My fan fiction attempt
BARNEYISBONDOO7
Posts: 15MI6 Agent
Here's a little piece of a story that sprung up in my head one night. Its early days but id appreciate any feedback. Thanks! 
Chapter 1
Although still shadowed partially by the earth the half moon lit Paris with an eerie glow. The black water spiralled its way under the dim lights that lined the Seine’s shallow banks at near the Tuileries Gardens.
Bond had been pursuing Cole for four days now. Robert Cole held high status in the Paris underground and owned several businesses in the city. As Bond trudged through the waist high water near the edge with silence flashes of information rushed back to him like a torrent. Cole orchestrated the assignation of two members of station P in a car bomb outside the Hôtel de Flesselles on the Rue de Sévigné. This spontaneous action was carried out through Cole who believed that certain authorities were getting too close to his illegal dealings in the past few weeks.
Paperwork from M hit Bond’s desk back in London like shockwaves just five days previous. OO7 was only back from a relaxing two week vacation consisting of swimming and gambling (among other things) in Jamaica.
He despised Cole’s timing for his murderous deed but the job was soon to be accomplished if Bond had anticipated Cole’s next movements correctly. Bond had gathered information from his old friend Mathis the day before.
“I had one of our men follow Cole a few weeks ago before this whole thing blew open. Our agent traced his movements to the same place every Wednesday night. It seems our drug dealing friend likes to liaison with a lady of the night outside the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume”
Mathis head bowed momentarily.
“The next day our man was found in several pieces by American tourists under the Eiffel Tower.”
Bond shuddered at the thought but shook it off as this was his chance to get even for Mathis. Cole would be naturally cautious now so Bond figured that he wouldn’t expect an ambush from the Seine, especially in the terrible state it is in. Scraping his way onto the bank underneath the Pont de la Concorde the menacing figure slipped through the sparse traffic on the Quai des Tuileries and vanished in the undergrowth of the gardens.
Now with perfect cover Bond crept up towards the Galerie. In a nearly all black waterproof suit supplied by Q dried amazingly quickly in the cool Parisian night air. The silenced nozzle of the PPK was now evident in the moonlight as Bond skipped over twigs and dead foliage which could potentially give away his location. OO7 figured that a car with two or more thugs would wait for Cole to do his dirty deed in front of the Galerie with Cole round the darkened alley.
He could see the building clearly now and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows purred outside the tall steps of the Galerie. Bond positioned himself behind a large Oak tree that stretched its ancient arms over the little street. Closing his eyes and quickly opening them gave Bond freedom from unnecessary thought. The faint thud was muffled by the jolt of the tyre caving in and lowering the chassis of the Mercedes.
As Bond expected a large thug emerged from the car. Only one, thought Bond, because the less people knew of Cole’s addiction to prostitution the better. OO7 held his nerve and waited patiently for a clear shot. His tension was eased by the fact that this man had no doubt played a part in the murder of dozens of people who managed to upset his boss. The moon light was dimmed a cloud passing but Bond’s sights were clear. The small recoil and the large ape collapsing were the only giveaway that a shot was fired. The entry wound was below the left eye, causing the man’s head to snap back and his torso to spin towards the concrete.
Bond calmly but purposefully walked towards the car, opened the back seat and placed the corpse there. The black comma of dark hair was slipped backwards by Bond’s sweat filled palm. The door was shut and so he proceeded towards his final target. At all costs, Bond felt that the girl must not be harmed...
Chapter 1
Although still shadowed partially by the earth the half moon lit Paris with an eerie glow. The black water spiralled its way under the dim lights that lined the Seine’s shallow banks at near the Tuileries Gardens.
Bond had been pursuing Cole for four days now. Robert Cole held high status in the Paris underground and owned several businesses in the city. As Bond trudged through the waist high water near the edge with silence flashes of information rushed back to him like a torrent. Cole orchestrated the assignation of two members of station P in a car bomb outside the Hôtel de Flesselles on the Rue de Sévigné. This spontaneous action was carried out through Cole who believed that certain authorities were getting too close to his illegal dealings in the past few weeks.
Paperwork from M hit Bond’s desk back in London like shockwaves just five days previous. OO7 was only back from a relaxing two week vacation consisting of swimming and gambling (among other things) in Jamaica.
He despised Cole’s timing for his murderous deed but the job was soon to be accomplished if Bond had anticipated Cole’s next movements correctly. Bond had gathered information from his old friend Mathis the day before.
“I had one of our men follow Cole a few weeks ago before this whole thing blew open. Our agent traced his movements to the same place every Wednesday night. It seems our drug dealing friend likes to liaison with a lady of the night outside the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume”
Mathis head bowed momentarily.
“The next day our man was found in several pieces by American tourists under the Eiffel Tower.”
