NEVER THE DEATH by Paul Taylor
hackett
Odds change the numbers remainPosts: 197MI6 Agent
Ian Fleming's James Bond 007
NEVER THE DEATH
By
PAUL TAYLOR
NEVER THE DEATH
By
PAUL TAYLOR
Comments
NEVER THE DEATH
By
Paul Taylor
Synopsis
Tensions rise following a cyber-attack upon Saudi Arabian oilfields
by the terrorist group ‘Complete Darkness’
When London is next targeted,
James Bond is dispatched to eliminate the threat.
Following his only lead Bond journeys to Japan.
Here he learns that the technological modern World
is soon to be threatened by a criminal genius.
Escaping certain death at the hands of Yakuza assassins,
Bond travels to Africa to foil a plot to start a nuclear war.
Bond’s task is simple, stop the cyber-attacks and prevent
World War Three.
PART ONE
Each day is full of gratitude
…and tomorrow one seeks hope
In the rising of the Sun
Chapter 1
Detour
DUNGUAIRE Castle, Galway, Ireland.
5 days to Complete Darkness
A sudden gust of wind picked up the slack in the Irish tricolour and the mighty flag billowed atop the pole cracking it like a whip. The man in the black woolly hat lowered his binoculars, and activated his ‘in ear’ communications devise.
“Helicopter approaching from the North East - Out”
Seventy five feet below the man in the tower’s vantage point the similarly attired recipient of the message began to scan the skies. After a moment he saw the machine. Instantly he mustered his men into action.
“They’re coming, let’s prepare the welcoming committee”
Two black clad men pulled on their helmets and started their Honda quad bikes. Their leader jumped onto the back of one and together they rode out of Dunguaire Castle.
The 16th-century tower on the south-eastern shore of Galway Bay had witnessed many bloody battles over the centuries but the scars of conflict had been lovingly restored to an excellent condition over the past ten years. Normally the grounds are open to tourists during the summer, and the castle is thought to be the most photographed castle in Ireland, but not today.
The two quad bike riders bisected the other armed guards patrolling the castle perimeter on their ride to the make shift landing site.
***
In the passenger compartment of the Westland WS-61 Sea King helicopter, James Bond reviewed the instructions on the screen of his iPad. The diversion on Bond’s journey from Glencoe to London was apparently only going to add one hour onto the journey time.
Fortunately Bond had eaten a hearty, if not too healthy breakfast at his home, as the thought of lunch at Vauxhall Cross had not filled him with delight.
The Rolls-Royce Gnome engines dropped in pitch, and the Sea King, which was primarily designed for performing anti-submarine warfare missions, began to drop from the sky.
James Bond pulled the rope handled wooden crate closer to him. The soft undulation of the landing gear hitting the ground told him he was once again back on terra firma.
The door was pulled open, and the two black clad helmeted aliens beckoned the passenger from the helicopter. James Bond jumped out. The two black clad guards pushed past him and pulled out the padlocked crate.
They placed the crate on the ground. The lead guard gestured to Bond for the key.
“I need to check it” His accent was East European.
Bond dropped the key into his hand
“It’s all there”
Quickly he opened the crate and rummaged through the oil paintings which were rolled up within. The guard rummaged through them with the air of a man who knew absolutely nothing about oil paintings. Without finesse he stood up, slamming the lid shut back on the crate.
“It’s all there, get the car” He spoke into his ear piece.
One of the other guards searched Bond and removed his gun. Neatly he tucked it inside his own black wax jacket.
“Worried about something are we now?” His accent by contrast to his leader was pure Dublin.
“You can never be too careful” Bond replied without looking at the man.
The Lead guard gestured for the helicopter to take off.
“Okay you two take him up to the castle” The helicopter rose into the sky.
Bond was escorted over to the quad bikes. As the Sea King turned away, Bond noticed a car approaching across the fields. Bond slowed, delaying his journey to the castle.
A sea green Land Rover Defender 110 pulled up on the ground recently vacated by the helicopter. The driver hurried to the back and opened the door so that the lead guard could load the crate into the back.
