hackettOdds change the numbers remainPosts: 197MI6 Agent
Chapter Twenty Nine
The good Doctor.
Tripoli, Libya. The final day of operation Rotunda.
“James help…” She swung gently below him. The cold air came up from the pit to cool the sweat on his skin.
“…It’s okay just hold on”
“James I can’t”
“Yes you can” His smile was reassuring
“Juliet, can you throw the case up?” Bond spoke with determination.
“What?”
“The case is weighing you down; throw it up”
She realised she was still holding the case
“I’ll just drop it…” her hand began to relax
“….No” Bond was firm. Juliet looked up at him.
Juliet grunted with the effort. She began to swing the case.
“That’s it” Bond encouraged her. His voice did not betray the strain on his arms, he had reached breaking point himself; but still he held on.
Juliet looked up her eyes were wide with fear. Her smile was tainted with tears. Her scream was primal and heart-felt as she swung the attaché case over arm. Bond watched it turn end over end as it travelled past him; he was helpless to help it on its way. For long moments it hung in the air. Then he heard it clatter on the floor. Bond looked up, one corner protruded over the edge. He watched helpless as more and more of the case slid over the lip of the pit. Then it stopped. A nervous single breathy laugh emitted from his mouth.
“Very good. Now hold on to me, and climb up”
Juliet slowly turned around, she sobbed as her hands clawed at Bond’s clothes.
“…Don’t let go of me James” desperation punctuated every word.
“It’s okay, you just need to climb up me; don’t worry we’ll be out of here in a moment” Juliet locked her fingers around his black bullet proof vest. Bond let go of her collar and placed both hands over the rim of the trap door. He knew the pain it caused would not ease until she had climbed over him.
Slowly, for every movement sent pain throughout his body, Bond widened his grip on the lip of the trap door. His chest heaved with one more colossal effort. Then he hung like a parody of Christ on the cross. Only the sound of their laboured breathing could be heard in the tunnel. Bond began to close his mind to the pain. His heart began to slow. Calm washed over him. His eyes closed; his entire body began to close down.
“Arrogance is not exclusively British, but you seem to have cornered the market with it Mr. Bond!” The female voice was loud and chilling from the other side of the pit. Juliet screamed. Her head turned to see the owner of the voice. She lost her grip and her right hand fell away from Bond’s jacket.
From deep within himself, his hand shot out. Bond grabbed her.
His body swiveled away from the metal floor. Pain seared through his shoulder. As he stopped her fall his body smashed against the metal plate, he grunted with pain. The voice from the other side of the pit laughed at their predicament.
Bond looked down at her. “Juliet! Hold on”
Slowly her hand came back and grabbed him. Her body shook against him, her sobs were pitiful. He released her and replaced his hand on the trap door.
As he made his move his fingers brushed against the attaché case. With pain flooding through his body, Bond resumed the position. He hung on the trap door as Juliet began to climb over him.
Slowly he looked up at the figure opposite. Their eyes locked.
“There are limits to what even you can achieve Mr. Bond” Her voice was cold and detached in the emptiness of the tunnel. The lights lit up her face. It was a face that Bond had seen before; yet it wasn’t familiar. In his mind he dragged back the memory of where he’d seen her before. From a far Bill Tanner’s voice echoed in his brain.
“In total there were three suspect passports from that arrival. All are being investigated. One male two female”
“So our girl has a second passport” said M
“So it would seem. The other female is still lodged in Paris” Tanner clicked the pointer and the photograph of a Caucasian woman in her early twenties came into view.
“This is Kathryn Leon nee Genola, Recently married; it was the first time her new passport was used. I think we could rule her out of the investigation”
***
Bond looked at the girl, she could have been no older than 24. Dark blonde hair cropped short, and charcoal grey business suit, the skirt tantalizingly just above the knee. He tried to make sense of her reason for being here.
Then, as the realization took hold he looked down at Juliet. His smile was false he tried to make the smile as reassuring as possible, but failed. Meanwhile his mind was working overtime.
Bond recalled how the man known as Adonis had screamed the name Katrina as he dived to his death. Hessel had told him about his scientists; how had he described them? “Artists, even the child prodigies”
Well if this was one of the scientists that had invented Rotunza, then the image of the old pipe smoking eccentric was well and truly buried.
The weight of Juliet tore at his arms; the metal bit into his fingers.
“Nice to meet you Kathryn; or is it Katrina?”
“Doctor Katrina, if you don’t mind” The voice was very pretentious.
“How was Paris?… Lovely place for a honeymoon”
The girl clapped her hands, the smile was genuine; her teeth were very even and white “Tres bien! How was London? I hear the clever money is on you taking the blame for the bomb. They’re calling you a traitor”
“Sticks and stones…” Bond felt the sinews of his shoulders stretch. His smile had to finish off the saying. He raised his eyebrows, and slightly inclined his head. “Is that your husband?”
Katrina gave a sharp glance at the man by her side, then her head snapped back; a look of disdain on her face. “No way. He’s just another drone. Totally dedicated to me of course” She preened as she lent closer to the edge of the pit, trying to convey privacy in the conversation.
“Totally screwed in the head, but a great body don’t you think?”
“Not for me to say”
She clicked her fingers. “…Where were we. Oh yes, you’re a traitor. So I’ll be doing the tax payer a favour when I finally rid the world of James Bond” The man by her side handed her a gun.
“Thank-you Robin” Bond recognized the gun as a Beretta M9.
“You know my name…” Bond grappled with the situation, he needed time.
“…and your number, 007. The Defense secretary was most informative” She adjusted her stance, holding the gun out in front; classic double handed grip.
Bond inclined his head toward Juliet “Please, will you let her go; let her climb out of this…this…” he struggled for the words, in fact he was stalling for time.
“Hell? Is that what this is Mister Bond? Isn’t this what you got her into?”
“Yes, this is hell” Bond’s voice was crestfallen; he needed to play the girl, make her become overconfident. In reality he knew he was just stalling for time; but how much longer could he hold on?
“Very gallant Mr. Bond but her life is not in your hands. Once she’d escaped Adonis in London; I wanted her death to be something spectacular. You see I’m a girl that likes revenge. You cheated me out of that moment with your cleaver driving on the mountainside in Geneva. Since then I’ve just been biding my time. Still maybe best to not kill her just yet. She will probably be an excellent witness at your inquest. So maybe her death can wait” Her voice was monotone and very boring, but the sentiment was all conquering.
Bond sighed “Climb up” He looked down at Juliet.
Juliet began to climb, her arms shook as she took another hold. Her cheek caressed his face as she clambered over his body.
“When you get to the top, lay on the case, but don’t move it” He whispered into her ear. Her perfume brightened his moment. Bond turned his face to the side as her body slithered over his. From the other side of the pit, Katrina’s shrill laugh was like a slap in the face. “I think I’ll give Juliet the new strain of Rotunza for when she appears in the witness stand”
Juliet panted and grunted her way over the lip of the trap door. She slithered over the attaché case.
“Stay there Miss Guggler” Doctor Katrina shouted. She focused her attention back on Bond “Well, well Mr. Bond, any last words; something for posterity, something for the world to remember you by”
“You seem very sure I’m going to die”
“Well unless you’re immortal, you’ll be dead after I shoot you”
“We’ll only know that after you pull the trigger”
“Is that it; no begging for your life?”
“Not my style”
“Goodbye Mr. Bond” Katrina adjusted her stance, taking careful aim
“Wait. There’s one thing I’d like to know”
“What?”
“Why kill Marwick?”
“Why? Simple he pissed me off. We intended to kill M as well; you would have been held responsible for that as well. Job done”
“How did he piss you off? What was his crime” Bond needed time; he relaxed his hand on the ledge. Calm entered his thought process.
“Good god, you still don’t know do you”
“No I don’t” Bond’s voice was small. It was intended to boost Katrina’s confidence.
“This was all Marwick’s idea. He wanted to kill Prince Harry. He didn’t want to run the risk of him influencing his brother in the future. And god forbid if he should ever be promoted to the throne. I think you know why. Whatever. He thought it would be fitting to have MI6 kill him; as the world already thinks MI6 killed his Mother” She laughed again “Anyway Marwck learned of the work Klivex were doing with mind altering drugs. He actually approached Jurgen, and together they came up with the premise that if MI6 were given the instruction to kill anyone who’d seen the contents of a box stolen from the Palace, all we had to do was put Prince Harry in contact with said box. The mind altering drug was just perfect for the purpose. Marwick set up Wheatley. Hessel offered Osterman and Edward Blake”
“Got a bit too close for comfort did they?” Bond asked
“Duoro would have been compelling as the bereaved sister. Baines would have been hard to silence with an arm full of rotunza, and the ‘truth’ would have come tumbling out. Then as the whole sorry story came out Baines’ relationship with Gadaffi would have brought down the government”
“We’d just elect another”
“Yes, one that we controlled”
“So there was never any evidence in the box?”
“No, of course not” Her voice was triumphant.
Finally Bond had the evidence he’d wanted. He judged his movement to perfection, he changed his grip and swung up his hand to the base of the attaché case; Juliet’s weight held the case in place as the throwing knife slid from it’s scabbard. In one fluid motion Bond threw the weapon.
The knife rocketed across the gap heading for Katrina.
At the last moment the man stepped in front of her; the knife buried itself into his stomach; had it reached her it would have penetrated the good Doctor’s heart.
He fell forward and toppled into the pit. “Katrina I love you” he shouted as he fell. The noise his body made when it became skewered on the spikes was akin to sellotape being ripped from the reel.
Katrina looked down at the broken body; the razor sharp spikes had gone completely through his torso.
