'Double the stakes next Monday,' he said. He took out a pencil and scribbled an addition on the side of the target.' Twenty rounds and I make it you owe me seven-and-six, sir,' he said impassively.īond laughed. 'Through the left wall of the stomach and out at the back,' said the Instructor, with satisfaction. Just below and half an inch to the right was the rent made by Bond's bullet.

Its heart was a black bullseye, about three inches across. Without speaking, the Instructor laid the big white man-shaped target under the lamp. In the centre of his heart there was a tiny pinpoint of light. He focused the glass carefully on the left side of his dark jacket.

Around his right hand there was a blurred burst of white flame. He handed this to Bond and they turned to a table behind them on which there was a green-shaded desk-light and a large magnifying glass.īond picked up the glass and bent over the photograph. In the other a polaroid film, postcard size. In one hand he held the silhouette target of the upper body of a man. 'I'm in hospital, but you're dead, sir,' he said. He broke the chamber sideways out of the Colt Detective Special and waited, his gun pointing at the floor, while the Instructor walked the twenty yards towards him through the half-light of the gallery.īond saw that the Instructor was grinning. The memory in his right hand of how he had drawn and fired with one sweep from the left made him confident.

James Bond watched the smoke being sucked from each end of the room towards the central Ventaxia fan. The walls of the underground room took the crash of sound and batted it to and fro between them until there was silence. The two thirty-eights roared simultaneously.

Moonraker fleming