hackettOdds change the numbers remainPosts: 197MI6 Agent
Epilogue
The news reporter who had stood resoundingly outside number 10 Downing Street for two hours after the rest of the media circus had gone; was still hopeful for news on the death of Ben Tolliver.
He had a long standing understanding with a Government Minister close to the PM; and a cryptic message left on his mobile that evening led him to believe news could still break tonight.
But time was marching on; his chin rubbed against the damp material of his scarf, which was pulled tight in an attempt to stave off the biting cold wind. He stamped his feet, in a vain attempt to restore the circulation.
There had been extensive coverage of the disaster in the Czech Republic, but the involvement of the First secretary had added mystery and intrigue; and the British public demanded answers.
The Americans had abandoned their attack on Iran; and the World had breathed a sigh of relief.
But in the corridors of power, the involvement of Tolliver, led to the conspiracy theories beginning to take on more substance as the hours ticked by.
Big Ben had struck 1 am, when the famous door opened, and a man emerged; he gathered his coat about him and walked swiftly over to the reporter.
They met and spoke briefly, and a single piece of paper was handed over.
The reporter read the script; his spirits plummeted; then the real news item, or at least the item the Government wanted promoting, unfolded in front of him.
He gathered his crew about him. He decided to make a brief statement then head back to the office to research the golden information he had been given.
The excitement began to mount, and the cold wind seemed to drop; with luck, this exclusive would make him a household name all over again.
His large BBC umbrella had been taken away moments before, and now he stood watching his cameraman counting down for his introduction. The earpiece buzzed and the communication began…
“The terrorist attack in Kutná Hora has, to date claimed the lives of over 10,000 people; amongst that number, our very own First Secretary Ben Tolliver. From an exclusive statement issued by the Prime Minister, I can now reveal why Lord Tolliver was in the Czech Republic during this catastrophe.
Lord Tolliver was directly involved in negotiating with the terrorists; it was thought that the First secretary was on the verge of a breakthrough when the bomb detonated.
What we have just learned is that the head of the SIS was also killed in the same explosion. Although the officer’s name is secret, I can confirm that the family have been informed” he paused for dramatic effect.
A look of hope crossed his face “The Prime Minister, has therefore given me, the following information” He held up the letter
“This statement confirms the appointment, of a new director of the MI6” he carefully used both titles for the department to ensure the maximum number of people understood the position.
***
Extract from the BBC News website the following day.
***
New head of SIS. Sir Richard “John” Green KCMG OBE.
The Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) is responsible for supplying the British Government with foreign intelligence. It is often referred to in the media and popular parlance by the name MI6.
Alongside the internal Security Service (MI5),
the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ)
and the Defence Intelligence Staff (DIS), it operates under the formal direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC).
SIS is referred to colloquially within the Civil Service as Box 850,
after its old MI6 post office box number.
Its existence, or indeed that of its sister organizations,
was not officially acknowledged in public until 1994.
Its headquarters, since 1995, is at Vauxhall Cross on the South Bank of the Thames.
Sir John was born in Belfast and studied law at Queens University where he obtained a first-class degree.
Sir John was recruited into the service in 1980 after a successful consulate position in Hungry. A fluent Russian speaker, his early career saw him serve in Nairobi, Moscow, and Paris.
He went on to be in charge of Britain's station in Moscow.
Sir John sat on the JIC during the Iraq conflict 2001 to 2003.
He is married with two daughters and a son.
He lists his interests in Who's Who as Law, medieval churches and the bridges of Isamard Kingdom Brunel.
***
“Riveting” said Bond in frustration, as he logged off from the website.
Since his promotion to the Double 0 section he had always thought he would be dead long before he got a new boss.
Now the future was uncertain; after his blatant disregard for the service, he wondered whether he would be dismissed from his position.
Bond contemplated, and then quickly dismissed the idea, that maybe this could be the end of the section altogether; and he would be returned to normal duties.
He shuddered at the thought.
His M was now gone; all hail the new M.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.
Bond walked over to the window; light grey fingers of sky stretched out beyond the darker clouds that hung over the city.
Preoccupation with the weather was a British institution which, unless you were going sailing was lost on Bond.
He looked out over the marina.
The yachts and motor cruisers lay at rest, moored in a safe haven close to Tower Bridge.
This was as close to his idea of home as he had ever had; but it could all be gone, almost before he had settled in. The 19th century merchant’s warehouse had been converted into luxury apartments at the turn of the 2oth century; but Bond’s possessions had only moved in along with a, Monepenny procured modern design leather suite; and two Jack Vettriano prints shortly after his promotion to the double 0 section.