Bond shuddered at the thought but shook it off as this was his chance to get even for Mathis. Cole would be naturally cautious now so Bond figured that he wouldn’t expect an ambush from the Seine, especially in the terrible state it is in. Scraping his way onto the bank underneath the Pont de la Concorde the menacing figure slipped through the sparse traffic on the Quai des Tuileries and vanished in the undergrowth of the gardens.
Now with perfect cover Bond crept up towards the Galerie. In a nearly all black waterproof suit supplied by Q dried amazingly quickly in the cool Parisian night air. The silenced nozzle of the PPK was now evident in the moonlight as Bond skipped over twigs and dead foliage which could potentially give away his location. OO7 figured that a car with two or more thugs would wait for Cole to do his dirty deed in front of the Galerie with Cole round the darkened alley.
He could see the building clearly now and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows purred outside the tall steps of the Galerie. Bond positioned himself behind a large Oak tree that stretched its ancient arms over the little street. Closing his eyes and quickly opening them gave Bond freedom from unnecessary thought. The faint thud was muffled by the jolt of the tyre caving in and lowering the chassis of the Mercedes.
As Bond expected a large thug emerged from the car. Only one, thought Bond, because the less people knew of Cole’s addiction to prostitution the better. OO7 held his nerve and waited patiently for a clear shot. His tension was eased by the fact that this man had no doubt played a part in the murder of dozens of people who managed to upset his boss. The moon light was dimmed a cloud passing but Bond’s sights were clear. The small recoil and the large ape collapsing were the only giveaway that a shot was fired. The entry wound was below the left eye, causing the man’s head to snap back and his torso to spin towards the concrete.
Bond calmly but purposefully walked towards the car, opened the back seat and placed the corpse there. The black comma of dark hair was slipped backwards by Bond’s sweat filled palm. The door was shut and so he proceeded towards his final target. At all costs, Bond felt that the girl must not be harmed...
Comments
(All I can come up with right now)
Chapter 1
Although still shadowed partially by the earth the half moon lit Paris with an eerie glow. The black water spiralled its way under the dim lights that lined the Seine’s shallow banks at near the Tuileries Gardens.
Bond had been pursuing Cole for four days now. Robert Cole held high status in the Paris underground and owned several businesses in the city. As Bond trudged through the waist high water near the edge with silence flashes of information rushed back to him like a torrent. Cole orchestrated the assignation of two members of station P in a car bomb outside the Hôtel de Flesselles on the Rue de Sévigné. This spontaneous action was carried out through Cole who believed that certain authorities were getting too close to his illegal dealings in the past few weeks.
Paperwork from M hit Bond’s desk back in London like shockwaves just five days previous. OO7 was only back from a relaxing two week vacation consisting of swimming and gambling (among other things) in Jamaica.
He despised Cole’s timing for his murderous deed but the job was soon to be accomplished if Bond had anticipated Cole’s next movements correctly. Bond had gathered information from his old friend Mathis the day before.
“I had one of our men follow Cole a few weeks ago before this whole thing blew open. Our agent traced his movements to the same place every Wednesday night. It seems our drug dealing friend likes to liaison with a lady of the night outside the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume”
Mathis head bowed momentarily.
“The next day our man was found in several pieces by American tourists under the Eiffel Tower.”
Bond shuddered at the thought but shook it off as this was his chance to get even for Mathis. Cole would be naturally cautious now so Bond figured that he wouldn’t expect an ambush from the Seine, especially in the terrible state it is in. Scraping his way onto the bank underneath the Pont de la Concorde the menacing figure slipped through the sparse traffic on the Quai des Tuileries and vanished in the undergrowth of the gardens.
Now with perfect cover Bond crept up towards the Galerie. In a nearly all black waterproof suit supplied by Q dried amazingly quickly in the cool Parisian night air. The silenced nozzle of the PPK was now evident in the moonlight as Bond skipped over twigs and dead foliage which could potentially give away his location. OO7 figured that a car with two or more thugs would wait for Cole to do his dirty deed in front of the Galerie with Cole round the darkened alley.
He could see the building clearly now and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows purred outside the tall steps of the Galerie. Bond positioned himself behind a large Oak tree that stretched its ancient arms over the little street. Closing his eyes and quickly opening them gave Bond freedom from unnecessary thought. The faint thud was muffled by the jolt of the tyre caving in and lowering the chassis of the Mercedes.
As Bond expected a large thug emerged from the car. Only one, thought Bond, because the less people knew of Cole’s addiction to prostitution the better. OO7 held his nerve and waited patiently for a clear shot. His tension was eased by the fact that this man had no doubt played a part in the murder of dozens of people who managed to upset his boss. The moon light was dimmed a cloud passing but Bond’s sights were clear. The small recoil and the large ape collapsing were the only giveaway that a shot was fired. The entry wound was below the left eye, causing the man’s head to snap back and his torso to spin towards the concrete.
Bond calmly but purposefully walked towards the car, opened the boot and placed the corpse there. The black comma of dark hair was slipped backwards by Bond’s sweat filled palm. The door was shut and so he proceeded towards his final target. At all costs, Bond felt that the girl must not be harmed. She likely knew of Cole’s riches but not of how he earned it.
