gaze on to him, he jumped back, expecting the beast to burst out of its cage and sink its yellow teeth into him. But then the pig turned round, and James saw that its back legs were stunted and next to useless. They dragged along the floor behind it, spreading faeces and uneaten food across the concrete.

  James couldn’t look any more. He turned away from the cage and pressed his hands to his aching forehead, but then he heard a familiar wheezing hiss and turned back.

  Sitting in the next cage along was Algar, hunched over, the back of his head scraping the ceiling. He had a pitiful, defeated expression on his face, and James saw that he was cradling something. He looked closer and realised that it was the piglet that MacSawney had removed from the pig pen outside. Algar was cuddling it like a doll.

  ‘Are you familiar with the biblical story of the Gadarene swine?’ said Randolph.

  James said nothing.

  ‘You may recall how demons had possessed this old guy and sent him crazy, ranting and raving and smashing the place up, like my brother in his prime. And then here comes Jesus Christ to the rescue, and he chases those demons out of the old guy and straight into a nearby herd of pigs, who become crazed and throw themselves into the sea. Well, my pigs are possessed by demons all right, and our job is to trap those demons and breed them.’

  James felt sick. ‘What did you do to Alfie?’ he said.

  ‘He was a feeble specimen,’ Dr Friend said mildly.

  ‘What did you do to him?’

  ‘These godforsaken locals,’ snapped Hellebore, ‘they’re weak and undernourished. What did we do to him? I’ll tell you what we did to him. We fed him and watered him. We put some meat on his bones.’

  ‘But he was still too weak for the serum,’ said Dr Friend. ‘The first injection was too much for him. His heart gave out.’

  ‘Or maybe,’ said Hellebore, ‘maybe he died of fright.’

  ‘This was a terrib
le tragedy.’ Dr Friend paused for a moment and shook his head sadly. ‘Because we hadn’t had time to test the SilverFin properly. But afterwards he was still able to help us, we cut him open and –’

  ‘Stop it!’ yelled James. ‘Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more. Stop it!’

  ‘I only want you to understand,’ said Lord Hellebore. ‘We didn’t tell the Kelly boy what we were doing. We simply convinced him that he was ill and needed our help. But in retrospect we think that it would have been better if he’d known what was really going on. You are older than him, and stronger, and our experiments have leapt forward since he came to us. I have no doubt that you will live a lot longer.’

  James stared in horror at Algar and the other freaks in the cages, then a red mist of anger descended on him and he lashed out, kicking Hellebore in the knee. Hellebore yelped and clutched his leg and, while he was distracted, James broke away and sprinted across the laboratory floor.

  He made it to the metal stairway and leapt up the steps four at a time, but when he reached the metal door at the top he found that there was no handle, no possible way of opening it without a key.

  He swore and looked around for some sort of weapon. If they were going to take him, he would hurt as many of them as he could before they succeeded. He would make them pay. But there was nothing up here. He wished he’d grabbed something from the laboratory: a scalpel, or a jar of acid, anything. He ran back. Halfway down the stairs was a door to one side with the warning: ‘DANGER! HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE’. He smiled. There might be something in here he could use. But then the smile died on his lips. This door was locked as well.

  ‘They’re all locked,’ shouted Lord Hellebore from below, ‘and made of reinforced steel. There are no windows, and you have no friends here. There is no possible escape from this room. And please don’t make it difficult for yourself, because we don’t want you to be harmed in any way. We need a perfect physical specimen.’

  MacSawney was coming slowly up the stairs in a crouch, chuckling, his long, ape arms outspread.

  ‘Come on, laddie,’ he said. ‘I’m ready for a fight.’

  James retreated up to the platform. For a brief moment he thought of cheating them, of hurling himself off the balcony and killing himself, but in the back of his mind was a spark. It may only have been tiny, but it burnt fiercely and told him not to give up, to keep fighting; it told him that somehow he would find a way.

  ‘What do you think you are going to do, Bond?’ yelled Randolph, putting as much amusement into his voice as he could. ‘Really? I mean, come on, you’re just a boy. A little boy. Please don’t imagine that you could ever succeed in doing anything to harm me or my work in any way. And please don’t imagine that you are ever going to leave this castle!’

  MacSawney was at the top of the steps now and was creeping towards him along the platform, his pink eyes glinting, his tongue exploring his lips and teeth like a parasitic animal. James waited until he was nearly on him, then charged, butting him in the stomach with his head. The air was forced out of MacSawney’s lungs with a hiss and he collapsed on to the floor.

  James scrabbled past him and down the steps, towards Dr Friend and Hellebore, not sure what he was going to do except hurt them as badly as he could.

  And then he saw it. Hanging on the wall. A safety axe, next to a small sign that read ‘IN CASE OF FIRE’. He switched direction and raced towards it, but he hadn’t noticed two more of Hellebore’s men, who had hidden themselves beneath the steps. Before he could reach the axe, they jumped out and grabbed him from behind, holding him fast.