The furniture wasn’t to his taste but the central location, and dinning amenities were to his liking, especially The Prospect of Whitby; which given the chance would become Bond’s local, as opposed to the more contemporary Dickens Inn.
Rain drops slithered down the window. Bond watched as two people emerged from Starbucks, they put up their umbrellas and hurried about their business;
the city was coming to life.
Bond’s mobile rang; it was Tanner.
“Morning 007”
“Morning Bill; am I summoned”
Tanner chuckled “No, the new man hasn’t arrived yet” He cleared his throat, his tone became softer “I spoke to our Mother yesterday, she is most impressed with her obituary”
“Good” Bond sighed “They decided not to use my piece then?”
Tanner laughed “No James; it would appear the British public are to be spared your thoughts”
“I trust she explained my motives behind the Bombshell investigation?”
Tanner took the sting out of the question “Yes, intelligence agencies all over the world are lining up to present you with their awards”
“Ok, all’s well that end’s well then. So, what’s happening with the Bombshell intelligence?”
Tanner took a sharp intake of breath “This is the secret service 007”
“So, Tolliver got his wish” Bond’s tone was hard
“Not exactly, he won’t be vilified, but we’ve not going to make him a saint. Anyway we stopped the Russian invasion; and the bankers are beginning to get their act together again”
“Bankers indeed” Bond felt low; perhaps they were the real villains in all this.
Tanner changed the subject “Got a little job for you; one of our agents needs extracting from an undercover job”
The laptop pinged at his side. Bond reached out and opened the communication.
A photograph appeared on his screen.
Bond looked at the face.
She looked young to be doing undercover work; but Bond took in her features, instantly memorising her face.
The picture highlighted her eyes ‘windows to the soul’ he mused; well this one certainly looked very spirited. Bond pronounced her very attractive, and worthy of an assisted extraction.
“What’s her name?”
Tanner laughed; he knew how Bond’s mind worked
“That’s a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you, 007?”
“To the grave Bill, to the grave”
Tanner became serious again
“Let’s just say this is called Operation Goodnight”
Comments
Epilogue
The news reporter who had stood resoundingly outside number 10 Downing Street for two hours after the rest of the media circus had gone; was still hopeful for news on the death of Ben Tolliver.
He had a long standing understanding with a Government Minister close to the PM; and a cryptic message left on his mobile that evening led him to believe news could still break tonight.
But time was marching on; his chin rubbed against the damp material of his scarf, which was pulled tight in an attempt to stave off the biting cold wind. He stamped his feet, in a vain attempt to restore the circulation.
There had been extensive coverage of the disaster in the Czech Republic, but the involvement of the First secretary had added mystery and intrigue; and the British public demanded answers.
The Americans had abandoned their attack on Iran; and the World had breathed a sigh of relief.
But in the corridors of power, the involvement of Tolliver, led to the conspiracy theories beginning to take on more substance as the hours ticked by.
Big Ben had struck 1 am, when the famous door opened, and a man emerged; he gathered his coat about him and walked swiftly over to the reporter.
They met and spoke briefly, and a single piece of paper was handed over.
The reporter read the script; his spirits plummeted; then the real news item, or at least the item the Government wanted promoting, unfolded in front of him.
He gathered his crew about him. He decided to make a brief statement then head back to the office to research the golden information he had been given.
The excitement began to mount, and the cold wind seemed to drop; with luck, this exclusive would make him a household name all over again.
His large BBC umbrella had been taken away moments before, and now he stood watching his cameraman counting down for his introduction. The earpiece buzzed and the communication began…
“The terrorist attack in Kutná Hora has, to date claimed the lives of over 10,000 people; amongst that number, our very own First Secretary Ben Tolliver. From an exclusive statement issued by the Prime Minister, I can now reveal why Lord Tolliver was in the Czech Republic during this catastrophe.
Lord Tolliver was directly involved in negotiating with the terrorists; it was thought that the First secretary was on the verge of a breakthrough when the bomb detonated.
What we have just learned is that the head of the SIS was also killed in the same explosion. Although the officer’s name is secret, I can confirm that the family have been informed” he paused for dramatic effect.
A look of hope crossed his face “The Prime Minister, has therefore given me, the following information” He held up the letter
“This statement confirms the appointment, of a new director of the MI6” he carefully used both titles for the department to ensure the maximum number of people understood the position.
