![]() He must have sensed that she was trying to pull back from him. It was yet another calculated risk, for Trevelyan might easily play things safe and back up as soon as the tank was spotted: a move that could quickly take the train out of range.He was also gambling on Natalya being held somewhere in the rear of the carriages.He would only have one chance, one shell to take out the engine, and almost as soon as he had depressed the firing button it would be necessary for him to be up and away through the hatch. ![]() In the short time Bond had available, he had chosen the best possible point for his ambush on a mile length of straight railway track leading into a short tunnel. He opened the hatch, climbed into the gunner's seat and examined the shells in their racks.The T55 carried three types of shell for the 100mm gun: Smoke, High Explosive and Armour Piercing.Bond did not have to think twice.The gun was easy enough to load, and with the engine at idle, he could swing the turret and depress the barrel so that it was pointing directly at where the train would appear. When he smiled it was only with the right side of his mouth, and the left eye seemed to close, its reptilian eyelid sliding down very slowly. Well, my dear, James and I shared everything at one time. Strangely, the only thing worrying him was the very small amount of ammunition in the machine pistol.He thought it would now be about six rounds, which were not enough to take out Trevelyan and his lieutenants. She gave a noncommittal nod, just the slightest movement of her head. His lips brushed her neck, then he moved a hand, turning her face, lowering his lips to her mouth. We shared absolutely everything, and you must understand that to the victor go the spoils.- You can make your life very pleasant.You can even live in luxury for some time.Eventually you will come to like me very much. I shall enjoy breaking you, Natalya Fyodorovna. As he came even closer she smelled a cologne and coffee, but something else.For a second she could not place it, then realised that it was the smell of burning flesh, and she did not know whether she was imagining this or not.Someone had once told her that when it rained in Berlin you could still smell the burning of that city: the hint of how it had smelled after countless bombings and the final bombardment that had taken place fifty years ago, during the war.
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