Peering round the corner of the Museum alley, Bond could see shadows moving on the left. Just as he was about to dash for cover behind a recycling bin, Bond heard footsteps near the Mercedes. This was his one chance. Stooping, Bond ran heavy footed to the safety of the recycling bin’s shadow.
“What was that?” murmured Cole, releasing the woman’s left thigh to glance at the entrance. As the footsteps drew nearer, Bond prayed that his cover would not be blown by the passer by.
“VIVE LE FRANCE!!” yelled the man staggering across the alley mouth, grasping the half empty bottle with one hand and an addition of Le Monde in the other. The large paper would probably become this man’s Ritz for the night ahead thought Bond.
Relieved at the random stranger’s antics, Cole stared hungrily back at the lady’s heavily make-upped face and returned to his antics. Lurching forward from the shadows, Bond hugged the wall until he was just level with Cole’s heaving back. Bond didn’t wish to kill him outright. Merely knock him out, use the Mercedes to get to Mathis’s safe house six miles outside Paris and interrogate Cole there.
All was soon thwarted when the woman saw the menacing figure behind Cole. The scream was deafening. Cole with instinct threw the hoar into Bond’s line of fire, knocking the PPK out of his hand.
“Bitch!” murmured Bond as he flung her against the wall, her clothes laced with sweat. Cole straightened himself up. He had the advantage as he could see outlines from the light given from the road. Bond was getting to grips with the darkness. The click of the blade was evident and OO7 could see light reflecting off its polished edges. The knife swung left and ripped the air past Bond’s arm. With the danger to his right Bond forced all his weight onto the murky figure in front. Both men slammed into the ground in a rather unprofessional rugby tackle. Cole was tired from his passion only moments before. He felt Bond rising to his feet first and with one swift movement he kicked the Frenchman in the head. Hopefully with enough power to just knock him out. Bond checked the body. His trousers were undone and only a brown leather belt held the bottom of the Armani suit in place. No other weapons were on him and his breathing was shallow but evident. With most of the danger gone, Bond left the hoar in the alley and gave Cole a fireman lift to the car flopping Cole’s seemingly lifeless body in the back. Keys from the thug in the boot made the German engine purr to life as Bond kept his speed limit until he reached the outskirts of Paris.
A job well done thought Bond. The hard part was over. Now it was a matter of retrieving information from Cole. Bond needed to learn the names of Cole’s informers who told him of Station P’s awareness to his dealings. If they were sussed out in time there was a chance that they could be captured before they learnt that Cole has been caught.
The idea of a mole could never escape Bond’s mind. Thoughts of Vesper rained down on him. She had everyone fooled even Mathis. Spying was a tricky business. Never let them get too close no matter how beautiful of alluring they are.
Cole could be working for a higher power, providing valuable income that could be used for firearms and dealings on a grander scale than Parisian alley ways. Bond was at a loss as to who if any were behind the leakage of intelligence.
(feedback is most welcome. Thanks)
Chapter One
Although still shadowed partially by the earth the half moon lit Paris with an eerie glow. The black water spiralled its way under the dim lights that lined the Seine’s shallow banks near the Tuileries Gardens.
Bond had been pursuing Cole for four days now. Robert Cole held high status in the Paris underground and owned several businesses in the city. As Bond trudged through the waist high water near the edge with silence flashes of information rushed back to him like a torrent. Cole orchestrated the assignation of two members of station P in a car bomb outside the Hôtel de Flesselles on the Rue de Sévigné. This spontaneous action was carried out through Cole who believed that certain authorities were getting too close to his illegal dealings in the past few weeks.
Paperwork from M hit Bond’s desk back in London like shockwaves just five days previous. OO7 was only back from a relaxing two week vacation consisting of swimming and gambling (among other things) in Jamaica.
He despised Cole’s timing for his murderous deed but the job was soon to be accomplished if Bond had anticipated Cole’s next movements correctly. Bond had gathered information from his old friend Mathis the day before.
“I had one of our men follow Cole a few weeks ago before this whole thing blew open. We sent out best man for the job, Jacque Rosenberg. He joined us only a few years ago but in the short space of time he proved that he was more than up to the tasks given to him. He traced Cole’s movements to the same place every Wednesday night. It seems our drug dealing friend likes to liaison with a lady of the night outside the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume”
Mathis head bowed momentarily.
“The next day our man was found in several pieces by American tourists under the Eiffel Tower. All but his head was located in the separate bin liner bags. The only way we could recognise Jacque was by his passport and his birthmark on his back.”
Bond shuddered at the thought but shook it off as this was his chance to get even for Mathis loss. Cole would be naturally cautious now so Bond figured that he wouldn’t expect an ambush from the Seine, especially in the terrible state it is in. Scraping his way onto the bank underneath the Pont de la Concorde the menacing figure slipped through the sparse traffic on the Quai des Tuileries and vanished in the undergrowth of the gardens.
