Автор: Ян Флеминг

Winner of the PROSE Award for Chemistry & Physics 2010 Acknowledging the very best in professional and scholarly publishing, the annual PROSE Awards recognise publishers' and authors' commitment to pioneering works of research and for...

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling – a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension – becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it. ...

“It was one of those Septembers when it seemed that the summer would never end. The five-mile promenade of Royale-les-Eaux, backed by trim lawns emblazoned at intervals with tricolour beds of salvia, alyssum and lobelia, was bright with nags...

«James Bond, with two double bourbons inside him, sat in the final departure lounge of Miami Airport and thought about life and death. It was part of his profession to kill people. He had never liked doing it and when he had to kill he did it...

«It was one of those days when it seemed to James Bond that all life, as someone put it, was nothing but a heap of six to four against. To begin with he was ashamed of himself – a rare state of mind. He had a hangover, a bad one, with...

«THERE are moments of great luxury in the life of a secret agent. There are assignments on which he is required to act the part of a very rich man; occasions when he takes refuge in good living to efface the memory of danger and the shadow...

«With its two fighting claws held forward like a wrestler’s arms the big pandinus scorpion emerged with a dry rustle from the finger-sized hole under the rock. There was a small patch of hard, flat earth outside the hole and the scorpion stood...

«Punctually at six o’clock the sun set with a last yellow flash behind the Blue Mountains, a wave of violet shadow poured down Richmond Road, and the crickets and tree frogs in the fine gardens began to zing and tinkle. Apart from...