Air Raid Shelters

141

     Bond saw straight away that the photographs of the crane fly and the locust had been removed from the wall, as had the large map of Stockport. The new occupant of the office informed him that Goldnojaws had gone with them.
     After Bond had established his credentials he learned from the new owner that Goldnojaws had sold the factory to him lock, stock and barrel some two months ago, and no, he didn’t have any idea where the dwarf could be found. Bond thanked him and left.
     As he slipped back behind the wheel of the Aston Bond speculated as to where Goldnojaws could be. Anywhere in Stockport, he supposed. Or anywhere else for that matter. However Bond was certain that the dwarf would have set up his new HQ within the town limits, it would appeal to his warped sense of humour to be living amongst the people who had forced him out of his place of birth and who he would very soon be exacting a terrible revenge on. But where in Stockport? One of the places he had bought? Casino Royale perhaps? The football ground? Maybe the Pyramid building? For no other reason than he had to start somewhere Bond set the twelve cylinders of the Aston Martin in motion and headed for the Pyramid building. On the way there he had to pee. Dr Singh’s probing index finger having made his condition worse if anything. Fortunately the only public toilets in Stockport so far as Bond knew, situated in the Merseyway Shopping Precinct, were more or less on the way to the Pyramid building and not too far distant.
     In fact the entrance to the toilets was almost exactly opposite the Air Raid Shelters and when Bond emerged from the Gents’ after relieving himself he was surprised to notice that not only had the reception area at the Air Raid Shelters not been demolished and replaced by Goldnojaws’ promised ten storey department store but that the Air Raid Shelter complex itself was still open for business. It was by no means the only surprise Bond would receive that day.
     Bond crossed the road and entered the Air Raid Shelters. The same sprightly seventy-year-old guide he had spoken to on his visit almost six months earlier was still on duty, now even sprightlier than before. “Oh yes, we’re still here,” he beamed, when Bond expressed his surprise that the place was still open. “Yes, Dr Goldnojaws, bless him – he’s the new owner – he had a change of heart.”