“That was unforgivable Mister Bond” She tutted loudly.
“Sometimes you have to do something unforgivable just to carry on living”
“Very Freud!” She fired the gun, the bullet smashed into the metal floor just inches from his right hand. Katrina laughed, and then she settled down into a classic shooters stance.
“I’m going to enjoy this Mr. Bond. I’m going to shoot your hands off and watch you drop” She sounded petulant, slowly she inched forward her toes just over the edge of the pit.
“Good of you to tell me that you meant to miss. I thought you were just a terrible shot”
“Very droll, I’m going to savor this moment for the rest of my life”
The knife sliced through her jacket and buried itself in her shoulder. Doctor Katrina looked down at the handle of the weapon, then slowly as the shock of the pain began to radiate through her body, she looked over the pit. Bond was still trapped in the crucifixion position, but as her eyes rose she saw that Juliet stood above him.
Standing opposite, Juliet looked back at her. In her hand she held the last of the throwing knives from the attaché case.
“ **** you bitch” Juliet threw the last knife.
Katrina side stepped the attack, and the knife landed harmlessly on the floor behind her. The metallic ring echoed through the tunnel.
Katrina returned to her position and painfully lifted the gun and fired; Juliet grunted and fell to the floor.
Bond released his grip and pivoted. He grasped the lip of the trap door and pushed off with his feet. His back was now toward Katrina.
“Good bye Mr. Bond” The shot was loud.
hackettOdds change the numbers remainPosts: 197MI6 Agent
Chapter Thirty
Reading between the lines.
Tripoli, Libya. The final day of operation Rotunda.
No pain. No slam of the bullet into the bullet proof vest…
No spasm, no fall to the shiny sharp spikes below him. James Bond remained frozen in time.
The loud gunshot still echoed throughout the pit, fading in intensity, bouncing off the walls in an anti-crescendo of noise. Bond clung tightly to the lip of the trap door. He looked up; a droplet of sweat ran down his cheek. From his exposed position he could clearly see the prone form of Juliet Guggler, her body lay in a twisted heap. He needed to go to her.
Long seconds ticked by. No second shot. Still no pain.
No taunting call from the good Doctor from the other side of the pit.
Bond tensed his resolve and dug his boot into the metal checker plate, and pulled his upper body over the lip. He flexed his arms for one more push. Only when he was on the edge came the voice from behind him.
“Come on Commander; we ain’t got all night”
Bond swung his leg over the lip, and rolled onto the ground, as he did so he saw Major Harry Fawkes and Corporal Tom Parker standing where the good doctor had so recently tried to kill him.
Tried and failed. Bond looked down into the pit, and saw the broken bloody corpse of Doctor Katrina impaled upon the spikes.
Bond got to his feet and rushed to Juliet’s side, he felt for a pulse.
Now that the trap door was free from weight, it tilted back, forming a solid floor, hiding the horror beneath.
Tom flattened his body against the wall of the tunnel and crab walked along the solid edge, his movement echoed throughout the tunnel.
There was a pulse, it was weak, but she was still alive.
James Bond gathered her into his aching arms and carried her to the edge of the trap door.
“Careful now” Tom extended his hand, pulling Bond along the edge. Holding Juliet changed his centre of balance, so that twice he felt the need to step out to correct his stance. His foot hit the plate, and the groan of the mechanism halted his movement. Slowly they continued.
On the other side of the trap door, they lay her on the floor. Tom administered a shot of adrenalin. Juliet let out an almighty screech and sat bolt upright. Her hand went to her stomach; it came away coated in blood.
She looked into Bond’s eyes “Oh James I can remember…” her voice was weak, her fingers clawed in the air as if trying to catch a snow flake.
“Don’t speak, we’ll get you out of here, we just need to patch you up first” Bond pressed down on the wound.
As Tom began working on staunching the flow of blood Juliet traced her fingers against the wall of the tunnel. She drew a large uneven letter ‘D’
“I remember the drink you had on the plane” Her voice came in un-easy waves, surfing on her ragged breath. Her eyes rested on Bond.
The first burst of gunfire was just exploratory. But it announced the sound of the soldiers scurrying down the tunnel. Their approach was unmistakable.
Juliet didn’t flinch; she was oblivious to the danger, she continued to draw on the wall. Softly she hummed a song, its melody at odds with the ugly sound of the approaching guns.
“Time to go” Fawkes moved into a defensive position in front of them; waiting for the attack.
“We can’t move her till we get this wound shut off” Tom ripped open the medi pack.
Bond picked up a Heckler & Kotch machine pistol “Don’t be slow” He formed a human barricade besides Harry in front of the stricken girl.
“Look James” He glanced at the wall.
Juliet had written the letters ‘ecree’ on the wall, in her own blood.
“Very good, just hang on; we’ll be out of here in a minute”
The first soldier rounded the corner, Bond shot him stone dead.
The grenade bounced over the metal plating. Fawkes jumped up and kicked it back. The explosion sent shrapnel into the walls and roof of the tunnel. In the aftermath the quiet was unnerving.
Then the machine gun fire cascaded around them like hail stones.
“Move it Tom” Fawkes returned the fire. Juliet dipped her fingers into the blood again and began to write again.
“Such fun” she said, but her voice was distant. Her fingers clawed at the wall. Blood dripped to the floor.
Very quietly she said “James, you see I can remember everything. I remember I even tried to kill you…Oh what was I thinking”
“You weren’t feeling yourself”
“Okay, we’re ready”. Tom shouted above the gunfire. He stuffed the medical kit back in his bag.
“Do you want me to carry her?”
Bond threw the gun at him and picked up Juliet. “No, she’s with me”
“Take me home James” She whispered. Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Bond began to jog along the tunnel.
Fawkes brought up the rear as they started down the tunnel. The lights were off, but the darkness was not complete.
“How far to the exit?” Bond asked. Juliet snuggled nicely in his arms.
“Two hundred yards” Fawkes shouted back over his shoulder
“All up-hill” added Tom. They charged on. The bullets zinged off the wall behind them, a small sliver of stone slashed a cut across Bond’s cheek. The moonlight reached into the tunnel, drawing them into its safety. Juliet’s head lolled from side to side. The city scape beyond the tunnel showed clearly. Bond sucked in the air. Fifty yards to go. The faint smell of wet sand hit Bond, were they heading for the beach? No it was definitely the city.
Ten yards to safety. Behind him the gunfire was intense lighting the tunnel in a harsh blinding deadly light.
Tom screamed “I’m hit” Bond turned to see if he could help, but Fawkes shouted back
“Keep going James” Bond turned back and came face to face with a Libyan soldier, both men stopped dead. His gun prodded into Juliet’s body. Bond noted it was an Israeli Galil 7.62mm.
Tom and Harry backed into Bond. The soldier opened his mouth and fell forward, dropping to the floor at Bond’s feet. Private Craig Dixon returned his knife to its black rubber scabbard at his waist. Fawkes fired one more burst into the pursuing pack, the gun fell on an empty chamber “I’m out”
“Let me help” Dick lifted Juliet from Bond’s arms and sprinted to the 4x4. Bond grabbed hold of Tom and hurried him along to the 4x4. Fawkes picked up the Galil and followed behind them.
Dick started the engine. Fawkes threw the gun at Bond. He caught it and jumped into the front passenger seat. The tyres squealed. Bond noticed the tunnel entrance had brought them out into a building site. Building sand was all around them. At least that explained the smell.
The first of the soldiers burst out of the tunnel. Their fire raked the back of the Hyundai, zinging and pinging into the metal work, like a hammer on an anvil. Dick changed gear and the car bounced over the rough terrain.
The 4x4 bounced out of the site onto the road, making a rapid withdrawal. The gunfire died in the distance.
“Next stop London” Dick shouted to the team.
The heavily armed Toyota Hi lux came out of the side street twenty yards behind them; its bright lights illuminated the interior of the Hyundai.
It was one of two vehicles that they had seen earlier in the night. Bristling with weapons it took up chase.
“Oh ” Dick grimaced.
The two cars bounced along the street, engines whining in protest. Fawkes could clearly see a soldier stood on the flat bed behind the cab, trying to aim the rocket propelled grenade launcher. His fingers hovered over the trigger, just a moment away from sending a missile into the body of the black Hyundai.
“We need to get out of his line of fire!”
The narrow street offered no opportunity to turn off. At the far end of the street the second Toyota appeared, cutting off their escape. The truck came to an abrupt halt. It stood in defiance, engine revving like a panting dog.
“Weapons?” Bond shouted, as he switched his view from truck to truck.
“We’re all done; there’s only your Heckler and the Galil” Fawkes kept the pressure on Juliet’s wound as he nodded toward the guns in Bond’s hands.
“Slow down” Bond shouted to Dick
“What?” he screamed even though he complied. The 4x4 slithered to a stop. The Toyota screamed up behind them.
“Get down Harry” Bond pivoted in his seat and aimed the Heckler. In the sights Bond singled out the driver. Carefully he pulled the trigger and fired through the smashed rear window. The bullets cut through the air, smashing through the windscreen into the cab of the Toyota. Bond watched as the glass blew out. Now the driver was exposed. Bond switched to the sniper rifle.
The Israeli defence department had taken a standard Galil assault rifle, and re-chambered it to 7.62x51mm NATO. They had added a slick little adjustable stock that folded for transport, mounted a bipod to the front of the receiver (as opposed to the barrel), they added a two stage trigger and mounted a scope on the side of the receiver to avoid mounting to the stamped receiver on top the rifle.
Harry Fawkes knew what Bond was planning, the pressure would be immence.
