Doubleshot

TWENTY - TWO

BULLRING

THEY LED HIM THROUGH THE BULLRING ENTRANCE AND SHOVED HIM TO THE soft dirt in the center of the bullring. With his hands still tied behind his back, there was not much that Bond could do to fight back. Peredur Glyn, the man who looked like James Bond, stood against the fence. Three Spanish guards were at the shields, watching Bond intently.

“This is Domingo’s practice bullring,” Margareta said. “It’s a marvelous facility. The annex is equipped with everything one needs to breed fighting bulls. Domingo also uses part of the complex as a slaughterhouse. Have you ever seen what those vats of acid do to the remains of animal parts, Mr. Bond? The acid melts the skin right off the bones, and before long, the bones disintegrate as well. You get to experience this once-in-a-lifetime sensation firsthand!”

Yassasin addressed Glyn. “After you’ve had your fun, make sure there is nothing left. Report to Margareta when you’re finished, then you can have your blond American.”

“Yes, sir,” the imposter Bond said, not taking his eyes off the man he was going to kill.

Yassasin turned to Margareta and said, “I’m off to Gibraltar. Needless to say, make sure he makes it to the meeting on time.” He indicated Glyn.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “That American girl will keep him occupied. We’ll set off bright and early.”

The pair began walking back through the door. Yassasin turned and said, as an afterthought, “Good-bye, Mr. Bond.” The door closed and Bond was alone with his double and the three men.

Bond struggled to his feet and looked at his captors. What now? he wondered. He prepared himself for a beating, for he was certain they would want him alive when they were ready to use the acid. Bond scanned the ring for any sign of an escape. The shields were well covered by the guards.

One of the men said something in Spanish that Bond didn’t catch. Glyn nodded, then all of them moved behind a shield. One man remained in the ring, moved to the bull’s gate, and opened it.

A full-grown, fighting-mad black bull charged into the ring. The guard closed the door behind the animal, then quickly ran to the safety of the shield.

Bond froze, knowing full well that if he moved, the bull would charge. The bull was agitated. It ran to and fro, looking for a way out of this strange pen. Then it saw Bond, standing in the middle of the ring. Bond held his breath, but it was no good. The bull sensed the human’s fear, and it charged at full speed.

Bond broke into a run across the ring, but the bull was fast. It attempted to slam into its moving target, but Bond sidestepped the animal just in time. The bull dug its front hooves into the dirt and skidded to a stop. It turned around and charged again. This time Bond ran to a shield, but the guard there thrust a spike at him. The sharp barb jabbed Bond’s shoulder, causing him to recoil in pain. He fell back against the fence, only to see the bull charging straight for him. Bond spun around and away just as the bull’s horns smashed into the fence. The men laughed and taunted Bond in Spanish. Peredur Glyn shouted, “If I were you, Mr. Bond, I would let the bull kill you. That would be preferable to watching your skin fall off in a vat of acid, don’t you think?”

The bull recovered from the missed attack, then charged at Bond again. Bond ran along the fence, searching for anything that might cut the binds around his wrists.

Suddenly, the bullring entrance opened, and a picador, carrying a pair of lances, entered on horseback. The bull, seeing the horse, forgot about Bond momentarily and charged at it. The picador expertly maneuvered the horse around the bull and successfully thrust a lance into the bull’s withers. The bull snorted and bellowed, becoming even angrier.

Bond could feel the bull’s immense power even from across the ring. There was no other beast quite like it. It was a galloping locomotive weighing over a thousand pounds. It had one intention, and that was to destroy what it perceived to be its enemy.

The picador galloped his horse around the ring, leading the bull in a chase. Bond managed to get out of the way, but the bull’s concentration was on the horse at the moment. In a surprise turn, the picador doubled back and threw the second lance into the bull.

The bull, confused and angered by the pain, stopped to take stock of its situation. The gate opened again, and the picador rode out, leaving the bull alone with Bond again.

