Bond took off his coat and tie, put two sticks of chewing gum in his mouth, and donned the hood. The lights were switched off by Captain Sender, and Bond lay along the bed, got his eye to the eyepiece of the sniperscope, and gently lifted the bottom edge of the curtain back and over his shoulders.
His visit to the Ministry of Supply had added nothing to his knowledge of the case. He had studied Tallon's record and his reports. The former was quite straightforward-a lifetime in Army Intelligence and Field Security-and the latter painted a picture of a very lively and well-managed technical establishment-one or two cases of drunkenness, one of petty theft, several personal vendettas leading to fights and mild bloodshed but otherwise a loyal and hardworking team of men.
"Check," said Tiffany. "Spang was a member of the Syndicate at Vegas and these guys stick pretty much together. Then there's Shady Tree and those two torpedoes, Wint and Kidd, whoever they may be. The sooner we cross the State-line the better. Then what?"
I laughed up at him and pulled him under the shower. "All right, then. But I shan't be gentle. The last time I washed anyone it was a pony when I was about twelve! Anyway, I can hardly see which bit of you's which!" I got hold of the soap. "Put your face down. I'll try not to put too much in your eyes."