Moonraker by Ian Fleming Page A

up. Somebody said that to become very rich you have to be helped by a combination of remarkable circumstances and an unbroken run of luck. It certainly isn’t only the qualities of people that make them rich. At least that’s my experience. At the beginning, getting together the first ten thousand, or the first hundred thousand, things have got to go damn right.
And in that commodity business after the war, with all the regulations and restrictions, I expect it was often a case of being able to drop a thousand pounds in the right pocket. Officials. The ones who understand nothing but addition, division-and silence. The useful ones.”
M. paused while the next course came. With it arrived the champagne in a silver ice-bucket, and the small wicker-basket containing M.’s half-bottle of claret.
The wine-steward waited until they had delivered a favourable judgment on the wines and then moved away. As he did so a page came up to their table. “Commander Bond?” he asked.
Bond took the envelope that was handed to him and slit it open. He took out a thin paper packet and carefully opened it under the level of the table. It contained a white powder. He took a silver fruit knife off the table and dipped the tip of the blade into the packet so that about half its contents were transferred to the knife. He reached for his glass of champagne and tipped the powder into it.
“Now what?” said M. with a trace of impatience.
There was no hint of apology in Bond’s face. It wasn’t M. who was going to have to do the work that evening. Bond knew what he was doing. Whenever he had a job of work to do he would take infinite pains beforehand and leave as little as possible to chance. Then if something went wrong it was the unforeseeable. For’ that he accepted no responsibility.
“Benzedrine,” he said. “I rang up my secretary before dinner and asked her to wangle some out of the surgery at Headquarters. It’s what I shall need if I’m going to keep my wits about me tonight. It’s apt to make one a bit overconfident, but that’ll be a help too.” He stirred the champagne with a scrap of toast so that the white powder whirled among the bubbles. Then he drank the mixture down with one long swallow. “It doesn’t taste,” said Bond, “and the champagne is quite excellent.”
M. smiled at him indulgently. “It’s your funeral,” he said.-“Now we’d better get on with our dinner. How were the cutlets?”
“Superb,” said Bond. “I could cut them with a fork. The best English cooking is the best in the world-particularly at this time of the year. By the way, what stakes will we be playing for this evening? I don’t mind very much. We ought to end up the winners. But I’d like to know how much it will cost Drax.”
“Drax likes to play for what he calls ‘One and One’,” said M., helping himself from the strawberries that had just been put on the table. “Modest sounding stake, if you don’t know what it stands for. In fact it’s one tenner a hundred and one hundred pounds on the rubber.”
“Oh,” said Bond respectfully. “I see.”
“But he’s perfectly happy to play for Two and Two or even Three and Three. Mounts up at those figures. The average rubber of bridge at Blades is about ten points. That’s £200 at One and One. And the bridge here makes for big rubbers. There are no conventions so there’s plenty of gambling and bluffing. Sometimes it’s more like poker. They’re a mixed lot of players. Some of them are the best in England, but others are terribly wild. Don’t seem to mind how much they lose. General Bealey, just behind us.” M. made a gesture with his head, “doesn’t know the reds from the blacks. Nearly always a few hundred down at the end of the week. Doesn’t seem to care. Bad heart. No dependants. Stacks of money from jute. But Duff Sutherland, the scruffy-looking chap next to the chairman, is an absolute killer. Makes a regular ten thousand a year out of the club. Nice chap.