Now with perfect cover Bond crept up towards the Galerie. In a nearly all black waterproof suit supplied by Q dried amazingly quickly in the cool Parisian night air. The silenced nozzle of the PPK was now evident in the moonlight as Bond skipped over twigs and dead foliage which could potentially give away his location. OO7 figured that a car with two or more thugs would wait for Cole to do his dirty deed in front of the Galerie with Cole round the darkened alley.
He could see the building clearly now and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows purred outside the tall steps of the Galerie. Bond positioned himself behind a large Oak tree that stretched its ancient arms over the little street. Closing his eyes and quickly opening them gave Bond freedom from unnecessary thought. The faint thud was muffled by the jolt of the tyre caving in and lowering the chassis of the Mercedes.
As Bond expected a large thug emerged from the car. Only one, thought Bond, because the less people knew of Cole’s addiction to prostitution the better. OO7 held his nerve and waited patiently for a clear shot. His tension was eased by the fact that this man had no doubt played a part in the murder of dozens of people who managed to upset his boss. The moon light was dimmed by a cloud passing but Bond’s sights were clear. The small recoil and the large ape collapsing were the only giveaway that a shot was fired. The entry wound was below the left eye, causing the man’s head to snap back and his torso to spin towards the concrete.
Bond calmly but purposefully walked towards the car, opened the boot and placed the corpse there. The black comma of dark hair was slipped backwards by Bond’s sweat filled palm. The door was shut and so he proceeded towards his final target. At all costs, Bond felt that the girl must not be harmed. She likely knew of Cole’s riches but not of how he earned it.
Peering round the corner of the Museum alley, Bond could see shadows moving on the left. Just as he was about to dash for cover behind a recycling bin, Bond heard footsteps near the Mercedes. This was his one chance. Stooping, Bond ran heavy footed to the safety of the recycling bin’s shadow.
“What was that?” murmured Cole, releasing the woman’s left thigh to glance at the entrance. As the footsteps drew nearer, Bond prayed that his cover would not be blown by the passer by.
“VIVE LA FRANCE!!” yelled the man staggering across the alley mouth, grasping the half empty bottle with one hand and an addition of Le Monde in the other. The large paper would probably become this man’s Ritz for the night ahead thought Bond.
Relieved at the random stranger’s antics, Cole stared hungrily back at the lady’s heavily make-upped face and returned to his antics. Lurching forward from the shadows, Bond hugged the wall until he was just level with Cole’s heaving back. Bond didn’t wish to kill him outright. Merely knock him out, use the Mercedes to get to Mathis’s safe house sixty six miles outside the small town of Bitry and interrogate Cole there.
All was soon thwarted when the woman saw the menacing figure behind Cole. The scream was deafening. Cole with instinct threw the hoar into Bond’s line of fire, knocking the PPK out of his hand.
“Bitch!” murmured Bond as he flung her against the wall, her clothes laced with sweat. Cole straightened himself up. He had the advantage as he could see outlines from the lit alley entrance. Bond was getting to grips with the darkness. The click of the blade was evident and OO7 could see light reflecting off its polished edges. The knife swung left and ripped the air past Bond’s arm. With the danger to his right Bond forced all his weight onto the murky figure in front. Both men slammed into the ground in a rather unprofessional rugby tackle. Cole was tired from his passion only moments before. He felt Bond rising to his feet first and with one swift movement he kicked the Frenchman in the head. Hopefully with enough power to just knock him out. Bond checked the body. His trousers were undone and only a brown leather belt held the bottom of the Armani suit in place. No other weapons were on him and his breathing was shallow but evident. With most of the danger gone, Bond left the hoar in the alley and gave Cole a fireman lift to the car flopping Cole’s seemingly lifeless body in the back. Keys from the thug in the boot made the German engine purr to life as Bond kept his speed limit until he reached the outskirts of Paris.
A job well done thought Bond. The hard part was over. Now it was a matter of retrieving information from Cole. Bond needed to learn the names of Cole’s informers who told him of Station P’s awareness to his dealings. If they were sussed out in time there was a chance that they could be captured before they learnt that Cole has been caught.
The idea of a mole could never escape Bond’s mind. Thoughts of Vesper rained down on him. She had everyone fooled, even Mathis. Spying was a tricky business. Never let them get too close no matter how beautiful of alluring they are.
Cole could not be working for a higher power, thought Bond. Although providing valuable income that could be used for firearms and dealings on a grander scale than Parisian alleyways crossed his mind as slightly plausible. Cole was too arrogant and self centred to receive orders from anyone else except him.
The winding French roads calmed Bond’s nerves and tension. The hour and a half drive was over very quickly as dulled emotions and thoughts about what lied ahead grew stronger. The Mercedes’ headlights pulled up to the cast iron electric gates. The grey speaker gave a faint hiss as Bond pulled down his window. A deep French voice inquired who it was in bad English. Reluctantly tearing his cigarette from his cruel mouth Bond eventually replied.