“I’ve yet to get the opportunity to use that rifle, may I?”
“This is my mess, I’ll fix it”
“My first impression is that the gun will perform like an assualt rifle, and not like a true sniper rifle, you may need a couple of sighters”
Bond raised the Galil, putting his eye to the Nimrod sight.
In the glare of the heaplamps Fawkes never saw the Hi lux driver’s head implode, but he knew the spray of death from the Galil had done its job. The Toyota began to veer across the road. Inside the cab the driver’s lifeless body lost control. His dead hands turned the wheel abruptly, and the Hi lux smashed into the wall, the soldier on the back lost his grip on the RPG. The Toyota flipped over and skidded on its side. The sparks ignited the fuel tank, the car exploded.
“But of course I could be proven wrong”
“Lucky shot. OK you can go now” Bond urged Dick.
The tyres on the Hyundai fought for grip, as the 4x4 skidded away from the Toyota. Flames festooned around the smashed vehicle as it slid along the road behind them, the flames reached out like the grim hand of death toward the Hyundai. One of the rockets exploded upward smashing into the building at their side. Then the other rockets ignited from the heat. The first explosion brought down most of the front wall of the building, the second third and fourth totally demolished the building. The impetus of the explosion spurred the burning truck forward. The front of the Toyota slid into the Back of the Hyundai, which skidded from the impact. The two cars danced together along the road, the flames licked at the back of the Hyundai. Dick caught the slide and spun the wheel, the car shot away from the inferno. They tore down the road, hemmed in by apartment blocks on both sides. Behind them the buildings continued to collapse just like a planned demolition. In front of them the second Grenade carrying Toyota blocked their path; its headlights mocked their progress.
“Now what?” Dick asked.
“Now we take the scenic route” Bond jerked his thumb back at the demolished building.
“Nice one Commander” Dick executed the handbrake turn. The Hyundai charged headlong into the smouldering debris of the demolished building.
“Windows shut please” Fawkes shouted as the 4x4 sped through the flames.
Dick spun the wheel and the car jumped over the bricks and plunged through the dusty remains of the apartment block.
As they emerged from the smoke and dust Dick turned sharp right and gunned the accelerator. Two of the tyres were alight.
“We still got to sort out the RPG carrier at the end of here, they’ll be waiting for us you know” Dick nodded toward the end of the street
Bond checked the magazine. Only one round left. One single bullet.
“How much ammo have we got James?” asked Fawkes
“Enough” Answered Bond slamming the magazine back into the gun.
The 4x4 screamed out of the canyon of apartments. The junction they were approaching was controlled by traffic lights.
“Which way? Asked Dick. The Toyota was approaching fast from the right, like a pit-bull high on a blood lust.
“Turn right” shouted Bond “Then stop” The 4x4 screamed around the corner. The red light was ignored.
Dick executed the turn then slammed on the brakes.
“You’re the boss”
Bond opened the door and climbed out of the car; he jumped up on to the grab rail and stood on the roof of the Hyundai. Deliberately he took up station in front of the advancing Toyota.
The driver of the Toyota gritted his teeth, and ducked down behind the steering wheel. The truck headed directly for Bond.
Bond lifted the Galil to his shoulder, the driver was hidden behind the wheel; there was no clear shot. The cross hairs danced around the cab, searching for the target. The Toyota bore down upon them. Bond changed his aim, and fired the final round.
In modern firearms, all bullets come as part of a cartridge.
The cartridge is the combination of the bullet, the propellant, the propellant casing and the firing cap. The bullet itself is placed on top a brass casing that houses the propellant powder, and at the base of the cartridge is the firing cap.
The bullet from the snipers rifle created a small vortex as it covered the distance between the gun and the target. The bullet slammed into the throat of the soldier aiming the RPG. As he buckled under the pain of the bullet, his dying body slid to the bed. His hands remained gripped around the trigger. The RPG now pointed almost vertically. As the pressure exerted by the dead man’s fingers pressed the trigger the rocket looped into the air. From his cab the driver craned his neck to see where the grenade had gone, certainly not into the black Hyundai. The rocket arced into the sky and then plummeted back toward the Toyota. The driver slowed and watched in fascination as the grenade approached his own cab. As if pulled together by magnetism, the grenade homed in on the helpless driver as the truck meandered across the road into the wall. Bond stood like a statue on the roof of the 4x4.
The grenade exploded, engulfing the pick-up in a ball of flame.
Bond jumped back into the 4x4 “Okay the lights are green now”
Carefully Dick manoeuvred the 4x4 past the burning wreck.
“How far to the extraction site?” Fawkes asked as he slapped another medi pack on Tom’s wound.
“Couple of blocks away. How’s Tom?” replied Dick
“He’s doing fine, just drive”
The Hyundai tilted dangerously as it rounded another corner. Here however the local militia were waiting knelt on both sides of the street ready to open fire.
“Oh , don’t these guys ever give up” Dick, knowing they had no ammo, swerved to one side of the street, smashing into the oil drum. The drum flew into the air spraying burning embers all over the men crouched behind it, before they had a chance to fire. Dick swerved back across the street. Then the locals opened fire. Dick swerved back, but this time the 4x4 missed the oil drum. The burning tyre deflated and the car became trapped the gully at the side of the road. In a flash Bond opened the passenger door and pushed over the next drum. It rolled down the road scattering the local men as it kept pace with the burning 4x4 as it sped past.
“Bye bye” Dick waved as he bumped the car out of the gully. And finally made the lunge onto the pavement. They continued to smash into more untended home-made fires burning in oil drums as they made their chaotic way down the street. In their wake, men their clothes burning, ran in disarray, spoiling the aim of other local soldiers.
“Must be shift change over” Dick commented
***
The small park was very quiet and very still in the moonlight. The 4x4 sighed to a stop.
“Where’s that bloody chopper?” Dick jumped from the car and helped Tom to the edge of the flat grass area. Fawkes stood guard at the rear of the Hyundai
Bond carried Juliet. “James you need to prepare yourself, I don’t think she’s gonna…”
Bond glared back at him. Harry knew the thought had never entered into his mind.
In the cool night air the wind began to stir. Silently the four bladed, twin engine UH-60 Black Hawk, medium-lift utility Sikorsky helicopter dropped to the ground. The down draft stirred up the grass.
Dick shouted over his shoulder “Come on guys, time to go home”
Harry looked over at Bond as they began their crouched run to the chopper
“How’s your girl doing Commander?” He knew Bond would never give up hope.
Bond looked down at the peaceful face of Juliet Guggler. Even in the poor light her beauty was undeniable. Her eyes were shut, and the long lashes touched her cheeks, and seemed to light up her skin.
The darker freckles seemed to glow.
“She’s had a hell of a night; but with a good night’s sleep she won’t remember any of this in the morning”
hackettOdds change the numbers remainPosts: 197MI6 Agent
Epilogue
During the night of the 24 May 2011, a series of powerful explosions shook Tripoli after NATO warplanes carried out 20 bombing raids. Witnesses said many of the raids were aimed at the military compound Bab al-Azizia, where Colonel Gaddafi was in residence. Government spokesman Moussa Ibrahim, however, claimed that the NATO warplanes had missed their target, instead striking civilian houses nearby. Libyan government television showed 19 bodies at a hospital. Hospital workers claimed the victims were civilians who were killed by “NATO crusaders”
The following night, there were five large explosions, as the NATO air campaign continued. Air strikes once again targeted the Bab al-Azizia compound. Russia said the raids were a "gross violation" of the resolution, which Moscow did not condone. Large plumes of smoke could be seen drifting over the city. NATO said the large Bab al-Azizia compound was being used by the Gaddafi regime as a base for troops and vehicles to carry out attacks on civilians; Libyan authorities maintained that NATO was trying to kill Gaddafi and the night-time strikes were terrorizing Tripoli residents.
On 28 May 2011, three massive explosions crippled the city’s power supply. Later that night blasts at Gaddafi’s vehicle storage unit, Qasr bin Ghashir accompanied the sound of small arms fire coming from the interior of the compound, along with one brilliant white explosion over the compound.
Libyan officials believed the strikes were NATO attacks. However NATO fiercely denied that the activities were part of their strategy. Russian observers reluctantly confirmed the absence of activity from NATO bases.
On 20 August, the Battle of Tripoli began with uprisings within the city. By 22 August, Bab al-Azizia was surrounded by rebel fighters and repeatedly bombed by NATO jets.
On 23 August, the rebels breached the outer walls of the compound. Subsequently, the forces defending the compound surrendered and rebels poured in; climbing onto the sculpture of the ‘Fist Crushing a U.S. Fighter Plane’.
Despite previous reports that Gaddafi and his family might be inside the compound, they were not found when it fell to the rebels.
By October, it was reported that the land was going to be used as a marketplace and tourist attraction. As the sun rose on the 16th October, the massive walls were demolished by bulldozers.
Work continued until the 30th of October when the compound was finally demolished. The transition government announced new plans to turn the former compound into a park.
On the 5th of November, the first visitors were allowed to enter the land. They flocked into the compound on foot and by car to see the ruins and walk through the underground tunnels.
The once pristine walls were soon full with graffiti. Naturally it was written in the local native script except for two words, which still remain today. Scrawled in English, in what looked like blood were two words. Although difficult to read it was thought that the words were ‘Decree Absolute’
***
‘Spay Cast’ looked like a castle from a fairytale.
Above the bedroom windows, turrets and spires pointed happily toward the clouds. Faint wisps of smoke from the manor’s chimneys reached upward grasping for the summer sky.
The high windows sat beneath sculpted gables amidst the white painted mock Tudor façade.
