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get through. Other cars were already drawn up in front of the building
a pink and white two-storey villa. Men prowled the grounds, and two
police cars and another van were parked almost out of sight behind a
clump of trees.
Inside, the furnishings were bare and without frills, the walls painted
in an institutional green.
Telephones purred and low conversations drifted from half-open doors.
Unsmiling, silent men and women moved between offices, carrying files.
They were escorted into a large room which had a rough table as a centre
piece. M sat near what had once been an ornate fireplace, while Bill
Tanner stood looking out of the window.
`I wanted him alive, James." M's eyes were full of reproach.
`I know, sir. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do. Why didn't
anybody know there was a brother?" `That's what we're waiting to find
out." Tanner spoke quietly, as though distracted. `The Italians are
getting a statement from him now, then we're going to be allowed to
interrogate him." `Somewhere along the line everybody slipped up." M
gazed into the empty fireplace. `It appears there were identical twins.
David and Daniel, but even the theatre Press didn't get on to Daniel, so
I fail to understand it. Someone as famous as David Dragonpol must have
been investigated by the Press. The media are pretty hot about these
things.
Usually they can quote every relative, living and dead." He made an
angry little noise through his teeth. `But that doesn't really excuse
any of us.
Nobody, not even myself, bothered to check out the family. We all
simply believed what was printed by the Press, and what appeared in the
biographies. The Dragonpols of Drimoleague.
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Two children, the last of the line. Maeve and David.
An orderly came in with coffee and sandwiches slices of baguettes
stuffed with cheese and ham but none of them seemed to have an appetite.
Then Gianne-Franco Orsini arrived, looking as neat and clean as though
he had just dressed for a party.
`Well, he saved your life, Captain Bond. This is for certain. I have
forensics people-ballistics and weapons experts who will bring the
weapon up in a moment. Diabolical. This brother, the Daniel Dragonpol,
has told us much. David made the weapon with his own hands.
Diabolical.
They saw just how diabolical it was a few minutes later, when a pair of
white-coated ballistics and firearms experts brought the thick walking
stick into the room, placed it on the table and, with a nod from
Gianne-Franco, demonstrated exactly how deadly it was.
`There was a second handle tucked into a specially made holster, on the
deceased man's body." One of them, speaking good English, placed another
brass duck's head on the table next to the complete stick.
Close up, they could see that the handles were much larger than any
ordinary walking stick with such a decoration. The stick was also much
thicker than normal, and made of a hard, highly polished smooth wood.
It was in reality made up of three sections, each hollowed out to a 9 mm
bore. One of the men unscrewed a length of some eighteen inches from
the bottom of the stick, revealing that this was plainly a
noise-reduction unit. The next long section also unscrewed. This was
undoubtedly the barrel of the gun, while the last six inches, together
with the heavy brass carving, made up the real works of the weapon.
The six inches of metal, encased in wood, was larger than the barrel and
contained a chamber, and a side opening for the ejection of used
cartridge cases, while the duck's head could be stripped down, showing a
cunning magazine and breech mechanism. There was room for three
Equalloy rounds one in the chamber and two in the duck's head.
The breech was operated in a standard manner, and the workmanship was
precise and hand-turned.
The duck's bill moved, forming the trigger, and there was even a safety
catch built into one of the brass eyes. When the bill was squeezed, a
firing pin made contact with the chambered round, and the gases threw
the entire mechanism back, ejecting the used casing, automatically
reloading with the second round, and so on for the third.
`We assume the noise-reduction system would have to be replaced after
three rounds have been fired,' the ballistics man told them. `We have
yet to test the thing, but my guess is that it would be accurate up to
around a hundred and thirty metres in yards, about one hundred fifty."
`And it was loaded, just like this?" Bond asked.
`Loaded with the safety off, sir,' the other expert said gravely.
`As I understand it, he was bringing the thing up to his hip and aiming
directly at you.
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If he hadn't been taken out, you would have been." Fredericka's fingers
dug into Bond's arm.
`You always had the devil's own luck, James." M did not sound impressed.
`What of the second mechanism?" pointing to the other duck's head.
`Even more cunning." The expert began to dismantle the brass and wood.
There was no doubt what this had been used for. The head again
contained a breech block, but this time of a much smaller bore, while
the mechanism contained a CO2 cartridge. In the chamber they could just
see a tiny gelatin capsule.
The two firearms men both agreed that there had to be another, smaller
bore, barrel somewhere, and that the capsule would have to be examined
by forensics. `But with the information we have been given, I think
it's obvious what this one does, gentlemen, and what the capsule
contains. We're handling it with great care." `Diabolical!"
Gianne-Franco used his favourite word again. When the firearms people
had left, Bond decided it was time to eat. He bit into one of the large
ham-filled baguettes and M winced at the crunching noise.
Eventually they all ate, as it was obviously going to be a long night.
They had almost cleared the large plate of sandwiches when several
security men and two senior police officers came in with the man they
now knew as Daniel Dragonpol. He looked tired and haggard, but it was
quite clear that, as far as build and features were concerned, he was
identical to his brother, David. He looked around the room, and gave
Bond a bleak smile of recognition.
Nobody tried to restrict his movements, and one of the police officers
passed a small stack of typewritten pages over to Gianne-Franco Orsini.
`I have told these gentlemen everything,' Dragonpol said, sitting down
at the table as though holding a Press conference. The voice had the
same timbre known to theatre and movie aficionados all over the world as
that of the great actor. `I'm quite willing to answer any questions,
and I realize that I might well have to stand trial for the murder of my
brother, and the, admitted, manslaughter of Carmel Chantry. I don't
know what happened. I was aiming at my brother and she shouted
something. It must have been a reflex.: He hesitated. `I was very fond
of His Chantry who like you, James-thought I was my brother, David."
`And I must thank you for saving my life, Day Daniel.
Is that correct? Daniel?" Daniel Dragonpol nodded. `Quite correct,
James. I'm very sorry to have misled you, and a lot of other people.
Our family is close and proud.
Wrongly, we tried to keep David's condition hidden." Something stirred
in Bond's mind.
Daniel, he thought, sounded as though he was on autopilot.
Perhaps it was some kind of shock. He remembered Dragonpol at Schloss
Drache talking about his family's pride.
`That's what I want to know about." M had moved to the table, shoulders
hunched, and his chin in his hands. `Why did nobody know that the
famous David Dragonpol had an identical twin?" `Many people did know. It
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was a fact to everybody in Drimoleague, where we were born, and older
folk in Cornwall knew. But they were also very loyal, and after a
couple of years the family put it about that one of the twins had died.
Anybody who cared to take a good look through the public records-births,
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