“Bond, James Bond. I have a present for Mathis, all nicely gift rapped for him.” OO7 peered at the back seat looking at Cole with his arms now bound behind his back and his feet clamped together. Without a reply the gates whined open slowly. The safe house was elegant in the early morning light. It was only now when Bond stepped out of the car that he felt cold air rushing into his waterproof gear. Cole must have been closer to his arm with that knife than he thought. The skin was not broken. Sorry Cole, thought Bond, close but no cigar!
With the reflection of seeing Mathis’ warm face light up seeing Cole in this state, Bond was in a euphoric mood. Another mission accomplished with considerable ease never amused M however. The stone like never showed any sign of cracking.
Bond thought it strange that Mathis did not greet him when he opened the large Oak doors, dragging Cole behind him. Something didn’t feel right. He captured his surroundings in the large hall. Several large chandeliers loomed overhead. The ancient staircase twisted round the great hall eventually giving one access to the second and third floors. Setting Cole down on the creaky wooden floor face down, Bond proceeded into the centre of the hall where a small round wooden table held a vase of flowers that illuminated bright orange amidst the ageing surroundings of the safe house. The PPK now silence free was by his side ready for what lied ahead. But nothing not even years of experience in the line of fire, could prepare Bond to the horror that lay ahead.
Chapter Two
The bloodied corpse of Mathis dangled from the safety beam right at the very top of the great hall. Naked and blue with strangulation the expression on the face was one of complete and utter terror. Bond felt weak at the knees. Not knowing what lurked in the shadows. A gloved hand from behind the swaying body dropped something and drifted its way to the pale wooden floor in front of Bond. It was Mathis’ clothes. Bond wanted to grieve for his friend. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. The French voice from the behind him blocked Bond from doing so.
“Drop it scum. Any funny movements and you join your companion.” Bond obliged, turning round to face his new sworn enemy. The tall thin man with muscular shoulders cut Cole’s ropes free. Piercing green eyes dominated his face and the small venomous mouth opened slightly as he aided Cole to his feet. By this stage the gloved man from the stairs had joined Cole.
“Bring me his gun.” snapped the shaken boss. The thin man scooped up the PPK, emptied the clip and handed it to Cole. “Merci Jacque.”
“Jacque Rosenberg?” murmured Bond "You *******. You betrayed Mathis!” OO7 felt his fists clenching tighter and tighter, the whites of his knuckles showing. “Why?”
The trio began to laugh. Jacque began an answer to the obvious question but Cole interrupted.
“You see Mr. Bond I hold all the cards in Paris. Jacque is an assassin, a brilliant one at that. He had no life before I found him. I trained him, groomed him. Jacque became my best and most obedient employee because before me, he had nothing. To him I am God!” Cole chuckled to himself. Bond stared at the devious ******* who killed Mathis. He did not seem to disagree with anything Cole had to say.
“A few years ago it occurred to me that I needed someone to keep certain organisations off my back. That is why I saw to it that Mr. Rosenberg was planted right where he could keep an eye on the law.”
“So you killed an innocent man and set him up to appear it was Jacque’s body under the Eiffel tower. No wonder you kept the head.” Bond tried to control his anger.
Mathis ignored OO7’s words. “It did not occur to me that retaliation would be so swift or that the British would be involved. It was stupid for you to help your friend in need.” The gloved man spoke up.
“Jacque traced a call from Mathis to here. We got all the information we needed from him before his number was up. We just sat tight until you came home with the ‘gift’.” The man smiled grimly at his addition to the conversation. Bond’s attention turned to the ruthless killer.
“What’s the matter Rosenberg, cat got your tongue? Why don’t you speak for yourself instead of these pussies doing it for you?” Cole, outraged, ran and thudded Bond in the stomach with a swift and powerful blow. Bond dropped to his knees clasping for breath.
“He answers to me! And me alone! Take Mr. Bond up to see his friend Jacque. I’m sure he is dying to see the best view of the house from the balcony.” Bond lunged with all his strength at Cole but even alone Rosenberg could hold him back. Giving up the fight he let the two men escort him up the creaking staircase.
“Oh and Commander…” Cole called up to them in a gleeful tone “…I think it is fair to say that the hunted has become the hunter. Farewell Bond.”
Have you considered using the edit function for polishing and revising your work?It might save you valuable time and decrease any chances of writer's block.
Just a thought...
Hi Barney.
Above your post to the right of your name and your icon, you'll see three small grey blocks.The first block reading from the left of the screen to the right immediately following the post number is your EDIT key(There's a small image of a piece of paper with a pencil poised over it beside the word "edit").
After you've written and posted your work, you can then--if you so desire(to correct a word that was spelled incorrectly,for example)--click your mouse on the EDIT key.
This will open that particular post to you and you'll then be able to revise and polish what you previously wrote.Once you've made your changes click on the POST key--which will now read,"EDIT POST".