The sudden death of the former head of MI6, Barbara Mawdsley had been a shock to James Bond; after all it was she that had promoted him to the Double 0 section six years earlier. The bigger shock had come during the reading of her will when the manor ‘Spay Cast’ situated in the heart of Glencoe had been bequeathed to him.
Unquestionably the area was one of Scotland's most historic and scenic glens. The house itself was hued from local materials, it’s presence inspired by the sheer scale and grandeur of its surrounding mountains. The peacefulness seemed only to prick the conscious and beg one to delve into the intrigue of its turbulent past.
Jurgen Hessel’s silver birch Aston Martin DB5 (for which the acquisition, and import were still under scrutiny from the UK customs and excise department) pulled up in front of the house. James Bond, wearing a dark blue ghost stripe suit jumped out. In front of the house was the loch; Bond remembered that M had told him that she had her husband had had it stocked with Atlantic salmon at a cost similar to six month’s salary.
The stillness of the location touched him again, so much so that he found himself walking on tip toes over the gravel drive to reduce the sound of his own foot-steps.
The front door was made from solid oak, with iron hinges hammered into the ancient wood.
Bond slammed the ornate knocker against the well-worn striker plate.
The journey and the anticipation of meeting the staff had blunted his anger over Sir John Green’s decision to take him off the active list, pending the results from the evaluation session. Bond wondered what lay in store for him.
As if in a scene from a gothic horror movie the large heavy door slowly swung open. Bond remembered the one and only other time he’d knocked on the door. M herself had opened it. Now he expected to see a typical old butler beckoning him in.
“Good day to you sir, you’ll be Mister James” The butler beckoned him in.
“That’s right, you must be the butler” Bond had imagined the butler would be smaller and older, but the black suit, white shirt and undertaker’s black tie were spot on. The butler looked to be in his early 60’s. A shock of wild thick silver hair was absently brushed across his broad forehead. His features were large, and honest; portraying a sense of trustworthiness.
“I prefer 'Gamekeeper' or 'Gillie' as my offical title" the stern face softened. "My name is Hanson; but my previous Mistress always called me Robert” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, the accent candid and welcoming.
“Then with your permission, I’d like to do the same” Bond thrust out his hand. Robert shook it without hesitation. The grasp was strong, and the feel could only begin to hint at a life history filled with knowledge.
Robert gave a small bow of his head “Thank-you sir. Welcome to Spay Cast”
“Thank-you” Instantly Bond felt at home.
“Come through” The voice full of excitement. Bond followed Robert through the airy lounge. History hung on every wall.
The archetypical Scottish housekeeper stood by the fireplace. Dark blue cardigan, over a white starched apron. Straight, dark grey hair carefully brushed across her forehead.
The warmth she generated in her blue eyes seemed capable of out-performing any logs that had been placed on the open fire.
“This is my wife, May” Hanson stretched out his hand. May gave a small bow.
The head of a large red dear hung above the stone fireplace its antlers looking as impressive as the piece was obscene. But Bond hardly noticed it.
“Hello May, you must be the house keeper” They to shook hands. The feel of her hand conveyed the coarseness of washing and the deft touch of an expert in the kitchen.
“Hello Mr. James; I’ve heard such a lot about you” Her voice was sing song pleasant, the smile open and warm; but the delivery was as harsh as a disappointed school ma’am.
“From…” Bond searched for the correct address “Your former Mistress?”
“Yes. She was very fond of telling us about your exploits” Her face suddenly hardened, her eyes conveyed another disapproving look, Bond felt quiet intimidated.
“All your exploits…” The smile returned, but without a hint of compromise.
“Come, come now May, Mr. James doesn’t want to dwell on the past”
“I know that Robert; I just wanted him to understand a few house rules” and with that the smile shone through the clouds of disapproval and she left the room.
“They would sometimes take a wee dram together on an evening” Robert’s simple sentence explained how the tales had been passed.
“And you didn’t join them?”
“Certainly not; although the Master and I would sometimes review the cellar”
“The cellar?” Bond asked, trying to keep excitement from his voice.
“The cellar” Robert extended his hand and led Bond toward a small door to the side of the main hallway.
The wooden floor boards creaked in sympathy as they walked across the room.
The smell of polish on wood filled the air adding to the impression of heritage; and the feeling of strength and self-imposed solitude.
***
James Bond sat on the terrace overlooking the fast flowing river behind the property. The hiss and froth of the water cleansed away the stress of the morning, and washed away the taste of the fuzzy memory of the previous night.
Bond checked his phone. Bill Tanner had sent a message. A series of photographs were attached. He opened the first one.
May put the silver breakfast tray onto the table. The bacon and sausage smelt heavenly. Just what he needed to help recover from the previous night.
Bond put down his phone. May picked up the Sony, and looked at the photographs of Juliet Guggler with an approving eye. The pictures had apparently caught the girl unaware, as she wasn’t looking directly into the camera on any of the shots.
“That’s a very pretty lass; will we be seeing your friend here for a stay?”
Bond took the phone from her hand. With a smile he closed the photographs
“No. She’s not a friend; she’s just somebody that I used to know”
“As you wish Mr. James, as you wish”
The phone rang. Bill Tanner’s name was emblazoned across the screen.
“Hello Bill” Bond made a stern face at May. She smiled sarcastically, and made a slow laboured retreat into the house.
“Hello James” The soft tones of Moneypenny were like music to his ear.
“Hello Moneypenny; why?”
The voice laughed back at him “I didn’t think you’d answer it if you knew it was me ringing”
Bond thought it sounded as if the olive branch were being held out.
“Why not” He probed
“Last conversation we had wasn’t exactly loving”
“Well there were mitigating circumstances; but that’s in the past”
“Agreed; shall we move on?”
“Love to; how do you suggest we proceed?” He recalled that on their very first meeting she had subjected him to some seriously flirtatious remarks, that had been four years ago. Their flirtatious banter had gone no further, but they were both happy with the arrangement; until he had died of course. The resurrection hadn’t gone down too well, now he was eager to resume their former relationship.
Monepenny was perhaps just shy of mid-thirties, about 5’ 7” with dark brown hair and the most perfectly rounded cheek bones. Bond loved her Rodean accent; he was sure there was a trace of the Orient in her family background, but no one at MI6 could confirm it.
“Slowly” Her tone was superior with the ever present hint of ‘naughtiness’
“Slowly? You mean like over dinner”
“I mean like the next time you come into the office you can expect to find a friend there”
“Well that’s nice to know” Bond heard the kitchen door open again. Heavy footsteps slowly approached.
“When are we expecting you back at your desk?”
“M has given me the rest of the week to acclimatize to my new surroundings, his way of saying thanks for the appointment with the Doctor”
“Oh yes, I heard you breezed through the evaluation”
Hanson appeared before him. Robert wore the waders and rubber coat of a north Atlantic fisherman. His smile was broad and infectious.
“Then I look forward to seeing you next Monday” The laughed poured through the words.
“Can you wait that long?” Bond injected a tone of lust into the line
“I’ll try. Bye…” The voice rose in pitch; then the line went dead.
Hanson raised his arms to extenuate his outfit.
“I’m just off to catch dinner; should I try to net another for your guest?”
Bond marveled at the couple’s sense of hearing, and understanding of a one sided conversation.
“Not necessary…tonight” Bond added.
“As you wish Mr. James” He turned to trudge down to the river.
“Robert, you’re looking in fine health this morning…”
Hanson laughed. “A few more visits to the cellar; and you will be able to partake in the malt like a true Scot…The breakfast will help though. You enjoy it.”
Bond smiled at the thought.
“You’ll soon be able to leave your hangover at the border”
“I look forward to that”
Hanson stepped down from the patio area.
Bond’s phone began to ring again. His hand retrieved it in a flash; Tanner’s name was emblazoned on the screen.
“I think that must be the shortest wait in history, I’ll make a reservation at the Hawksmoor” the words tumbled easily from his mouth.
“I didn’t know you cared 007” Bill Tanner answered.
“Sorry Bill, wrong number”
“I rang you 007”
“Something like that. How can I help, Bill?”
“That medical and psychological assessment you went through…”
“Yes, what about it?” Bond smarted at the memory. It was perhaps a small indignation to go through, to convince his employers that he was unaffected by Operation Rotunda. And indeed that he was not under the influence of any of the Klivex products. Still he’d found the interviews tiresome.
“Good and bad news I’m afraid”
“Go on”
“The good news is you passed with flying colours. The bad news is it puts you back on the active register again”
“I take that as good too”
“You may have to appraise that view 007. M wants a meeting with you today”
“What time?”
“Don’t worry about that; we’re sending a helicopter to pick you up. He should be there within the next ten minutes”
“Good. What’s the panic?” Bond put a mouthful of bacon into his mouth.
“What do you know about the Stuxnet virus?”
“It was a cyber menace targeted on Iran”
“Yes, it was seen as an apparent bid to disrupt the country's uranium enrichment programme”
“That’s not a bad thing”
“I agree, unfortunately Iran do not. They retaliated yesterday. A number of key Saudi oil facilities went offline after their computer systems suffered a malware attack”
“Cyber warfare”
“Yes. As computers organise and dominate more and more of our world, cyber warfare threats are being taken much more seriously”
“What triggered the panic Bill?”
“GCHQ intercepted messages from a cyber-terrorist group during the week before the Saudis went offline. The messages were all electronically signed ‘Complete Darkness’ they then gave the times and dates, and the GPS locations for the five oil fields”
“Go on”
“Last night, GCHQ intercepted another communication from the same group, the GPS location is London”
“How long have I got?”