From the back of the quad bike Bond turned to look back at the action
“That crate should be coming with me”
The lead guard waved them away. Above the roar of the engines he shouted after them
“Change of plan” His laughter faded as the Sea King roared over them.
The two guards took Bond up the road and into the castle. Bond counted ten more mercenaries patrolling the grounds on the short bumpy journey.
***
Inside the castle grounds the quad bikes stopped and the engines fell silent. The guards and Bond dismounted. Bond pressed the wind button on his Omega Planet Ocean, sending a high pitch signal to their communications devises. Together the guards reached for their ears, trying to remove the ‘in ear’ devises.
Bond overpowered the first guard with a punch to the solar plexus, but as he was disposing the first man the second guard ripped off his helmet, and pulled out the ‘in ear’ communicator. In one smooth movement he pulled out Bond’s own gun on him. Sadistically he aimed and pulled the trigger, but the Walther didn’t fire. The man looked down incredulously at the gun. Bond stepped in and twisted the gun from his hand.
“I think you’ll find this is mine” Bond shot the guard with the gun fitted with a micro-dermal sensor in the grip so that only Bond could fire it.
***
Inside one of the well-furnished rooms in the castle a man heard the shot. His thick bushy wiry eyebrows raised as his senses heightened at the sound of the shot. Springing up from the lavishly upholstered green leather wing back chair he crossed the room to a large Jacobean desk.
His thin brown fingers grasped the ornate brass handle, and he pulled opened a drawer in the desk and gently extracted a Beretta. With gun in hand he nervously went to the door, but the door flew open in his face.
A Walther PPK pressed against his forehead. Bond pushed him back into the room
"A Walther PPK, I only know of one man who carries that gun with such confidence. You must be James Bond" The man said fretfully, his thin winy Asian voice sounded like finger nails down a blackboard.
"And you must be Tamerai Kahani. Put your gun down Kahani"
"Of course. If I had known it was you, Mister Bond. I promise you I would never have…" He stopped talking and dropped the gun. The white teeth emerged from behind his thin lips.
"Let’s cut the pleasantries shall we? Where’s the weapon?"
“No weapons here Mister Bond; oh no” His hands opened at his sides, comically lifting the hem of his jacket. His dark brown eyes danced behind a false smile.
“I’ve been told that you’re looking after some hardware for the Complete Darkness terrorist group”
"Sorry Mister Bond the Alphanox is not here. It’s been moved on!"
“I thought we had a deal?” Bond made a mental note on the word ‘Alphanox’
"Ah! You need to know about the deal breaker" The eyelids blinked over the dark brown eyes.
Bond pushed the gun against Kahani’s forehead
"Deal breaker?"
The unforgiving cold mouth of a gun pressed against the nape of Bond’s neck. Kahani raised his thick bushy eyebrows and gestured to behind Bond…
“Meet the deal breaker Mister Bond”
Kahani picked up the Beretta from the carpet and pushed past Bond taking the PPK from his hand as he went past. “Thank-you” he said in a sing song tone. Bond turned to see a dark haired East European girl holding a gun at his face. Her piercing blue eyes were completely focused on her target.
Kahani placed his hand upon the girl’s shoulder. The long thin dark fingers curled over the smooth silk material of her green jacket.
“I’ve had a better offer from my good friend Kaija Kuld. I like her currency”
“Pure gold” Bond translated the name from Estonian
“Deal’s off Mister Bond. Hands off, please Mister Kahani” The girl hissed at them.
“That’s a shame, I brought all the paintings you asked for” Bond watched as Kahani quickly removed his hand from the girl’s shoulder. It was clear their arrangement was not yet fully cemented. Room for Bond to negotiate. He pressed forward.
“I’ll double the offer” Bond looked directly at Kahani; he wanted to understand just how far he could push the situation.
“Off the top of my head Mister Bond I can’t think of any more old masters I’d like to hang on my walls” Kahani laughed awkwardly.
“We could go through the paintings now…if you want” Bond angled his head.
“Not to make you feel bad Mister Bond. But I’m going to take them all anyway”
“Ah well at least my journey wasn’t a total waste then” Bond smiled sarcastically
Kahani and Kaija backed out of the room together.