All done.;)
Give the EDIT key try--see if it works.It should--everybody here edits their posts in this fashion.
Hope this helps....:)
Felt good. Although i feel that when i want to write a another good chunk of my story, it needs to be on word where i can see it better. eyes aint what they used to be! lol
thanks again!
Although still shadowed partially by the earth the half moon lit Paris with an eerie glow. The black water spiralled its way under the dim lights that lined the Seine’s shallow banks near the Tuileries Gardens.
Bond had been pursuing Cole for four days now. Robert Cole held high status in the Paris underground and owned several businesses in the city. As Bond trudged through the waist high water near the edge with silence flashes of information rushed back to him like a torrent. Cole orchestrated the assignation of two members of station P in a car bomb outside the Hôtel de Flesselles on the Rue de Sévigné. This spontaneous action was carried out through Cole who believed that certain authorities were getting too close to his illegal dealings in the past few weeks.
Paperwork from M hit Bond’s desk back in London like shockwaves just five days previous. OO7 was only back from a relaxing two week vacation consisting of swimming and gambling (among other things) in Jamaica.
He despised Cole’s timing for his murderous deed but the job was soon to be accomplished if Bond had anticipated Cole’s next movements correctly. Bond had gathered information from his old friend Mathis the day before.
“I had one of our men follow Cole a few weeks ago before this whole thing blew open. We sent out best man for the job, Jacque Rosenberg. He joined us only a few years ago but in the short space of time he proved that he was more than up to the tasks given to him. He traced Cole’s movements to the same place every Wednesday night. It seems our drug dealing friend likes to liaison with a lady of the night outside the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume”
Mathis head bowed momentarily.
“The next day our man was found in several pieces by American tourists under the Eiffel Tower. All but his head was located in the separate bin liner bags. The only way we could recognise Jacque was by his passport and his birthmark on his back.”
Bond shuddered at the thought but shook it off as this was his chance to get even for Mathis loss. Cole would be naturally cautious now so Bond figured that he wouldn’t expect an ambush from the Seine, especially in the terrible state it is in. Scraping his way onto the bank underneath the Pont de la Concorde the menacing figure slipped through the sparse traffic on the Quai des Tuileries and vanished in the undergrowth of the gardens.
Now with perfect cover Bond crept up towards the Galerie. In a nearly all black waterproof suit supplied by Q dried amazingly quickly in the cool Parisian night air. The silenced nozzle of the PPK was now evident in the moonlight as Bond skipped over twigs and dead foliage which could potentially give away his location. OO7 figured that a car with two or more thugs would wait for Cole to do his dirty deed in front of the Galerie with Cole round the darkened alley.
He could see the building clearly now and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows purred outside the tall steps of the Galerie. Bond positioned himself behind a large Oak tree that stretched its ancient arms over the little street. Closing his eyes and quickly opening them gave Bond freedom from unnecessary thought. The faint thud was muffled by the jolt of the tyre caving in and lowering the chassis of the Mercedes.
As Bond expected a large thug emerged from the car. Only one, thought Bond, because the less people knew of Cole’s addiction to prostitution the better. OO7 held his nerve and waited patiently for a clear shot. His tension was eased by the fact that this man had no doubt played a part in the murder of dozens of people who managed to upset his boss. The moon light was dimmed by a cloud passing but Bond’s sights were clear. The small recoil and the large ape collapsing were the only giveaway that a shot was fired. The entry wound was below the left eye, causing the man’s head to snap back and his torso to spin towards the concrete.
Bond calmly but purposefully walked towards the car, opened the boot and placed the limp gorilla-like body there. The black comma of dark hair was slipped backwards by Bond’s sweat filled palm. The door was shut and so he proceeded towards his final target. At all costs, Bond felt that the girl must not be harmed. She likely knew of Cole’s riches but not of how he earned it.
Peering round the corner of the Museum alley, Bond could see shadows moving on the left. Just as he was about to dash for cover behind a recycling bin, Bond heard footsteps near the Mercedes. This was his one chance. Stooping, Bond ran heavy footed to the safety of the recycling bin’s shadow.
“What was that?” murmured Cole, releasing the woman’s left thigh to glance at the entrance. As the footsteps drew nearer, Bond prayed that his cover would not be blown by the passer by.
“VIVE LA FRANCE!!” yelled the man staggering across the alley mouth, grasping the half empty bottle with one hand and an addition of Le Monde in the other. The large paper would probably become this man’s Ritz for the night ahead thought Bond.
Relieved at the random stranger’s antics, Cole stared hungrily back at the lady’s heavily make-upped face and returned to his antics. Lurching forward from the shadows, Bond hugged the wall until he was just level with Cole’s heaving back. Bond didn’t wish to kill him outright. Merely knock him out, use the Mercedes to get to Mathis’s safe house sixty six miles outside the small town of Bitry and interrogate Cole there.
All was soon thwarted when the woman saw the menacing figure behind Cole. The scream was deafening. Cole with instinct threw the hoar into Bond’s line of fire, knocking the PPK out of his hand.