“Five days…James, we need you back”
“I never left”
Comments
The good Doctor.
Tripoli, Libya. The final day of operation Rotunda.
“James help…” She swung gently below him. The cold air came up from the pit to cool the sweat on his skin.
“…It’s okay just hold on”
“James I can’t”
“Yes you can” His smile was reassuring
“Juliet, can you throw the case up?” Bond spoke with determination.
“What?”
“The case is weighing you down; throw it up”
She realised she was still holding the case
“I’ll just drop it…” her hand began to relax
“….No” Bond was firm. Juliet looked up at him.
Juliet grunted with the effort. She began to swing the case.
“That’s it” Bond encouraged her. His voice did not betray the strain on his arms, he had reached breaking point himself; but still he held on.
Juliet looked up her eyes were wide with fear. Her smile was tainted with tears. Her scream was primal and heart-felt as she swung the attaché case over arm. Bond watched it turn end over end as it travelled past him; he was helpless to help it on its way. For long moments it hung in the air. Then he heard it clatter on the floor. Bond looked up, one corner protruded over the edge. He watched helpless as more and more of the case slid over the lip of the pit. Then it stopped. A nervous single breathy laugh emitted from his mouth.
“Very good. Now hold on to me, and climb up”
Juliet slowly turned around, she sobbed as her hands clawed at Bond’s clothes.
“…Don’t let go of me James” desperation punctuated every word.
“It’s okay, you just need to climb up me; don’t worry we’ll be out of here in a moment” Juliet locked her fingers around his black bullet proof vest. Bond let go of her collar and placed both hands over the rim of the trap door. He knew the pain it caused would not ease until she had climbed over him.
Slowly, for every movement sent pain throughout his body, Bond widened his grip on the lip of the trap door. His chest heaved with one more colossal effort. Then he hung like a parody of Christ on the cross. Only the sound of their laboured breathing could be heard in the tunnel. Bond began to close his mind to the pain. His heart began to slow. Calm washed over him. His eyes closed; his entire body began to close down.
“Arrogance is not exclusively British, but you seem to have cornered the market with it Mr. Bond!” The female voice was loud and chilling from the other side of the pit. Juliet screamed. Her head turned to see the owner of the voice. She lost her grip and her right hand fell away from Bond’s jacket.
From deep within himself, his hand shot out. Bond grabbed her.
His body swiveled away from the metal floor. Pain seared through his shoulder. As he stopped her fall his body smashed against the metal plate, he grunted with pain. The voice from the other side of the pit laughed at their predicament.
Bond looked down at her. “Juliet! Hold on”
Slowly her hand came back and grabbed him. Her body shook against him, her sobs were pitiful. He released her and replaced his hand on the trap door.
As he made his move his fingers brushed against the attaché case. With pain flooding through his body, Bond resumed the position. He hung on the trap door as Juliet began to climb over him.
Slowly he looked up at the figure opposite. Their eyes locked.
“There are limits to what even you can achieve Mr. Bond” Her voice was cold and detached in the emptiness of the tunnel. The lights lit up her face. It was a face that Bond had seen before; yet it wasn’t familiar. In his mind he dragged back the memory of where he’d seen her before. From a far Bill Tanner’s voice echoed in his brain.
“In total there were three suspect passports from that arrival. All are being investigated. One male two female”
“So our girl has a second passport” said M
“So it would seem. The other female is still lodged in Paris” Tanner clicked the pointer and the photograph of a Caucasian woman in her early twenties came into view.
“This is Kathryn Leon nee Genola, Recently married; it was the first time her new passport was used. I think we could rule her out of the investigation”
***
Bond looked at the girl, she could have been no older than 24. Dark blonde hair cropped short, and charcoal grey business suit, the skirt tantalizingly just above the knee. He tried to make sense of her reason for being here.
Then, as the realization took hold he looked down at Juliet. His smile was false he tried to make the smile as reassuring as possible, but failed. Meanwhile his mind was working overtime.
Bond recalled how the man known as Adonis had screamed the name Katrina as he dived to his death. Hessel had told him about his scientists; how had he described them? “Artists, even the child prodigies”
Well if this was one of the scientists that had invented Rotunza, then the image of the old pipe smoking eccentric was well and truly buried.
The weight of Juliet tore at his arms; the metal bit into his fingers.
“Nice to meet you Kathryn; or is it Katrina?”
“Doctor Katrina, if you don’t mind” The voice was very pretentious.
“How was Paris?… Lovely place for a honeymoon”
The girl clapped her hands, the smile was genuine; her teeth were very even and white “Tres bien! How was London? I hear the clever money is on you taking the blame for the bomb. They’re calling you a traitor”
“Sticks and stones…” Bond felt the sinews of his shoulders stretch. His smile had to finish off the saying. He raised his eyebrows, and slightly inclined his head. “Is that your husband?”
Katrina gave a sharp glance at the man by her side, then her head snapped back; a look of disdain on her face. “No way. He’s just another drone. Totally dedicated to me of course” She preened as she lent closer to the edge of the pit, trying to convey privacy in the conversation.
“Totally screwed in the head, but a great body don’t you think?”
“Not for me to say”
She clicked her fingers. “…Where were we. Oh yes, you’re a traitor. So I’ll be doing the tax payer a favour when I finally rid the world of James Bond” The man by her side handed her a gun.
“Thank-you Robin” Bond recognized the gun as a Beretta M9.
“You know my name…” Bond grappled with the situation, he needed time.
“…and your number, 007. The Defense secretary was most informative” She adjusted her stance, holding the gun out in front; classic double handed grip.
Bond inclined his head toward Juliet “Please, will you let her go; let her climb out of this…this…” he struggled for the words, in fact he was stalling for time.
“Hell? Is that what this is Mister Bond? Isn’t this what you got her into?”
“Yes, this is hell” Bond’s voice was crestfallen; he needed to play the girl, make her become overconfident. In reality he knew he was just stalling for time; but how much longer could he hold on?
“Very gallant Mr. Bond but her life is not in your hands. Once she’d escaped Adonis in London; I wanted her death to be something spectacular. You see I’m a girl that likes revenge. You cheated me out of that moment with your cleaver driving on the mountainside in Geneva. Since then I’ve just been biding my time. Still maybe best to not kill her just yet. She will probably be an excellent witness at your inquest. So maybe her death can wait” Her voice was monotone and very boring, but the sentiment was all conquering.
Bond sighed “Climb up” He looked down at Juliet.
Juliet began to climb, her arms shook as she took another hold. Her cheek caressed his face as she clambered over his body.
“When you get to the top, lay on the case, but don’t move it” He whispered into her ear. Her perfume brightened his moment. Bond turned his face to the side as her body slithered over his. From the other side of the pit, Katrina’s shrill laugh was like a slap in the face. “I think I’ll give Juliet the new strain of Rotunza for when she appears in the witness stand”
Juliet panted and grunted her way over the lip of the trap door. She slithered over the attaché case.
“Stay there Miss Guggler” Doctor Katrina shouted. She focused her attention back on Bond “Well, well Mr. Bond, any last words; something for posterity, something for the world to remember you by”
“You seem very sure I’m going to die”
“Well unless you’re immortal, you’ll be dead after I shoot you”
“We’ll only know that after you pull the trigger”
“Is that it; no begging for your life?”
“Not my style”
“Goodbye Mr. Bond” Katrina adjusted her stance, taking careful aim
“Wait. There’s one thing I’d like to know”
“What?”
“Why kill Marwick?”
“Why? Simple he pissed me off. We intended to kill M as well; you would have been held responsible for that as well. Job done”
“How did he piss you off? What was his crime” Bond needed time; he relaxed his hand on the ledge. Calm entered his thought process.
“Good god, you still don’t know do you”
“No I don’t” Bond’s voice was small. It was intended to boost Katrina’s confidence.
“This was all Marwick’s idea. He wanted to kill Prince Harry. He didn’t want to run the risk of him influencing his brother in the future. And god forbid if he should ever be promoted to the throne. I think you know why. Whatever. He thought it would be fitting to have MI6 kill him; as the world already thinks MI6 killed his Mother” She laughed again “Anyway Marwck learned of the work Klivex were doing with mind altering drugs. He actually approached Jurgen, and together they came up with the premise that if MI6 were given the instruction to kill anyone who’d seen the contents of a box stolen from the Palace, all we had to do was put Prince Harry in contact with said box. The mind altering drug was just perfect for the purpose. Marwick set up Wheatley. Hessel offered Osterman and Edward Blake”
“Got a bit too close for comfort did they?” Bond asked
“Duoro would have been compelling as the bereaved sister. Baines would have been hard to silence with an arm full of rotunza, and the ‘truth’ would have come tumbling out. Then as the whole sorry story came out Baines’ relationship with Gadaffi would have brought down the government”
“We’d just elect another”
“Yes, one that we controlled”
“So there was never any evidence in the box?”
“No, of course not” Her voice was triumphant.
Finally Bond had the evidence he’d wanted. He judged his movement to perfection, he changed his grip and swung up his hand to the base of the attaché case; Juliet’s weight held the case in place as the throwing knife slid from it’s scabbard. In one fluid motion Bond threw the weapon.
The knife rocketed across the gap heading for Katrina.
At the last moment the man stepped in front of her; the knife buried itself into his stomach; had it reached her it would have penetrated the good Doctor’s heart.
He fell forward and toppled into the pit. “Katrina I love you” he shouted as he fell. The noise his body made when it became skewered on the spikes was akin to sellotape being ripped from the reel.
Katrina looked down at the broken body; the razor sharp spikes had gone completely through his torso.
