Felix leiter came into the white, antiseptic room and closed the door conspiratorially behind him. He came and stood beside the bed where Bond lay on the edge of drugged sleep. ‘How’s it going, feller?’
‘Not bad. Just doped.’
‘Doctor said I wasn’t to see you. But I thought you might care to hear the score. Okay?’
‘Sure.’ Bond struggled to concentrate. He didn’t really care. All he could think about was the girl.
‘Well, I’ll make it quick. Doctor’s just doing his rounds and I’ll get hell if he finds me here. They’ve recovered both bombs, and Kotze — the physicist chap — is singing like a bird. Seems SPECTRE’s a bunch of really big-time hoodlums — ex-operators of Smersh, the Mafia, the Gestapo — all the big outfits. Headquarters in Paris. Top man’s called Blofeld, but the bastard got awa
