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Leiter’s got the names of our men in
Florida
, knows the Signals routine and so forth.’
‘If Leiter’s interested and if you don’t mind,’ said Bond, ‘I’d like very much to get up to
Harlem
this evening and have a look round. Might help to have some idea of what it looks like in Mr. Big’s back yard.’
Dexter reflected.
‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘Probably no harm. But don’t show yourselves too much. And don’t get hurt,’ lie added. ‘There’s no one to help you up there. And don’t go stirring up a lot of trouble for us. This case isn’t ripe yet. Until it is, our policy with Mr. Big is “live and let live”.’
Bond looked quizzically at Captain Dexter.
‘In my job,’ he said, ‘when I come up against a man like this one, I have another motto. It’s “live and let die”.’
Dexter shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but you’re under my orders here, Mr. Bond, and I’d be glad if you’d accept them.’
‘Of course,’ said Bond, ‘and thanks for all your help. Hope you have luck with your end of the job.’
Dexter flagged a cab. They shook hands.
‘Bye, fellers,’ said Dexter briefly. ‘Stay alive.’ His cab pulled out into the uptown traffic.
Bond and Leiter smiled at each other.
‘Able guy, I should say,’ said Bond.
They’re all that in his show,’ said Leiter. ‘Bit inclined to be stuffed shirts. Very touchy about their rights. Always bickering with us or with the police. But I guess you have much the same problem in
England
.’
‘Oh of course,’ said Bond. ‘We’re always rubbing MI 5 up the wrong way. And they’re always stepping on the corns of the Special Branch. Scotland Yard,’ he explained. ‘Well, how about going up to
Harlem
tonight?’
‘Suits me,’ said Leiter. ‘I’ll drop you at the St. Regis and pick you up again about six-thirty. Meet you in the
King
Cole
Bar
, on the ground floor. Guess you want to take a look at Mr. Big,’ he grinned. ‘Well, so do I, but it wouldn’t have done to tell Dexter so.’ He flagged a Yellow Cab.
‘
St.
Regis
Hotel
. Fifth at 55th.’
They climbed into the overheated tin box reeking of last week’s cigar-smoke.
Leiter wound down a window.
‘Whaddya want ter do?’ asked the driver over his shoulder. ‘Gimme pneumony?’
‘Just that,’ said Leiter, ‘if it means saving us from this gas chamber.’
‘Wise guy, hn?’ said the driver, crashing tinnily through his gears. He took the chewed end of a cigar from behind his ear and held it up. ‘Two bits for three,’ he said in a hurt voice.
‘Twenty-four cents too much,’ said Leiter. The rest of the drive was passed in silence.
They parted at the hotel and Bond went up to his room. It was
four o’clock
. He asked the telephone operator to call him at six. For a while he looked out of the window of his bedroom. To his left, the sun was setting in a blaze of colour. In the skyscrapers the lights were coming on, turning the whole town into a golden honeycomb. Far below the streets were rivers of neon lighting, crimson, blue, green. The wind sighed sadly outside in the velvet dusk, lending his room still more warmth and security and luxury. He drew the curtains and turned on the soft lights over his bed. Then he took off his clothes and climbed between the fine percale sheets. He thought of the bitter weather in the
London
streets, the grudging warmth of the hissing gas-fire in his office at Headquarters, the chalked-up menu on the pub he had passed on his last day in
London
: ‘Giant Toad & 2 Veg.’
He stretched luxuriously. Very soon he was asleep.

Up in
Harlem
, at the big switchboard, ‘The Whisper’ was dozing over his racing form. All his lines were quiet. Suddenly a light shone on the right of the board - an important light.
‘Yes, Boss,’ he said softly into his headphone. He couldn’t have spoken any louder if he had wished to. He had been born on ‘Lung Block’, on
Seventh Avenue
, at
142nd Street
, where death from TB is twice