  ‘Good work,’ said Hellebore. ‘Now, that’s enough fun and games for one night. Secure him to the bench, if you would, please. And, Perseus, fetch the SilverFin.’

  James kicked and struggled with all his strength, but it was no good, the men were too strong for him. It still took them several minutes to get him strapped down, however, and then he was unable to move on the cold steel table.

  ‘You are lucky that I don’t want you damaged in any way, Bond,’ said Hellebore, leaning over and breathing on him with his rank breath, ‘or I would hurt you now. Hurt you a great deal.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Lord Hellebore,’ said Dr Friend. ‘The injection will hurt him well enough. I would advise you, boy, not to struggle or tense your muscles too much, or the needle will have trouble getting in and it could be very, very painful indeed. Also, if it were to snap off…’

  James closed his eyes and tried not to think about what was happening to him – what was going to happen. But all he could see in his mind’s eye were the hideous pigs. Then he felt a rubbing and a cool wetness on his arm where Dr Friend was cleaning it. After that there came the sound of a rubber stopper being removed from a glass bottle.

  James clenched his teeth and tried to relax his arm.

  Perseus and Hellebore talked in quiet voices.

  ‘One hundred and seventy-five milligrams should be sufficient for a primary dose…’

  ‘… we will increase the doses by ten-milligram increments every twelve hours…’

  ‘… we must prepare a strict and regular diet…’

  ‘… here…’

  Suddenly James felt a sharp sting and a cold, numbing pain in his arm, as if someone had punched him. He cried out, picturing the spike being driven into the eel’s brain. He shook his head and waited for the agonising ache to go away, which it slowly did, only to be replaced by a terrible feeling of heat and pressure within him. It pressed on the back of his eyes, forcing them out of his skull. It pressed on his teeth, which seemed to rattle loose. It crushed his heart against his ribs and squeezed his lungs. It was as if someone were filling up his body with air from a bicycle pump. He could feel his fingers swelling like sausages, his stomach bursting, the blood thumping in his head and ringing in his ears. He strained against the straps and opened his eyes, to find the whole room spinning. He was overcome with dizziness and felt horribly nauseous. He retched and tasted blood in his mouth. Pressing the side of his face against the slab to try and cool it, he saw Dr Friend calmly making notes in his book.

  James closed his eyes again.

  As the long minutes ticked away, the pressure eased slightly. His breathing slowed and a feeling of drowsiness crept over him.

  At last Hellebore reckoned he was strong enough to be moved. The two men came over and gently released the straps.

  This time James didn’t resist in any way but, as they got him to his feet, he vomited on to the floor and saw with satisfaction that some of the mess had splashed on to Hellebore’s smart shoes.

  To the sound of Hellebore cursing, James went meekly with the men up the stairs, too sick and weak to try anything. Then the door was unlocked and he was dragged through the winding corridors of the castle. They eventually arrived in the hallway, where they took a narrow side passage and, after several sharp turns and a clumsy descent down a dark, damp spiral staircase, they came to a massive door. MacSawney took a rusting key that must have been at least a foot long and fitted it into the lock, which clunked open.

  The door swung back and James was pushed in.

  ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me,’ said MacSawney, rubbing his belly, his voice slurred. ‘There’s plenty of time to get my own back on you… plenty of time. Now goodnight, and sweet dreams.’

  He laughed and closed the door.

  James stood there and stared with little emotion as the key turned in the lock.

  He didn’t care any more.

  He didn’t care about anything.

  23

  Into The Dark

  James sat and stared at the ancient, grey, granite walls, slick with damp and stained with blotches of green and yellow fungus. Miserably he clutched his knees to his chest and felt the cold stone floor beneath him, chilling his bones.

  So that was it, then. It was all over.

  He was deathly tired. He wanted to curl up in the corner of the room and go to sleep forever, to become as cold an
d still as the stones…

  No.

  He shook himself and stood up. He mustn’t give in, because then Hellebore would have won. He thought of all he’d been through to get this far: the trek up to the castle with Kelly, crawling along the ditch, hiding in the back of the lorry, crossing the pig pens, climbing the great pine tree, and the mad scramble up the wall… Then being chased through the dark passageways by Algar… How long ago was all that? Was it really just last night? Another wave of tiredness washed over him, and for a moment he wanted with all his heart to sit back down and rest.

  No.

  He started to pace the room, back and forth. He had to think. He had to make a plan. He had to do something, to keep active. Above all, he mustn’t despair. He thought of Uncle Max and all he had had to put up with during the war.

  He didn’t want to let Max down.

  And Kelly.

  Kelly was relying on him, waiting outside in the abandoned building for him to return. He couldn’t let Kelly down. People had had to deal with worse situations than this. Max had had to escape from a German fortress in the war; even tortured and beaten, he had found a way out.

  Yes.

  Nobody can hold a Bond forever.

  There was always a way out of any situation, no matter how bleak it seemed. You just had to find it.

  The first thing to do was examine his surroundings. He hadn’t looked around properly since he’d been shut in here. That was careless.