It turned to Bond, breathing heavily. A crimson stream flowed down its side.

Bond turned his back on the bull and walked slowly toward the fence. As long as he didn’t make any sudden movement, perhaps he could continue to avoid the bull until it tired out.

But he had no such luck. The bull pawed the dirt, snorted, and bolted toward him. Bond ran to the shield, but he heard Glyn shout something in Spanish. The sound of machinery echoed in the ring as the shield suddenly moved back into the fence, blocking off the safety zone. In fact, all of the shields in the ring had slid back and were now flush with the fence. There was no way out.

Glyn and the others were now behind the fence, whistling and taunting Bond.

Bond ran along the fence, the bull close on his heels. Bond zigzagged, attempting to throw the bull off its concentration, but the animal stayed with him. He ran faster, but he could hear the pounding of the bull’s hooves on the ground coming closer and closer behind him.

The force of the impact took Bond by surprise. He felt a hammer-like slam in the small of his back, and for a moment he was in midair. The bull had butted him and thrown his body into the air like a paper cup. Bond landed hard on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. The bull turned and charged with its head down and horns pointed forward.

Bond rolled out of the way with split-second timing, avoiding a terrible goring.

The men laughed and jeered.

Bond got to his feet and stood in front of the bull, attempting to adapt a matador’s stance. He stared at the bull, daring it to make another move. The bull hesitated just a moment, then charged again. This time Bond was ready. He allowed the bull to broadside him close enough so that Bond could perhaps grab one of the lances sticking out of the bull’s back. It was an awkward maneuver with his hands tied behind him, and the first time he tried it, he missed. Bond beckoned to the bull again, and this time he spun around as the bull passed him and took hold of the lance with his right hand.

The bull, confused by the additional pain of having the lance’s barbs tear out of its wound, stopped. It trotted to one side of the ring, staking out what was called a querencia, an area of the bullring where the bull felt secure. Many times in a real bullfight, a bull might retreat to this area and refuse to leave. It was up to the matador to draw it out to fight.

Bond used the momentary lull to thrust the lance’s handle into the soft dirt, with the point sticking up. Even with his hands behind him, Bond managed to angle the lance so that he could reach the barbs with his wrists. He rubbed the bindings against the barbs.

“Hey, that’s against the rules!” Glyn shouted.

The other men shouted at the bull, trying to provoke it into attacking before Bond could cut the binds.

The barbs cut into his hands as he did it, but Bond was finally successful in freeing himself before the bull charged. Somehow, it had sensed that Bond was about to gain an advantage over it.

Bond pulled the lance out of the ground and pointed it at the bull. Now aware that the strange polelike object brought pain, the bull slowed its charge and moved away.

The men booed the bull. One of them climbed on top of the fence and sat on it, his feet dangling over the now-flat shield.

A gunshot rang out, reverberating in the enclosed bullring. The jeering stopped as the men looked around.

The man on the fence clutched his chest and fell over into the ring.

The others immediately jumped into action, pulling out their weapons and looking around the seating sections.

“James!” came Heidi’s voice. “Here!”

An object flew down from the darker area of the upper stands and landed on the dirt near Bond. He picked it up and found that it was her high-powered OC pepper spray canister.

Peredur Glyn fired his weapon into the stands but missed the girl.

“Get her! Don’t let her escape! I’ll deal with the prisoner!” he shouted.

The two other men raced up the stands as another shot ricocheted around the ring. Bond could now see Heidi as she ran from the seats to the exit, into the pasillo.

Meanwhile, the bull, frightened and confused by the sudden loud noises, seemed to pick up a second wind. It charged full speed at Bond.

Bond opened the canister, aimed, and sprayed the bull head-on.

The bull bellowed and tripped on its own front legs. It fell over with a crash, blinded and in pain. It managed to pull itself up, shaking its head, then sauntered around the ring in a daze. The fight had gone out of it for now.

