Bond Movies 03 - Licence to Kill by John Gardner

Krest’s voice was not only slurred with drink but hard and bitter.
    ‘You’re borracho . I told you, I was trying to sleep. Why you keep bothering me like this? Get yourself to bed.’
    There was a scraping noise, as though Krest had risen from a chair. ‘You know, when Sanchez heard you’d run off with that idiot, he went nuts. Never seen him so angry.’
    ‘This is none of your business, Krest. Go, and let me get some sleep.’
    ‘Oh, none of my business, eh? None – of – my – business. You gotta understand, kiddie, it is my business when your playing around gets Sanchez arrested and leaves me to mount an escape operation. That escape put my own people at risk. Not just my people either. You realise the Key West warehouse got raided by the DEA. Cost me a whole load of money.’
    ‘He’ll get your money back.’
    Krest gave an unpleasant laugh. ‘Sanchez doesn’t work like that. You haven’t figured that out for yourself yet? I’ve known him the hell of a sight longer than you, you bimbo. I’ve seen girls like you come and go . . .’
    Lupe snapped, ‘Get out, Krest. You’re drunk, and you’re annoying me. So get out. Now. Or I’ll make certain Sanchez won’t give you a red cent.’
    Krest’s shadow filled the door. ‘We’ve got a serious operation running out here, Lupe. So you just keep in your cabin.’ Bond could see him clearly now, dressed in old slacks and a shirt. ‘What’re you so damned stuck-up for? He fixed that beauty contest for you. You know that? He fixed it. He . . .’ Something hit the wall near the door which Krest closed, giving a little laugh. ‘Stupid little cow,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Doesn’t know when she’s well off.’ He was unsteady on his feet as he made his way to a cabin door nearer the aft end of the superstructure.
    The lights in Lupe’s cabin went out, just as those in Krest’s came on. Half an hour later both cabins were in darkness.
    Bond waited a further half-hour, looking at the open ports in both cabins. Then, as the first light began to show from the east, he slipped from his hiding place to the door of the cabin occupied by Lupe. He could see the brass plaque now. It read ‘Owner’s Stateroom’. Carefully he tried the handle. It was shut tightly, so he reached for the wallet, zipped and watertight, which he kept in his back pocket. He was about to make his next move when the lights came on in Krest’s cabin.
    Bond flattened himself against the metal wall, edging towards the first open port of Krest’s cabin. He heard the quick beep-beep of a telephone number being punched out. Then Krest’s voice.
    ‘Any sign of Clive yet?’ There was a pause as he listened. Then, ‘Okay. He should be back soon. It’s nearly first light and the plane’ll be here before we know it. Best send a couple of men to load the stuff into Sentinel . I want the exchange to go like clockwork. It’s always risky. I don’t like that damned plane on the water for too long. Okay, get on with it.’
    So, the blue shrink-wrapped packages were to be loaded on to Sentinel . Drugs, Bond guessed, and if a couple of men were going down to the decompression chamber, they would soon report that an intruder was on board.
    He pulled his knife from his belt, then unzipped the wallet, taking out a credit card and inserting it carefully into the space between door and lock on Lupe’s cabin. ‘Hope it takes Master-charge,’ he muttered. There was a slight click and the door opened. Quickly he returned the credit card, zipped up his wallet, returned it to his pocket, then took the knife in his right hand.
    He made no sound getting into the cabin, closing and locking the door behind him, then standing for a minute so that his eyes could adjust, though the darkness outside was starting to dissolve into the pearly wash of day.
    Lupe Lamora lay on her back, sprawled across the bed, dressed only in a small, lacy bikini. No wonder she won the beauty contest, he thought.