Chapter 20
Black on Pink
Bond whirled round. He looked over to the bed, but his eyes were blind from gazing at the moon. He crossed the room and turned on the pink-shaded light by the bed. There was a long body under the single sheet. Brown hair was spread out on the pillow. The tips of fingers showed, holding the sheet up over the face. Lower down the breasts stood up like hills under snow.
Bond laughed shortly. He leaned forward and gave the hair a soft tug. There was a squeak of protest from under the sheet. Bond sat down on the edge of the bed. After a moment's silence a corner of the sheet was cautiously lowered and one large blue eye inspected him.
'You look very improper.' The voice was muffled by the sheet.
'What about you! And how did you get here?'
'I walked down two floors. I live here too.' The voice was deep and provocative. There was very little accent.
'Well, I'm going to get into bed.'
The sheet came quickly down to the chin and the girl pulled herself up on the pillows. She was blushing. 'Oh no. You mustn't.'
'But it's my bed. And anyway you told me to.' The face was incredibly beautiful. Bond examined it coolly. The blush deepened.
'That was only a phrase. To introduce myself.'
'Well I'm very glad to meet you. My name's James Bond.'
'Mine's Tatiana Romanova.' She sounded the second 'a' of Tatiana and the first 'a' of Romanova very long. 'My friends call me Tania.'
There was a pause while they looked at each other, the girl with curiosity, and with what might have been relief. Bond with cool surmise.
She was the first to break the silence. 'You look just like your photographs,' she blushed again. 'But you must put something on. It upsets me.'
'You upset me just as much. That's called sex. If I got into bed with you it wouldn't matter. Anyway, what have you got on?'
She pulled the sheet a fraction lower to show a quarter-inch black velvet ribbon round her neck. 'This.'
Bond looked down into the teasing blue eyes, now wide as if asking if the ribbon was inadequate. He felt his body getting out of control.
'Damn you, Tania. Where are the rest of your things? Or did you come down in the lift like that?'
'Oh no. That would not have been kulturny. They are under the bed.'
'Well, if you think you are going to get out of this room without...'
Bond left the sentence unfinished. He got up from the bed and went to put on one of the dark blue silk pyjama coats he wore instead of pyjamas.
'What you are suggesting is not kulturny.'
'Oh isn't it,' said Bond sarcastically. He came back to the bed and pulled up a chair beside it. He smiled down at her. 'Well I'll tell you something kulturny. You're one of the most beautiful women in the world.'
The girl blushed again. She looked at him seriously. 'Are you speaking the truth? I think my mouth is too big. Am I as beautiful as Western girls? I was once told I look like Greta Garbo. Is that so?'
'More beautiful,' said Bond. 'There is more light in your face. And your mouth isn't too big. It's just the right size. For me, anyway.'
'What is that--"light in the face"? What do you mean?'
Bond meant that she didn't look to him like a Russian spy. She seemed to show none of the reserve of a spy. None of the coldness, none of the calculation. She gave the impression of warmth of heart and gaiety. These things shone out through the eyes. He searched for a non-committal phrase. 'There is a lot of gaiety and fun in your eyes,' he said lamely.
Tatiana looked serious. 'That is curious,' she said. 'There is not much fun and gaiety in Russia. No one speaks of these things. I have never been told that before.'
Gaiety? She thought, after the last two months? How could she be looking gay? And yet, yes, there was a lightness in her heart. Was she a loose woman by nature? Or was it something to do with this man she had never seen before? Relief about him after the agony of thinking about what she had to do? It was certainly much easier than she had expected. He made it easy--made it fun, with a spice of danger. He was terribly handsome. And he looked very clean. Would he forgive her when they got to London and she told him? Told him that she had been sent to seduce him? Even the night on which she must do it and the number of the room? Surely he wouldn't mind very much. It was doing him no harm. It was only a way for her to get to England and make those reports. 'Gaiety and fun in her eyes'. Well, why not? It was possible. There was a wonderful sense of freedom being alone with a man like this and knowing that she would not be punished for it. It was really terribly exciting.
'You are very handsome,' she said. She searched for a comparison that would give him pleasure. 'You are like an American film star.'
She was startled by his reaction. 'For God's sake! That's the worst insult you can pay a man!'
She hurried to make good her mistake. How curious that the compliment didn't please him. Didn't everyone in the West want to look like a film star? 'I was lying,' she said. 'I wanted to give you pleasure. In fact you are like my favourite hero. He's in a book by a Russian called Lermontov. I will tell you about him one day.'
One day? Bond thought it was time to get down to business.
'Now listen, Tania.' He tried not to look at the beautiful face on the pillow. He fixed his eyes on the point of her chin. 'We've got to stop fooling and be serious. What is all this about? Are you really going to come back to England with me?' He raised his eyes to hers. It was fatal. She had opened them wide again in that damnable guilelessness.
'But of course!'
'Oh!' Bond was taken aback by the directness of her answer. He looked at her suspiciously. 'You're sure?'
Yes.' Her eyes were truthful now. She had stopped flirting.
'You're not afraid?'
He saw a shadow cross her eyes. But it was not what he thought. She had remembered that she had a part to play. She was to be frightened of what she was doing. Terrified. It had sounded so easy, this acting, but now it was difficult. How odd! She decided to compromise.
'Yes. I am afraid. But not so much now. You will protect me. I thought you would.'
'Well, yes, of course I will.' Bond thought of her relatives in Russia. He quickly put the thought out of his mind. What was he doing? Trying to dissuade her from coming? He closed his mind to the consequences he imagined for her. 'There's nothing to worry about. I'll look after you.' And now for the question he had been shirking. He felt a ridiculous embarrassment. The girl wasn't in the least what he had expected. It was spoiling everything to ask the question. It had to be done.
'What about the machine?'
Yes. It was as if he had cuffed her across the face. Pain showed in her eyes, and the edge of tears.
She pulled the sheet over her mouth and spoke from behind it. Her eyes above the sheet were cold.
'So that's what you want.'
'Now listen.' Bond put nonchalance in his voice. 'This machine's got nothing to do with you and me. But my people in London want it.' He remembered security. He added blandly, 'It's not all that important. They know all about the machine and they think it's a wonderful Russian invention. They just want one to copy. Like your people copy foreign cameras and things.' God, how lame it sounded!
'Now you're lying,' a big tear rolled out of one wide blue eye and down the soft cheek and on to the pillow. She pulled the sheet up over her eyes.
Bond reached out and put his hand on her arm under the sheet. The arm flinched angrily