“That was unforgivable Mister Bond” She tutted loudly.
“Sometimes you have to do something unforgivable just to carry on living”
“Very Freud!” She fired the gun, the bullet smashed into the metal floor just inches from his right hand. Katrina laughed, and then she settled down into a classic shooters stance.
“I’m going to enjoy this Mr. Bond. I’m going to shoot your hands off and watch you drop” She sounded petulant, slowly she inched forward her toes just over the edge of the pit.
“Good of you to tell me that you meant to miss. I thought you were just a terrible shot”
“Very droll, I’m going to savor this moment for the rest of my life”
The knife sliced through her jacket and buried itself in her shoulder. Doctor Katrina looked down at the handle of the weapon, then slowly as the shock of the pain began to radiate through her body, she looked over the pit. Bond was still trapped in the crucifixion position, but as her eyes rose she saw that Juliet stood above him.
Standing opposite, Juliet looked back at her. In her hand she held the last of the throwing knives from the attaché case.
“ **** you bitch” Juliet threw the last knife.
Katrina side stepped the attack, and the knife landed harmlessly on the floor behind her. The metallic ring echoed through the tunnel.
Katrina returned to her position and painfully lifted the gun and fired; Juliet grunted and fell to the floor.
Bond released his grip and pivoted. He grasped the lip of the trap door and pushed off with his feet. His back was now toward Katrina.
“Good bye Mr. Bond” The shot was loud.
Reading between the lines.
Tripoli, Libya. The final day of operation Rotunda.
No pain. No slam of the bullet into the bullet proof vest…
No spasm, no fall to the shiny sharp spikes below him. James Bond remained frozen in time.
The loud gunshot still echoed throughout the pit, fading in intensity, bouncing off the walls in an anti-crescendo of noise. Bond clung tightly to the lip of the trap door. He looked up; a droplet of sweat ran down his cheek. From his exposed position he could clearly see the prone form of Juliet Guggler, her body lay in a twisted heap. He needed to go to her.
Long seconds ticked by. No second shot. Still no pain.
No taunting call from the good Doctor from the other side of the pit.
Bond tensed his resolve and dug his boot into the metal checker plate, and pulled his upper body over the lip. He flexed his arms for one more push. Only when he was on the edge came the voice from behind him.
“Come on Commander; we ain’t got all night”
Bond swung his leg over the lip, and rolled onto the ground, as he did so he saw Major Harry Fawkes and Corporal Tom Parker standing where the good doctor had so recently tried to kill him.
Tried and failed. Bond looked down into the pit, and saw the broken bloody corpse of Doctor Katrina impaled upon the spikes.
Bond got to his feet and rushed to Juliet’s side, he felt for a pulse.
Now that the trap door was free from weight, it tilted back, forming a solid floor, hiding the horror beneath.
Tom flattened his body against the wall of the tunnel and crab walked along the solid edge, his movement echoed throughout the tunnel.
There was a pulse, it was weak, but she was still alive.
James Bond gathered her into his aching arms and carried her to the edge of the trap door.
“Careful now” Tom extended his hand, pulling Bond along the edge. Holding Juliet changed his centre of balance, so that twice he felt the need to step out to correct his stance. His foot hit the plate, and the groan of the mechanism halted his movement. Slowly they continued.
On the other side of the trap door, they lay her on the floor. Tom administered a shot of adrenalin. Juliet let out an almighty screech and sat bolt upright. Her hand went to her stomach; it came away coated in blood.
She looked into Bond’s eyes “Oh James I can remember…” her voice was weak, her fingers clawed in the air as if trying to catch a snow flake.
“Don’t speak, we’ll get you out of here, we just need to patch you up first” Bond pressed down on the wound.
As Tom began working on staunching the flow of blood Juliet traced her fingers against the wall of the tunnel. She drew a large uneven letter ‘D’
“I remember the drink you had on the plane” Her voice came in un-easy waves, surfing on her ragged breath. Her eyes rested on Bond.
The first burst of gunfire was just exploratory. But it announced the sound of the soldiers scurrying down the tunnel. Their approach was unmistakable.
Juliet didn’t flinch; she was oblivious to the danger, she continued to draw on the wall. Softly she hummed a song, its melody at odds with the ugly sound of the approaching guns.
“Time to go” Fawkes moved into a defensive position in front of them; waiting for the attack.
“We can’t move her till we get this wound shut off” Tom ripped open the medi pack.
Bond picked up a Heckler & Kotch machine pistol “Don’t be slow” He formed a human barricade besides Harry in front of the stricken girl.
“Look James” He glanced at the wall.
Juliet had written the letters ‘ecree’ on the wall, in her own blood.
“Very good, just hang on; we’ll be out of here in a minute”
The first soldier rounded the corner, Bond shot him stone dead.
The grenade bounced over the metal plating. Fawkes jumped up and kicked it back. The explosion sent shrapnel into the walls and roof of the tunnel. In the aftermath the quiet was unnerving.
Then the machine gun fire cascaded around them like hail stones.
“Move it Tom” Fawkes returned the fire. Juliet dipped her fingers into the blood again and began to write again.
“Such fun” she said, but her voice was distant. Her fingers clawed at the wall. Blood dripped to the floor.
Very quietly she said “James, you see I can remember everything. I remember I even tried to kill you…Oh what was I thinking”
“You weren’t feeling yourself”
“Okay, we’re ready”. Tom shouted above the gunfire. He stuffed the medical kit back in his bag.
“Do you want me to carry her?”
Bond threw the gun at him and picked up Juliet. “No, she’s with me”
“Take me home James” She whispered. Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Bond began to jog along the tunnel.
Fawkes brought up the rear as they started down the tunnel. The lights were off, but the darkness was not complete.
“How far to the exit?” Bond asked. Juliet snuggled nicely in his arms.
“Two hundred yards” Fawkes shouted back over his shoulder
“All up-hill” added Tom. They charged on. The bullets zinged off the wall behind them, a small sliver of stone slashed a cut across Bond’s cheek. The moonlight reached into the tunnel, drawing them into its safety. Juliet’s head lolled from side to side. The city scape beyond the tunnel showed clearly. Bond sucked in the air. Fifty yards to go. The faint smell of wet sand hit Bond, were they heading for the beach? No it was definitely the city.
Ten yards to safety. Behind him the gunfire was intense lighting the tunnel in a harsh blinding deadly light.
Tom screamed “I’m hit” Bond turned to see if he could help, but Fawkes shouted back
“Keep going James” Bond turned back and came face to face with a Libyan soldier, both men stopped dead. His gun prodded into Juliet’s body. Bond noted it was an Israeli Galil 7.62mm.
Tom and Harry backed into Bond. The soldier opened his mouth and fell forward, dropping to the floor at Bond’s feet. Private Craig Dixon returned his knife to its black rubber scabbard at his waist. Fawkes fired one more burst into the pursuing pack, the gun fell on an empty chamber “I’m out”
“Let me help” Dick lifted Juliet from Bond’s arms and sprinted to the 4x4. Bond grabbed hold of Tom and hurried him along to the 4x4. Fawkes picked up the Galil and followed behind them.
Dick started the engine. Fawkes threw the gun at Bond. He caught it and jumped into the front passenger seat. The tyres squealed. Bond noticed the tunnel entrance had brought them out into a building site. Building sand was all around them. At least that explained the smell.
The first of the soldiers burst out of the tunnel. Their fire raked the back of the Hyundai, zinging and pinging into the metal work, like a hammer on an anvil. Dick changed gear and the car bounced over the rough terrain.
The 4x4 bounced out of the site onto the road, making a rapid withdrawal. The gunfire died in the distance.
“Next stop London” Dick shouted to the team.
The heavily armed Toyota Hi lux came out of the side street twenty yards behind them; its bright lights illuminated the interior of the Hyundai.
It was one of two vehicles that they had seen earlier in the night. Bristling with weapons it took up chase.
“Oh ” Dick grimaced.
The two cars bounced along the street, engines whining in protest. Fawkes could clearly see a soldier stood on the flat bed behind the cab, trying to aim the rocket propelled grenade launcher. His fingers hovered over the trigger, just a moment away from sending a missile into the body of the black Hyundai.
“We need to get out of his line of fire!”
The narrow street offered no opportunity to turn off. At the far end of the street the second Toyota appeared, cutting off their escape. The truck came to an abrupt halt. It stood in defiance, engine revving like a panting dog.
“Weapons?” Bond shouted, as he switched his view from truck to truck.
“We’re all done; there’s only your Heckler and the Galil” Fawkes kept the pressure on Juliet’s wound as he nodded toward the guns in Bond’s hands.
“Slow down” Bond shouted to Dick
“What?” he screamed even though he complied. The 4x4 slithered to a stop. The Toyota screamed up behind them.
“Get down Harry” Bond pivoted in his seat and aimed the Heckler. In the sights Bond singled out the driver. Carefully he pulled the trigger and fired through the smashed rear window. The bullets cut through the air, smashing through the windscreen into the cab of the Toyota. Bond watched as the glass blew out. Now the driver was exposed. Bond switched to the sniper rifle.
The Israeli defence department had taken a standard Galil assault rifle, and re-chambered it to 7.62x51mm NATO. They had added a slick little adjustable stock that folded for transport, mounted a bipod to the front of the receiver (as opposed to the barrel), they added a two stage trigger and mounted a scope on the side of the receiver to avoid mounting to the stamped receiver on top the rifle.
Harry Fawkes knew what Bond was planning, the pressure would be immence.
“I’ve yet to get the opportunity to use that rifle, may I?”