“Goodbye Mr. Bond” Kahani said as he wiggled his thin fingers. The heavy wooden door shut. And locked.
Bond instantly scanned the room, looking for an escape route. Quickly he went to the window. The bars on the window were new he tested the resolve. They had obviously been applied well after the 16th century, but were none the less a resolute deterrent to entering or leaving the castle by this route.
Bond was about to move when from his vantage point high in the castle he saw Kahani and Kaija emerge from the castle and go down the dirt track to the sea green Land Rover. She walked like a model he bounded at her side like a playful puppy.
As he watched their progress Bond carefully pulled a ‘cotton thread’ thin wire from the body of his wrist watch and wrapped the powerful explosives around each of the bars on the window.
At the Land Rover Kahani opened the back door, and beckoned Kaija inside.
Bond continued to wrap the explosive wire around the bars. As he did so he observed Kaija casually lift her gun and shoot Kahani three times. Shocked Kahani stumbled forward and slid down her body. Kaija stepped backward and let the body fall.
Bond stood back, and pressed the button on the watch. The bars exploded, and fell off; jingling and clanging on the floor. Bond opened the window and prepared to jump.
At the Land Rover Kahani now lay dead on the floor. Oblivious to the explosion from the castle Kaija looked at the blood on her lime green silk jacket. With slow determination she stroked her finger in the blood; and then raised her finger to her lips. Her small pink tongue darted out and licked the blood. She shuddered, and then smiled sadistically. Only then did she look up at the window to observe Bond as he prepared to jump.
Her eyes remained focused on Bond as she casually tossed the gun onto the back seat and tore the jacket from her body. With disdain Kaija held out her arm and dropped the blood soaked jacket over Kahani’s body.
Kaija jumped into the back of the car. The engine roared and the wheels fought for grip as it drove away.
Bond calculated his moment then jumped from of the window, down onto a passing guard, knocking him off his quad bike.
"Mind if I borrow this?" Bond said to the unconscious guard, as he took the guard’s Uzi 9mm machine pistol, and climbed onto the quad bike. Bond engaged gear and rode off after the Land Rover. Bond took the quad bike high on the rise. It was the longer route, but he needed to keep his distance from the guards at the castle, there ineffective gunfire was falling well short. Bond climbed the rise. At the crest he scanned the horizon. For a second he thought he’d lost her then saw the Land Rover rushing through the trees of a copse, about two hundred metres away.
Bond opened the throttle and shot off after the Land Rover.
The quad bike took off over a small hillock, and then skidded through a muddy gully, the engine roared in his ears. Bond could see the Land-rover had turned away from the direction he’d first seen it going; he needed to follow it through the copse. The bike skirted the small copse until Bond could see some sort of pathway. Then, without hesitation he plummeted into the bushes. Bond opened the throttle. The branches whipped past his head. Bond jinked and twisted the bike, negotiating stumps and branch tangles, the bike took off. Bond went down a steep gully, then gunned the throttle to quickly climb up the other side. The quad bike roared over the top; landing in a squeal of brakes and tyres. The Land Rover was just ahead now. A quick flick of the brake light and the car turned once again, drifted away down a slope. Bond dropped a gear and swerved to follow.
The Land Rover erupted from the trees, moments later Bond flew from the copse in pursuit. The land was open here; a gentle slope meandered away to the left, for about fifty metres, and then disappeared. Further away Bond saw the land rise up; he estimated the land on both sides met in a dip, possibly a river bed. Bond angled in behind the Land Rover. The driver side window opened and a spray of bullets from another Uzi machine gun filled the air with instant death. Bond tucked in behind the car. He could see the girl looking back at him.
The odd outcrop of rocks to the right-hand side, but a deep ripple in the land to the left. Bond need to guess which side he should attempt to pass.