***
Extract from the BBC News website the following day.
***
New head of SIS. Sir Richard “John” Green KCMG OBE.
The Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) is responsible for supplying the British Government with foreign intelligence. It is often referred to in the media and popular parlance by the name MI6.
Alongside the internal Security Service (MI5),
the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ)
and the Defence Intelligence Staff (DIS), it operates under the formal direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC).
SIS is referred to colloquially within the Civil Service as Box 850,
after its old MI6 post office box number.
Its existence, or indeed that of its sister organizations,
was not officially acknowledged in public until 1994.
Its headquarters, since 1995, is at Vauxhall Cross on the South Bank of the Thames.
Sir John was born in Belfast and studied law at Queens University where he obtained a first-class degree.
Sir John was recruited into the service in 1980 after a successful consulate position in Hungry. A fluent Russian speaker, his early career saw him serve in Nairobi, Moscow, and Paris.
He went on to be in charge of Britain's station in Moscow.
Sir John sat on the JIC during the Iraq conflict 2001 to 2003.
He is married with two daughters and a son.
He lists his interests in Who's Who as Law, medieval churches and the bridges of Isamard Kingdom Brunel.
***
“Riveting” said Bond in frustration, as he logged off from the website.
Since his promotion to the Double 0 section he had always thought he would be dead long before he got a new boss.
Now the future was uncertain; after his blatant disregard for the service, he wondered whether he would be dismissed from his position.
Bond contemplated, and then quickly dismissed the idea, that maybe this could be the end of the section altogether; and he would be returned to normal duties.
He shuddered at the thought.
His M was now gone; all hail the new M.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.
Bond walked over to the window; light grey fingers of sky stretched out beyond the darker clouds that hung over the city.
Preoccupation with the weather was a British institution which, unless you were going sailing was lost on Bond.
He looked out over the marina.
The yachts and motor cruisers lay at rest, moored in a safe haven close to Tower Bridge.
This was as close to his idea of home as he had ever had; but it could all be gone, almost before he had settled in. The 19th century merchant’s warehouse had been converted into luxury apartments at the turn of the 2oth century; but Bond’s possessions had only moved in along with a, Monepenny procured modern design leather suite; and two Jack Vettriano prints shortly after his promotion to the double 0 section.
The furniture wasn’t to his taste but the central location, and dinning amenities were to his liking, especially The Prospect of Whitby; which given the chance would become Bond’s local, as opposed to the more contemporary Dickens Inn.
Rain drops slithered down the window. Bond watched as two people emerged from Starbucks, they put up their umbrellas and hurried about their business;
the city was coming to life.
Bond’s mobile rang; it was Tanner.
“Morning 007”
“Morning Bill; am I summoned”
Tanner chuckled “No, the new man hasn’t arrived yet” He cleared his throat, his tone became softer “I spoke to our Mother yesterday, she is most impressed with her obituary”
“Good” Bond sighed “They decided not to use my piece then?”
Tanner laughed “No James; it would appear the British public are to be spared your thoughts”
“I trust she explained my motives behind the Bombshell investigation?”
Tanner took the sting out of the question “Yes, intelligence agencies all over the world are lining up to present you with their awards”
“Ok, all’s well that end’s well then. So, what’s happening with the Bombshell intelligence?”
Tanner took a sharp intake of breath “This is the secret service 007”
“So, Tolliver got his wish” Bond’s tone was hard
“Not exactly, he won’t be vilified, but we’ve not going to make him a saint. Anyway we stopped the Russian invasion; and the bankers are beginning to get their act together again”
“Bankers indeed” Bond felt low; perhaps they were the real villains in all this.
Tanner changed the subject “Got a little job for you; one of our agents needs extracting from an undercover job”
The laptop pinged at his side. Bond reached out and opened the communication.
A photograph appeared on his screen.
Bond looked at the face.
She looked young to be doing undercover work; but Bond took in her features, instantly memorising her face.
The picture highlighted her eyes ‘windows to the soul’ he mused; well this one certainly looked very spirited. Bond pronounced her very attractive, and worthy of an assisted extraction.
“What’s her name?”
Tanner laughed; he knew how Bond’s mind worked
“That’s a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you, 007?”
“To the grave Bill, to the grave”
Tanner became serious again
“Let’s just say this is called Operation Goodnight”
James Bond was back in business.
James Bond……will return in
A SECRET TO THE GRAVE
an alternate time line follow on from Casino Royale