“Bitch!” murmured Bond as he flung her against the wall, her clothes laced with sweat. Cole straightened himself up. He had the advantage as he could see outlines from the lit alley entrance. Bond was getting to grips with the darkness. The click of the blade was evident and OO7 could see light reflecting off its polished edges. The knife swung left and ripped the air past Bond’s arm. With the danger to his right Bond forced all his weight onto the murky figure in front. Both men slammed into the ground in a rather unprofessional rugby tackle. Cole was tired from his passion only moments before. He felt Bond rising to his feet first and with one swift movement he kicked the Frenchman in the head. Hopefully with enough power to just knock him out. Bond checked the body. His trousers were undone and only a brown leather belt held the bottom of the Armani suit in place. No other weapons were on him and his breathing was shallow but evident. With most of the danger gone, Bond left the hoar in the alley and gave Cole a fireman lift to the car flopping Cole’s seemingly lifeless body in the back. Keys from the thug in the boot made the German engine purr to life as Bond kept his speed limit until he reached the outskirts of Paris.
A job well done thought Bond. The hard part was over. Now it was a matter of retrieving information from Cole. Bond needed to learn the names of Cole’s informers who told him of Station P’s awareness to his dealings. If they were sussed out in time there was a chance that they could be captured before they learnt that Cole has been caught.
The idea of a mole could never escape Bond’s mind. Thoughts of Vesper rained down on him. She had everyone fooled, even Mathis. Spying was a tricky business. Never let them get too close no matter how beautiful of alluring they are.
Cole could not be working for a higher power, thought Bond. Although providing valuable income that could be used for firearms and dealings on a grander scale than Parisian alleyways crossed his mind as slightly plausible. Cole was too arrogant and self centred to receive orders from anyone else except him.
The winding French roads calmed Bond’s nerves and tension. The hour and a half drive was over very quickly as dulled emotions and thoughts about what lied ahead grew stronger. The Mercedes’ headlights pulled up to the cast iron electric gates. The grey speaker gave a faint hiss as Bond pulled down his window. A deep French voice inquired who it was in bad English. Reluctantly tearing his cigarette from his cruel mouth Bond eventually replied.
“Bond, James Bond. I have a present for Mathis, all nicely gift rapped for him.” OO7 peered at the back seat looking at Cole with his arms now bound behind his back and his feet clamped together. Without a reply the gates whined open slowly. The safe house was elegant in the early morning light. It was only now when Bond stepped out of the car that he felt cold air rushing into his waterproof gear. Cole must have been closer to his arm with that knife than he thought. The skin was not broken. Sorry Cole, thought Bond, close but no cigar!
With the reflection of seeing Mathis’ warm face light up seeing Cole in this state, Bond was in a euphoric mood. Another mission accomplished with considerable ease never amused M however. The stone like never showed any sign of cracking.
Bond thought it strange that Mathis did not greet him when he opened the large Oak doors, dragging Cole behind him. Something didn’t feel right. He captured his surroundings in the large hall. Several large chandeliers loomed overhead. The ancient staircase twisted round the great hall eventually giving one access to the second and third floors. Setting Cole down on the creaky wooden floor face down, Bond proceeded into the centre of the hall where a small round wooden table held a vase of flowers that illuminated bright orange amidst the ageing surroundings of the safe house. The PPK now silence free was by his side ready for what lied ahead. But nothing not even years of experience in the line of fire, could prepare Bond to the horror that lay ahead.
Chapter Two
The bloodied corpse of Mathis dangled from the safety beam right at the very top of the great hall. Naked and blue with strangulation the expression on the face was one of complete and utter terror. Bond felt weak at the knees. Not knowing what lurked in the shadows. A gloved hand from behind the swaying body dropped something and drifted its way to the pale wooden floor in front of Bond. It was Mathis’ clothes. Bond wanted to grief for his friend. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. The French voice from the behind him blocked Bond from doing so.
“Drop it scum. Any funny movements and you join your companion.” Bond obliged, turning round to face his new sworn enemy. The tall thin man with muscular shoulders cut Cole’s ropes free. Piercing green eyes dominated his face and the small venomous mouth opened slightly as he aided Cole to his feet. By this stage the gloved man from the stairs had joined Cole.
“Bring me his gun.” snapped the shaken boss. The thin man scooped up the PPK, emptied the clip and handed it to Cole. “Merci Jacque.”
“Jacque Rosenberg?” murmured Bond "You *******. You betrayed Mathis!” OO7 felt his fists clenching tighter and tighter, the whites of his knuckles showing. “Why?”
The trio began to laugh. Jacque began an answer to the obvious question but Cole interrupted.
“You see Mr. Bond I hold all the cards in Paris. Jacque is an assassin, a brilliant one at that. He had no life before I found him. I trained him, groomed him. Jacque became my best and most obedient employee because before me, he had nothing.” Cole grasped his now untied wrists. “To him I am God!” Cole chuckled to himself. Bond stared at the devious ******* who killed Mathis. He did not seem to disagree with anything Cole had to say.