“This is my mess, I’ll fix it”
“My first impression is that the gun will perform like an assualt rifle, and not like a true sniper rifle, you may need a couple of sighters”
Bond raised the Galil, putting his eye to the Nimrod sight.
In the glare of the heaplamps Fawkes never saw the Hi lux driver’s head implode, but he knew the spray of death from the Galil had done its job. The Toyota began to veer across the road. Inside the cab the driver’s lifeless body lost control. His dead hands turned the wheel abruptly, and the Hi lux smashed into the wall, the soldier on the back lost his grip on the RPG. The Toyota flipped over and skidded on its side. The sparks ignited the fuel tank, the car exploded.
“But of course I could be proven wrong”
“Lucky shot. OK you can go now” Bond urged Dick.
The tyres on the Hyundai fought for grip, as the 4x4 skidded away from the Toyota. Flames festooned around the smashed vehicle as it slid along the road behind them, the flames reached out like the grim hand of death toward the Hyundai. One of the rockets exploded upward smashing into the building at their side. Then the other rockets ignited from the heat. The first explosion brought down most of the front wall of the building, the second third and fourth totally demolished the building. The impetus of the explosion spurred the burning truck forward. The front of the Toyota slid into the Back of the Hyundai, which skidded from the impact. The two cars danced together along the road, the flames licked at the back of the Hyundai. Dick caught the slide and spun the wheel, the car shot away from the inferno. They tore down the road, hemmed in by apartment blocks on both sides. Behind them the buildings continued to collapse just like a planned demolition. In front of them the second Grenade carrying Toyota blocked their path; its headlights mocked their progress.
“Now what?” Dick asked.
“Now we take the scenic route” Bond jerked his thumb back at the demolished building.
“Nice one Commander” Dick executed the handbrake turn. The Hyundai charged headlong into the smouldering debris of the demolished building.
“Windows shut please” Fawkes shouted as the 4x4 sped through the flames.
Dick spun the wheel and the car jumped over the bricks and plunged through the dusty remains of the apartment block.
As they emerged from the smoke and dust Dick turned sharp right and gunned the accelerator. Two of the tyres were alight.
“We still got to sort out the RPG carrier at the end of here, they’ll be waiting for us you know” Dick nodded toward the end of the street
Bond checked the magazine. Only one round left. One single bullet.
“How much ammo have we got James?” asked Fawkes
“Enough” Answered Bond slamming the magazine back into the gun.
The 4x4 screamed out of the canyon of apartments. The junction they were approaching was controlled by traffic lights.
“Which way? Asked Dick. The Toyota was approaching fast from the right, like a pit-bull high on a blood lust.
“Turn right” shouted Bond “Then stop” The 4x4 screamed around the corner. The red light was ignored.
Dick executed the turn then slammed on the brakes.
“You’re the boss”
Bond opened the door and climbed out of the car; he jumped up on to the grab rail and stood on the roof of the Hyundai. Deliberately he took up station in front of the advancing Toyota.
The driver of the Toyota gritted his teeth, and ducked down behind the steering wheel. The truck headed directly for Bond.
Bond lifted the Galil to his shoulder, the driver was hidden behind the wheel; there was no clear shot. The cross hairs danced around the cab, searching for the target. The Toyota bore down upon them. Bond changed his aim, and fired the final round.
In modern firearms, all bullets come as part of a cartridge.
The cartridge is the combination of the bullet, the propellant, the propellant casing and the firing cap. The bullet itself is placed on top a brass casing that houses the propellant powder, and at the base of the cartridge is the firing cap.
The bullet from the snipers rifle created a small vortex as it covered the distance between the gun and the target. The bullet slammed into the throat of the soldier aiming the RPG. As he buckled under the pain of the bullet, his dying body slid to the bed. His hands remained gripped around the trigger. The RPG now pointed almost vertically. As the pressure exerted by the dead man’s fingers pressed the trigger the rocket looped into the air. From his cab the driver craned his neck to see where the grenade had gone, certainly not into the black Hyundai. The rocket arced into the sky and then plummeted back toward the Toyota. The driver slowed and watched in fascination as the grenade approached his own cab. As if pulled together by magnetism, the grenade homed in on the helpless driver as the truck meandered across the road into the wall. Bond stood like a statue on the roof of the 4x4.
The grenade exploded, engulfing the pick-up in a ball of flame.
Bond jumped back into the 4x4 “Okay the lights are green now”
Carefully Dick manoeuvred the 4x4 past the burning wreck.
“How far to the extraction site?” Fawkes asked as he slapped another medi pack on Tom’s wound.
“Couple of blocks away. How’s Tom?” replied Dick
“He’s doing fine, just drive”
The Hyundai tilted dangerously as it rounded another corner. Here however the local militia were waiting knelt on both sides of the street ready to open fire.
“Oh , don’t these guys ever give up” Dick, knowing they had no ammo, swerved to one side of the street, smashing into the oil drum. The drum flew into the air spraying burning embers all over the men crouched behind it, before they had a chance to fire. Dick swerved back across the street. Then the locals opened fire. Dick swerved back, but this time the 4x4 missed the oil drum. The burning tyre deflated and the car became trapped the gully at the side of the road. In a flash Bond opened the passenger door and pushed over the next drum. It rolled down the road scattering the local men as it kept pace with the burning 4x4 as it sped past.
“Bye bye” Dick waved as he bumped the car out of the gully. And finally made the lunge onto the pavement. They continued to smash into more untended home-made fires burning in oil drums as they made their chaotic way down the street. In their wake, men their clothes burning, ran in disarray, spoiling the aim of other local soldiers.
“Must be shift change over” Dick commented
***
The small park was very quiet and very still in the moonlight. The 4x4 sighed to a stop.
“Where’s that bloody chopper?” Dick jumped from the car and helped Tom to the edge of the flat grass area. Fawkes stood guard at the rear of the Hyundai
Bond carried Juliet. “James you need to prepare yourself, I don’t think she’s gonna…”
Bond glared back at him. Harry knew the thought had never entered into his mind.
In the cool night air the wind began to stir. Silently the four bladed, twin engine UH-60 Black Hawk, medium-lift utility Sikorsky helicopter dropped to the ground. The down draft stirred up the grass.
Dick shouted over his shoulder “Come on guys, time to go home”
Harry looked over at Bond as they began their crouched run to the chopper
“How’s your girl doing Commander?” He knew Bond would never give up hope.
Bond looked down at the peaceful face of Juliet Guggler. Even in the poor light her beauty was undeniable. Her eyes were shut, and the long lashes touched her cheeks, and seemed to light up her skin.
The darker freckles seemed to glow.
“She’s had a hell of a night; but with a good night’s sleep she won’t remember any of this in the morning”
During the night of the 24 May 2011, a series of powerful explosions shook Tripoli after NATO warplanes carried out 20 bombing raids. Witnesses said many of the raids were aimed at the military compound Bab al-Azizia, where Colonel Gaddafi was in residence. Government spokesman Moussa Ibrahim, however, claimed that the NATO warplanes had missed their target, instead striking civilian houses nearby. Libyan government television showed 19 bodies at a hospital. Hospital workers claimed the victims were civilians who were killed by “NATO crusaders”
The following night, there were five large explosions, as the NATO air campaign continued. Air strikes once again targeted the Bab al-Azizia compound. Russia said the raids were a "gross violation" of the resolution, which Moscow did not condone. Large plumes of smoke could be seen drifting over the city. NATO said the large Bab al-Azizia compound was being used by the Gaddafi regime as a base for troops and vehicles to carry out attacks on civilians; Libyan authorities maintained that NATO was trying to kill Gaddafi and the night-time strikes were terrorizing Tripoli residents.
On 28 May 2011, three massive explosions crippled the city’s power supply. Later that night blasts at Gaddafi’s vehicle storage unit, Qasr bin Ghashir accompanied the sound of small arms fire coming from the interior of the compound, along with one brilliant white explosion over the compound.
Libyan officials believed the strikes were NATO attacks. However NATO fiercely denied that the activities were part of their strategy. Russian observers reluctantly confirmed the absence of activity from NATO bases.
On 20 August, the Battle of Tripoli began with uprisings within the city. By 22 August, Bab al-Azizia was surrounded by rebel fighters and repeatedly bombed by NATO jets.
On 23 August, the rebels breached the outer walls of the compound. Subsequently, the forces defending the compound surrendered and rebels poured in; climbing onto the sculpture of the ‘Fist Crushing a U.S. Fighter Plane’.
Despite previous reports that Gaddafi and his family might be inside the compound, they were not found when it fell to the rebels.
By October, it was reported that the land was going to be used as a marketplace and tourist attraction. As the sun rose on the 16th October, the massive walls were demolished by bulldozers.
Work continued until the 30th of October when the compound was finally demolished. The transition government announced new plans to turn the former compound into a park.
On the 5th of November, the first visitors were allowed to enter the land. They flocked into the compound on foot and by car to see the ruins and walk through the underground tunnels.
The once pristine walls were soon full with graffiti. Naturally it was written in the local native script except for two words, which still remain today. Scrawled in English, in what looked like blood were two words. Although difficult to read it was thought that the words were ‘Decree Absolute’
***
‘Spay Cast’ looked like a castle from a fairytale.
Above the bedroom windows, turrets and spires pointed happily toward the clouds. Faint wisps of smoke from the manor’s chimneys reached upward grasping for the summer sky.
The high windows sat beneath sculpted gables amidst the white painted mock Tudor façade.
The sudden death of the former head of MI6, Barbara Mawdsley had been a shock to James Bond; after all it was she that had promoted him to the Double 0 section six years earlier. The bigger shock had come during the reading of her will when the manor ‘Spay Cast’ situated in the heart of Glencoe had been bequeathed to him.
