Free James Bond and Moonraker by Christopher Wood

Madison Avenue and the Adirondacks, came almost as a relief.
    Trudi studied her even, white nails and reached idly for an emery board. Somewhere in the distance came the-mournful cry of a coyote. A warm desert wind stirred the curtains. Outside, the night was clear, and needle-points of stars shone with uneven degrees of brightness. Trudi put down the emery board unused and stretched out a hand for the bedside lamp.
    There was a light tap on the door.
    Trudi withdrew her hand and sat up. The door opened and James Bond came in. He closed the door behind him and leant against it, surveying her. He wore a navy blue polo-neck pullover and a pair of similarly coloured tropical worsted trousers. Trudi wondered where he had been and, with more immediate interest, where he was going. She pulled a sheet up before her demurely.
    ‘Mother gave me a comprehensive list of things not to do on a first date.’
    Bond smiled his thin, hard smile and crossed to the bed. ‘Maybe you won’t need it. That’s not what I came here for.’
    Trudi conquered her disappointment and hoped that no trace of it showed in her voice. ‘What do you want then?’
    Bond sat on the bed and looked at her levelly. This time there was more warmth in his smile. ‘Would your feelings be shattered if I said information?’
    Trudi forgot about the sheet that slipped down about her waist. ‘Why should I tell you anything?’
    Bond leant forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘Because you like me.’
    Trudi shook her head in amazement. ‘Who are you?’ She suddenly remembered how good his mouth had tasted. ‘Do that again.’ She leant forward and Bond’s head tilted obligingly. This time the kiss was long and deep. Delicious premonitions of pleasure stirred through her with the touch of warm fingertips. ‘What do you want to know? Is it to do with what happened this afternoon?’ News of the accident on the centrifuge trainer had quickly spread through the installation. Apparently, by some million-toone chance, two circuit break-offs had been transposed when a simple electrical fault was being repaired.
    The corner of Bond’s mouth twisted down ruefully. ‘No. Mr Drax has been very generous with his explanations and apologies. It’s what he hasn’t told me that I’m most interested in.’
    Trudi was puzzled. ‘What do you want to know?’
    ‘What goes on here besides the manufacture of the Moonraker and the astronaut training programme?’
    ‘I still don’t know who you are.’
    Bond took a deep breath and decided to make the lie elaborate.
    ‘I work for the British Aircraft Corporation. Investigating air crashes is my speciality, I’m afraid. There are a few puzzling features about this one and we can’t rule out the possibility that sabotage was involved. It’s mere supposition at the moment and I don’t want to make Mr Drax alarmed.’
    Trudi put her hand on Bond’s arm. ‘You mean, what happened to you this afternoon might not have been an accident?’
    Bond tried to look grave. ‘That’s a possibility too. It would help me to get an idea of why someone should want to strike at the Drax Corporation if I knew exactly what they’re developing here. I think Mr Drax might misconstrue my interest and, at the moment, I have no definite evidence to put before him. I’m still waiting on our own lab reports of the Alaska wreckage.’
    Bond was glad to see Trudi nodding sympathetically. She would clearly like to help. ‘It’s pretty difficult for me to tell you anything,’ she said. ‘Like I said, I’m just Mr Drax’s personal pilot. I know there was a very "top secret" project in one of the laboratories, but everything has been moved now.’
    Bond’s pulse quickened. ‘Where to?’
    Trudi shook her head. ‘I don’t know. One morning it had gone. All the technicians too. I was surprised nobody told me about it. I’m normally involved with all the flights that come in and out of here. They must have left from the