“A few years ago it occurred to me that I needed someone to keep certain organisations off my back. That is why I saw to it that Mr. Rosenberg was planted right where he could keep an eye on the law.”
“So you killed an innocent man and set him up to appear it was Jacque’s body under the Eiffel tower. No wonder you kept the head.” Bond tried to control his anger.
Cole ignored OO7’s words. “It did not occur to me that retaliation would be so swift or that the British would be involved. It was stupid for you to help your friend in need.” The gloved man spoke up.
“Jacque traced a call from Mathis to here. We got all the information we needed from him before his number was up. We just sat tight until you came home with the ‘gift’.” The man smiled grimly at his addition to the conversation. Bond’s attention turned to the ruthless killer.
“What’s the matter Rosenberg, cat got your tongue? Why don’t you speak for yourself instead of these pussies doing it for you?” Cole, outraged, ran and thudded Bond in the stomach with a swift and powerful blow. Bond dropped to his knees clasping for breath.
“He answers to me! And me alone! Take Mr. Bond up to see his friend Jacque. I’m sure he is dying to see the best view of the house from the balcony.” Bond lunged with all his strength at Cole but even alone Rosenberg could hold him back. Giving up the fight he let the two men escort him up the creaking staircase.
“Oh and Commander…” Cole called up to them in a gleeful tone “…I think it is fair to say that the hunted has become the hunter. Farewell Bond. Oh Rosenberg I need you to come back with me. I’m sure Pierre knows what to do.”
Pierre nodded. Finally a bit of luck on Bond’s terms. He knew by the force of Rosenberg’s restraint that he could not possibly find a solution to his predicament. Pierre as he was now known was the weakest link and so Bond rested all his hopes on the gloved man’s eagerness to impress his boss Cole.
The muffled chatter between the top men dimmed as they left the hall and into the Mercedes. Pierre nudged Bond upwards towards Mathis’ dangling body, OO7’s hands in the air. Bond talked on the way up with the cold nozzle of the Smith and Wesson between his shoulder blades.
“Nice chap your boss. He seems to really know how to control you and Jacque.”
“I take orders from one person. Me!” Pierre’s face contorted with power. Cole’s absence filled the stout man with responsibility and greed. Bond had judged his personality correctly. All small people especially men, have a short fuse. A low self esteem has that affect. Along with a quickened reaction to anger there is a desire to feel supreme in a situation. Some of the most powerful men in history where lacking height. Napoleon and Genghis Khan for instance.
Pierre continued his rant. “Cole is sluggish in his manner of things. He needed me and Jacque to tidy up his loose end tonight.”
Bond turned to face him. “You wouldn’t have said that if Cole was here. You are petrified of him. I can tell. I would have thought more of you Pierre.” The best way to take down an opponent like this who has the best hand is to get personal almost friendly with them.
The fat man’s face reddened with rage. The gun was swiftly turned round in one hand and the butt hit Bond square on the forehead. OO7 was amazed by the speed with which it was executed. Pierre climbed the stairs to the first level so he was facing down on the English spy a few steps below. Bond attempted at raising himself from his vulnerable point on the floor. The gun clicked.
“Hold it right there you *******. I am not afraid of anyone, you, Rosenberg or Cole. I am the brains of our little upcoming scheme and it is a shame that you will not live to see another day in your ‘free’ world!”
Bond began to laugh, knowing that this would spark a reaction.
“Stop laughing you fool. You are to end up like your friend the mockery of a French man he was. Easily subjected to fear and showed every ounce of pain on his ugly face as we tortured him in his dying moments! Look at him Bond. You will soon be as helpless as he is.”
With words still coming from his saliva filled mouth Pierre aimed and shot towards Mathis. The rope snapped violently and the lifeless body fell awkwardly to the great hall floor. Without taking what happened in, Bond spotted his chance. With both palms he scooped Pierre’s ankles towards him sending him and the gun to the stairs. Bond pounced on him like a tiger and clasped his hands round the fat filled throat. Before Bond had a proper grip Pierre lunged all his body weight upwards, sending the two men to fall down the steep creaky stairs. The corners of the steps felt like daggers where being screwed into Bond’s back. Once at the bottom, Bond looked towards Pierre and stood up with his fists raised. Astonished that the little man did not rise, OO7 cautiously approached him. His neck seemed to be snapped horribly out of shape.
“Just don’t get any taller.” The glib remark had no affect.
Bond then saw behind him the twisted body of his old friend. Kneeling down beside him, he traced his thoughts back to when he has lost so many loved ones. Tracey Bond, Felix’s wife Della, and now Mathis were never to be apart in this world.
How many more?
Bond carefully placed Mathis’s blood stained clothes over the staring face and mangled body.
“Sleep well my friend.” The remark had no affect.
it would be hard to go back to it after so long