Unquestionably the area was one of Scotland's most historic and scenic glens. The house itself was hued from local materials, it’s presence inspired by the sheer scale and grandeur of its surrounding mountains. The peacefulness seemed only to prick the conscious and beg one to delve into the intrigue of its turbulent past.
Jurgen Hessel’s silver birch Aston Martin DB5 (for which the acquisition, and import were still under scrutiny from the UK customs and excise department) pulled up in front of the house. James Bond, wearing a dark blue ghost stripe suit jumped out. In front of the house was the loch; Bond remembered that M had told him that she had her husband had had it stocked with Atlantic salmon at a cost similar to six month’s salary.
The stillness of the location touched him again, so much so that he found himself walking on tip toes over the gravel drive to reduce the sound of his own foot-steps.
The front door was made from solid oak, with iron hinges hammered into the ancient wood.
Bond slammed the ornate knocker against the well-worn striker plate.
The journey and the anticipation of meeting the staff had blunted his anger over Sir John Green’s decision to take him off the active list, pending the results from the evaluation session. Bond wondered what lay in store for him.
As if in a scene from a gothic horror movie the large heavy door slowly swung open. Bond remembered the one and only other time he’d knocked on the door. M herself had opened it. Now he expected to see a typical old butler beckoning him in.
“Good day to you sir, you’ll be Mister James” The butler beckoned him in.
“That’s right, you must be the butler” Bond had imagined the butler would be smaller and older, but the black suit, white shirt and undertaker’s black tie were spot on. The butler looked to be in his early 60’s. A shock of wild thick silver hair was absently brushed across his broad forehead. His features were large, and honest; portraying a sense of trustworthiness.
“I prefer 'Gamekeeper' or 'Gillie' as my offical title" the stern face softened. "My name is Hanson; but my previous Mistress always called me Robert” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, the accent candid and welcoming.
“Then with your permission, I’d like to do the same” Bond thrust out his hand. Robert shook it without hesitation. The grasp was strong, and the feel could only begin to hint at a life history filled with knowledge.
Robert gave a small bow of his head “Thank-you sir. Welcome to Spay Cast”
“Thank-you” Instantly Bond felt at home.
“Come through” The voice full of excitement. Bond followed Robert through the airy lounge. History hung on every wall.
The archetypical Scottish housekeeper stood by the fireplace. Dark blue cardigan, over a white starched apron. Straight, dark grey hair carefully brushed across her forehead.
The warmth she generated in her blue eyes seemed capable of out-performing any logs that had been placed on the open fire.
“This is my wife, May” Hanson stretched out his hand. May gave a small bow.
The head of a large red dear hung above the stone fireplace its antlers looking as impressive as the piece was obscene. But Bond hardly noticed it.
“Hello May, you must be the house keeper” They to shook hands. The feel of her hand conveyed the coarseness of washing and the deft touch of an expert in the kitchen.
“Hello Mr. James; I’ve heard such a lot about you” Her voice was sing song pleasant, the smile open and warm; but the delivery was as harsh as a disappointed school ma’am.
“From…” Bond searched for the correct address “Your former Mistress?”
“Yes. She was very fond of telling us about your exploits” Her face suddenly hardened, her eyes conveyed another disapproving look, Bond felt quiet intimidated.
“All your exploits…” The smile returned, but without a hint of compromise.
“Come, come now May, Mr. James doesn’t want to dwell on the past”
“I know that Robert; I just wanted him to understand a few house rules” and with that the smile shone through the clouds of disapproval and she left the room.
“They would sometimes take a wee dram together on an evening” Robert’s simple sentence explained how the tales had been passed.
“And you didn’t join them?”
“Certainly not; although the Master and I would sometimes review the cellar”
“The cellar?” Bond asked, trying to keep excitement from his voice.
“The cellar” Robert extended his hand and led Bond toward a small door to the side of the main hallway.
The wooden floor boards creaked in sympathy as they walked across the room.
The smell of polish on wood filled the air adding to the impression of heritage; and the feeling of strength and self-imposed solitude.
***
James Bond sat on the terrace overlooking the fast flowing river behind the property. The hiss and froth of the water cleansed away the stress of the morning, and washed away the taste of the fuzzy memory of the previous night.
Bond checked his phone. Bill Tanner had sent a message. A series of photographs were attached. He opened the first one.
May put the silver breakfast tray onto the table. The bacon and sausage smelt heavenly. Just what he needed to help recover from the previous night.
Bond put down his phone. May picked up the Sony, and looked at the photographs of Juliet Guggler with an approving eye. The pictures had apparently caught the girl unaware, as she wasn’t looking directly into the camera on any of the shots.
“That’s a very pretty lass; will we be seeing your friend here for a stay?”
Bond took the phone from her hand. With a smile he closed the photographs
“No. She’s not a friend; she’s just somebody that I used to know”
“As you wish Mr. James, as you wish”
The phone rang. Bill Tanner’s name was emblazoned across the screen.
“Hello Bill” Bond made a stern face at May. She smiled sarcastically, and made a slow laboured retreat into the house.
“Hello James” The soft tones of Moneypenny were like music to his ear.
“Hello Moneypenny; why?”
The voice laughed back at him “I didn’t think you’d answer it if you knew it was me ringing”
Bond thought it sounded as if the olive branch were being held out.
“Why not” He probed
“Last conversation we had wasn’t exactly loving”
“Well there were mitigating circumstances; but that’s in the past”
“Agreed; shall we move on?”
“Love to; how do you suggest we proceed?” He recalled that on their very first meeting she had subjected him to some seriously flirtatious remarks, that had been four years ago. Their flirtatious banter had gone no further, but they were both happy with the arrangement; until he had died of course. The resurrection hadn’t gone down too well, now he was eager to resume their former relationship.
Monepenny was perhaps just shy of mid-thirties, about 5’ 7” with dark brown hair and the most perfectly rounded cheek bones. Bond loved her Rodean accent; he was sure there was a trace of the Orient in her family background, but no one at MI6 could confirm it.
“Slowly” Her tone was superior with the ever present hint of ‘naughtiness’
“Slowly? You mean like over dinner”
“I mean like the next time you come into the office you can expect to find a friend there”
“Well that’s nice to know” Bond heard the kitchen door open again. Heavy footsteps slowly approached.
“When are we expecting you back at your desk?”
“M has given me the rest of the week to acclimatize to my new surroundings, his way of saying thanks for the appointment with the Doctor”
“Oh yes, I heard you breezed through the evaluation”
Hanson appeared before him. Robert wore the waders and rubber coat of a north Atlantic fisherman. His smile was broad and infectious.
“Then I look forward to seeing you next Monday” The laughed poured through the words.
“Can you wait that long?” Bond injected a tone of lust into the line
“I’ll try. Bye…” The voice rose in pitch; then the line went dead.
Hanson raised his arms to extenuate his outfit.
“I’m just off to catch dinner; should I try to net another for your guest?”
Bond marveled at the couple’s sense of hearing, and understanding of a one sided conversation.
“Not necessary…tonight” Bond added.
“As you wish Mr. James” He turned to trudge down to the river.
“Robert, you’re looking in fine health this morning…”
Hanson laughed. “A few more visits to the cellar; and you will be able to partake in the malt like a true Scot…The breakfast will help though. You enjoy it.”
Bond smiled at the thought.
“You’ll soon be able to leave your hangover at the border”
“I look forward to that”
Hanson stepped down from the patio area.
Bond’s phone began to ring again. His hand retrieved it in a flash; Tanner’s name was emblazoned on the screen.
“I think that must be the shortest wait in history, I’ll make a reservation at the Hawksmoor” the words tumbled easily from his mouth.
“I didn’t know you cared 007” Bill Tanner answered.
“Sorry Bill, wrong number”
“I rang you 007”
“Something like that. How can I help, Bill?”
“That medical and psychological assessment you went through…”
“Yes, what about it?” Bond smarted at the memory. It was perhaps a small indignation to go through, to convince his employers that he was unaffected by Operation Rotunda. And indeed that he was not under the influence of any of the Klivex products. Still he’d found the interviews tiresome.
“Good and bad news I’m afraid”
“Go on”
“The good news is you passed with flying colours. The bad news is it puts you back on the active register again”
“I take that as good too”
“You may have to appraise that view 007. M wants a meeting with you today”
“What time?”
“Don’t worry about that; we’re sending a helicopter to pick you up. He should be there within the next ten minutes”
“Good. What’s the panic?” Bond put a mouthful of bacon into his mouth.
“What do you know about the Stuxnet virus?”
“It was a cyber menace targeted on Iran”
“Yes, it was seen as an apparent bid to disrupt the country's uranium enrichment programme”
“That’s not a bad thing”
“I agree, unfortunately Iran do not. They retaliated yesterday. A number of key Saudi oil facilities went offline after their computer systems suffered a malware attack”
“Cyber warfare”
“Yes. As computers organise and dominate more and more of our world, cyber warfare threats are being taken much more seriously”
“What triggered the panic Bill?”
“GCHQ intercepted messages from a cyber-terrorist group during the week before the Saudis went offline. The messages were all electronically signed ‘Complete Darkness’ they then gave the times and dates, and the GPS locations for the five oil fields”
“Go on”
“Last night, GCHQ intercepted another communication from the same group, the GPS location is London”
“How long have I got?”
“Five days…James, we need you back”
“I never left”
THE END
James BOND will return in…
NEVER THE DEATH
NEVER THE DEATH
The new JAMES BOND novel
by Paul TAYLOR
Coming 2013
EDGE OF TREASON