Peredur Glyn jumped into the ring from the top of the fence. He was holding the thin sword that could pierce the hide of a thousandpound bull. Running it through a human being would be like slicing butter.

Bond readied the lance as he came face-to-face with his mirror image.

Meanwhile, Heidi had run into the pasillo and around to the passage she had found when she had come looking for a way in. She ran through it as bullets whizzed past her. She turned and fired her USP45, but it was too dark to see anything. She kept running and eventually found herself in the slaughterhouse.

The stench was overwhelming, and the place was a nightmare of hanging carcasses, animal body parts—bulls, cows, horses—and slimy, foul vats where the beasts were dismembered and skinned.

Heidi searched frantically for a way out, but the sound of the men behind her forced her to duck between two hanging bull carcasses.

The men entered the room, muttering to each other in Spanish. They paused a moment, then split up. One man moved to the right, the other to the left, so that they could cover the entire room in a circular sweep.

As soon as one man was in her sights, Heidi aimed and squeezed the trigger. The blast knocked the man into a table covered in offal and blood. She ducked just as the remaining guard leveled his gun and fired a succession of shots in her direction. The bullets penetrated the hanging carcass with a thump-thump-thump. Heidi ran, keeping low, but a burning, knifelike pain shot through her left shoulder as one of the bullets connected. She fell back into a carcass and bounced. The gun slipped from her hand and slid across the concrete floor.

Heidi was in terrible pain. The bullet had entered her body just below the collarbone. It was a perilous wound. She didn’t know if her lung had been pierced or not. Using every bit of strength that she could muster, she reached down to her calf and took hold of the object that was secured to her leg. Then she lay very still.

The guard cautiously approached her, gun in hand. Was she dead? He stepped up to her body and nudged it with his foot. Blood was spreading all over the floor and her eyes were closed. She had to be dead.

He made the fatal mistake of bending down to see if she was still breathing.

The hunting knife swung up and perforated the man’s heart. His gun discharged into the air as he fell over next to her.

Heidi attempted to sit up, but the room was spinning. The pain was unbearable. God, don’t let me die here, she prayed.

She tried to stand, but couldn’t. Blood was pouring out of her wound like tap water.

The last thing she was aware of before blacking out was that she had still not found her sister.

Back in the bullring, James Bond and Peredur Glyn circled each other with their respective weapons. The bull, curious but wary of the two humans, stayed at the edge of the fence to let them fight it out. It was still smarting from the pepper spray.

Bond thought it was one of the most unsettling sensations he had ever felt. Here he was, facing an enemy that was, to all outward appearances, himself. If ever he had needed a clear head, it was now. Unfortunately, the throbbing in his head had taken over and his heart was pounding from the exertion and anxiety.

Glyn charged at Bond like the bull, the sword held straight in front of him. Bond feinted, swung the lance, and caught the imposter in the stomach. Glyn doubled over and dropped the sword. Bond broke the lance over Glyn’s head, but the man merely fell to his knees and shook it off. He reached out, grabbed Bond’s legs, and tackled him.

They rolled together on the dirt, their hands clutching at each other’s throats.

Glyn managed to get on top. Bond was exhausted from the ordeal with the bull, and his increasingly disorienting condition was not making it any easier.

The man who looked like Bond whispered through his teeth, “When you see … your double … it mean you’re … going to die.…”

Both grips tightened as each man attempted to strangle the other before their strength gave out.

Then the hazy dark cloud that had been plaguing Bond for months began to descend again.

No! Not now! Bond screamed to himself. I mustn’t black out now!

His enemy’s fingers dug into his throat. The lights in the ceiling spun above the imposter’s head, bringing on nausea and the inevitable feeling that death was mere seconds away.

Bond fought the blackout with every ounce of willpower he could summon from the depths of his soul … but it was no use.

The dark curtain fell with a crash and then there was nothing.