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his weapon； reaching into a hip pocket to bring out a hard oblong box。
One of the newers helped remove Bond's jacket while the other's hands rested firmly on his shoulders。
Unresisting； Bond allowed them to roll up his sleeve while the leader filled a hypodermic syringe； lifting it so that the needle pointed upwards。 A tiny squirt of colourless liquid arched into the air。 Bond felt a damp swab on the upper part of his arm。
〃It's okay；' the leader said with a smile。 〃We do want you in one piece； I assure you。 As the actress said to the bishop； just a little 。 。 。 er 。 。 。 a little jab。〃 Somebody gave a loud laugh； and Bond heard another say something in a language he did not recognise。 He did not even feel the needle slide home。
At first he thought he was in a helicopter； lying flat on his back with the machine bucking under him。 He could hear the chug of the engine turning the rotor blades。
Then； far away； came the rip of automatic firing。 For a time； Bond drifted away again； then the helicopter sensation returned； acpanied by a series of loud explosions near at hand。
Opening his eyes； he saw an electric fan turning slowly above his head； and became aware of white walls and the simple metal bedframe on which he lay； fully dressed。
He propped himself on one arm。 Physically he felt fine： no nausea； no headache； eyes focused properly。 He held out his right hand； fingers splayed。 There was no tremor。
The room； bare of furniture apart from the bed； had just one door and a window covered with mesh inside and bars on the outside。
Sunlight appeared dimly through the aperture。
As he swung his feet on to the floor he heard another distant explosion。 He stood up and found his legs steady。
Halfway to the door； there came the sound of more machine…gun fire … again at a distance。 The door was locked； and he could make out little through the window。
The mesh on the inside was a thick papery adhesive substance； which had been applied to the panes of glass； making it impossible to get any clear view。 It would also prevent fragmentation from blast。
Bond was convinced he was not in England。 The temperature inside the little white room； even with the fan turning round and round； was not induced by the kind of heat you ever got in England； even in the most brilliant of summers。
The sounds of small arms fire； punctuated by the occasional explosion； suggested he was in some war zone。
He tried the door again； then had a look at the lock。 It was solid； well…made； and more than efficient。 There would almost certainly be bolts on the outside too。
Methodically he went through his pockets but found nothing。 They had cleaned him out。 Even his watch was missing； and the metal bedframe appeared to be a one…piece affair。 Given time； and some kind of lever； he might be able to force a piece of thick wire from the springs； but it would be an arduous business and he had no way of knowing how long he would be left alone。
When in doubt； do nothing； Bond thought。
He went back to the bed and stretched out； going over the events still fresh in his mind。 The attempt to get away with the puter programs。 Posting them。 The trailing cars。 The wood and his capture。
The needle。 He was the only one to have fired a shot。 Almost certainly he had hit … probably killed … one of them。 Yet； apart from their natural caution； they had been careful to make sure that he was unharmed。 A connection between his visit to Jay Autem Holy and the current situation was probable； though not certain。 Take nothing for granted。 Wait for revelations。 Expect the worst。
Bond lay there； mentally prepared； for the best part of twenty minutes。 At last there came footsteps … muffled； as though boots crunched over earth； but the tread had a decidedly military sound。
Bolts were drawn back and the door to Bond's room was unlocked and opened。
He caught a glimpse of sand； low white buildings and two armed men dressed in drab olive uniforms。 A third person stepped into the room。
He was the one who had administered the knock…out injection in the Oxfordshire wood。 Now he wore uniform … a simple olive drab battledress； smart with no insignia or badges of rank。 He had on desert boots and a revolver of high calibre holstered on the right of his webbing belt。 A long sheathed knife hung from the belt on the left。 His head was covered by a light brown； almost makeshift； kafflyeh held in place by a red band。 One of the men outside reached in and closed the door。
〃Had a good sleep； Mr。 Bond？〃 The man's smile was almost infectious。 As he looked up； Bond remembered his feelings about the eyes。
〃I'd rather have been awake。〃
〃You're all right； though？ No ill effects？〃 Bond shook his head。
〃Right。 My name's Simon。〃 The man was crisp and businesslike； extending a hand which Bond did not take。
〃We hold no grudge over our man；' he said after a slight pause。
〃You killed him； by the way。 But he was being paid to risk his life。〃 He shrugged。 〃We underestimated you； I fear。 My fault。 Nobody thought you'd be carrying a gun。 After all； you're not in the trade any more。 I guessed that； if you were armed； it would be for old time's sake； and nothing as lethal as that thing。 It's unfamiliar to us； incidentally。 What is it exactly？〃
〃My name is James Bond； formerly mander； Royal Navy。 Formerly Foreign Service。 Now retired。〃 Simon's face creased into a puzzled look for a moment。
〃Oh； yes。 I see。 Name and rank。〃 He gave a one…note laugh。
〃Sorry to disappoint you； mander Bond； but you're not a prisoner of war。 When you outran us in that beautiful motor car there was no way to let you know we came as emissaries。 In friendship。 A possible job。〃
〃You could have shouted。 In the wood； you could have shouted； if that was the truth。〃
〃And would you have believed us？〃 There was silence。
〃Quite。 No； I think not； mander Bond。 So we had to bring you in； alive and well； using only minimal force。〃 Bond thought for a moment。 〃I demand to know where I am and who you people are。〃
〃In good time。 All in 〃Where am I？〃 Bond snapped。
〃Erewhon。〃 Simon gave a low chuckle。 〃We go in for code names； cryptonyms。 For safety； security； and our peace of mind … just in case you turn down the job； or even prove to be not quite the man we want。
This place is called Erewhon。 Now sir； the Officer manding would like a word。〃 Bond slowly got off the bed； reached out and grasped Simon's left wrist； aware of the man's other hand moving swiftly to the revolver butt。
〃mander； I wouldn't advise 〃Okay； I'm not going to attack you。
I just don't recall having applied for a job。 Not with anybody。〃
〃Oh； really？ No； I suppose you haven't。〃 There was mocking ingenuousness in Simon's voice。 〃But you're out of work； mander Bond。 That's true； surely？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃And； by nature； you're not an idle man。 We wanted to … how would you say it？ We wanted to put something your way。
Bond eyed the man intently。 〃Wouldn't it have been more civilised to make your offer by invitation in England instead of this abduction？〃 〃The Officer manding Erewhon wishes to talk to you；' Simon said with a winning smile； as if