“Going left” Bond gunned the throttle, and pulled along-side the passenger side of the Land Rover. The driver looked across at him and smiled sarcastically, lifting the Uzi again. Bond smiled back and raising his own gun shot him first. The Land Rover veered left. Bond dropped the Uzi and squeezed on the brakes. Together they slid down the steep bank. The car was going to topple over at any moment. Bond gunned the quad bike down the slope, angling away from the doomed car. The Land Rover careered down the bank and flipped over crashing over the rough ground. The slope got steeper, and the car flipped over again finally coming to rest on it’s roof against a tree at the side of a fast running river. Bond slid the bike to a halt and rushed down to the crashed Land Rover.
As the wheels revolved slowly in the air, flames were already growing from the grill and engine compartment. Bond smelt that the diesel tank had already ruptured. Now, there is a myth that diesel doesn’t burn like petrol. Bond knew that if you throw diesel on to a small flame like a candle the flame would go out because the mass of diesel would cool the wick and quench the flames.
But a tank full on a hot engine? Stand back. Once diesel starts to volatize at 200-300 degrees C, the vapors burn just as well as petrol vapors do. Bond knew he had only moments before the Land Rover exploded. He opened the rear door.
Kaija hung from her seat belt. The crate had smashed through the rear seat, and now lay on the roof of the car. Bond pulled the crate from the car.
“Can you move?” Bond asked the girl.
“I can’t breathe” She whispered
The flames were now mixed with black oily smoke. The fluids in the engine were well and truly alight.
The floor and fuel tank had burst and diesel was dripping down into the rear compartment just a few inches from her body.
“Let’s get you out” Bond crawled into the tangled mess of the Land Rover.
“Help me” Her eyes were dull and filled with tears. Her forehead was gashed.
The stench of diesel filled the cramped compartment, the acrid black smoke cut out the light from the front of the car. Bond was in the middle of the cabin, he reached up to detach Kaija from the belt. Whilst his arms were fully extended Kaija brought the gun up into his chest, it’s cold mouth nuzzled into him. Her eyes suddenly began to burn bright, even angels have their wicked schemes.
“Where do we go from here Mister Bond? Back to London for hours and hours of interrogation and then torture?”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Just tell me who you work for. Tell me what you know about Alphanox, and the Complete Darkness group. I’ll get you out of here then you can make your own way home”
“What do you know of my home?” She spat, her eyes challenging him.
“I think it’s pretty similar to mine” Their eyes met “We do things that other people can’t, and won’t do. Tell me what I need to know then get out of here”
“You’ll let me go, just like that. I’m supposed to believe you?” Her eyes tried to seek the truth in Bond’s.
“Make your mind up” He said calmly. The flames were billowing from the engine compartment, the pops and crackles spurred on the building heat of the fire, Bond felt the heat against his skin.
Kaija lowered the gun. Bond reached up and tried to lever the seat belt open. The buckle itself was twisted in the holder. Bond pulled on the belt, but the pretension was holding her tight. A loud bang from the engine resulted in a cascade of sparks. The movement rocked the upturned chassis, and deformed the ruptured floor even more. The droplets of diesel came down faster, and ran along the crack and began to pitter patter down upon Kaija’s shoulder. Her eyes sought an escape.
“Hold me” Bond said urgently. He put his arms out. Kaija dropped the gun and wound her arms around him. Bond pulled at her body, but her injuries made her scream. Oblivious to her injuries Bond continued to pull her. The fuel was dripping constantly onto her neck and back.
Her breath came in short heart felt pants, but he continued to pull. Then inevitably, the pain became too much. Bond eased her back, and let go.
“I’m stuck” She whimpered. The smoke seeped in through the cracks in the windscreen. Kaija frantically looked around her small piece of hell. Instead of panic taking hold of her an inner calm descended over her. The fire had taken hold of the entire front half of the Defender.
“You better go” she coughed, her eyes pleaded with him. The effort induced more pain; silent tears ran down her face. The first drop of diesel silently infused in her hair, as it touched her scalp her face betrayed the futility of his efforts.
“Go now” She pleaded
“No” Bond tugged at the belt with a renewed effort “Who’s behind this, what do you know of the Complete Darkness group. What is Alphanox?” His hands tore at the seat belt buckle.
“I don’t know. The money appears in my bank account overnight. They appear to be able to bug any phone and hack any computer. No one is safe. No door can be locked. Even if you get me out of here they will come for me” She pleaded.
“What is Alphanox?” Bond adjusted his hold upon her. He felt the diesel soaking through his sleeves and into his arms.
“Truly I don’t know. I thought it was some kind of computer programme that infected other computers” The smell of the fuel filled the air.
“A virus?” Bond saw more drops hitting her head.
“At first I thought so, but it is something physical. Kahani was looking after it”
“What was your part of the deal?” Bond hammered the seat belt mounting with the butt of her gun.
“I was hired to kill Kahani” She saw the flames pouring into the front compartment.
“Why?” Bond smashed the gun against the bolt, like a demented lumberjack.
“Because he was doing a deal with you. He had the Alphanox here this morning”
“But it was moved on” Bond said remembering Kahani’s own words
“Yes. He thought he was going to be safe too” A pitiful smile crossed her face.
“We can hide you” Bond interrupted her thoughts, and shouted above the effort of his movement. With all his strength he issued one more mighty blow. The bolt sheered and the buckle came free, Kaija dropped to the roof of the car. Bond held her, lowering her to the roof. Quickly he kicked open the door closest to the river and crawled out, his knees crushed against the tiny pieces of broken glass. It crunched like ice beneath him. Bond swivelled around in order to pull Kaija from the car. His hand reached out for her, his eyes urged her to move. A dull blue flame crept from in-between the front seats. The upholstery began to burn. If the flames ignited the fuel she would be gone in a second. Kaija saw the fire encroach.
“Come on, I can pull you free” Bond urged
“I don’t think you can”
“We can protect you from these terrorists”
“Complete Darkness? I don’t think so” In her hand she held a small silver cigarette lighter. Her thumb depressed the trigger. A small flame appeared. The fuel ignited.
Bond leapt from his position, arching his back he shallow dived into the river as Kaija tossed the lighter into the rear compartment of the car. The Land Rover exploded in a ball of flame. Her scream was loud but very short lived.
The cold enveloping water closed over his body. The shock brought him back to life. Bond began to crawl along the bed of the river, his hands brushing through the reeds and over the small river bed stones. Above him the ball of flames sucked at he air and lifted the water up to fill the void. The river’s current took him down river for about twenty meters. Bond surfaced and took a large gulp of air. He looked back at the inferno which had once been the Land Rover. The thick black smoke billowed from the wreck pushed upward by enraged orange flames.
Slowly Bond crawled out of the river and lay on the bank. Low on the horizon the Sea King was making it’s way back toward him.
Bond made the climb to the top of the bank, the wind chilled him. Grass and small particles of dirt whizzed around him as the Helicopter landed. Bond squinted against the whirlwind and made a fast crouched run across the space and flung himself into the body of the Sea King. He closed the door, and the rotors changed in pitch, the machine took off. Bond checked his watch he’d only been on the ground for twenty minutes.
The Sea King made a slow lazy turn over the burning wreck of the Land Rover, and headed south east, toward London.
Ball and Chain
Cape Town, South Africa.
Pollsmoor Maximum Security Prison.
5 days to Complete Darkness.
“Nelson Mandela once described Pollsmoor prison as epitomizing Oscar Wilde's haunting line about the tent of blue that prisoners call the sky” prison governor Robert Courtney gesticulated elaborately at the patch of clear azure blue that hung above the south exercise yard.
The large rotund face of the Minister of Defense, Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula momentarily looked up, then smiled sympathetically back at him. Not impressed with his theatrics she set her head at a jaunty angle that said ‘lead on please’.
“Pollsmoor is a maximum security prison with little means in the way of escape” the entourage entered the administration block. The chill of the air-conditioning took away the burn of the sun, and raised the blonde hair and goose pimples on Robert Courtney’s freckled arms.
Madam Mapisa-Nqakula dutifully nodded at the proud boast.
“We also are very proud of our 100% none re-offend record” The sweat evaporated from his brow, this thin lips drawn back in a smile.
“That’s because most of your inmates are in here for life, Mr. Courtney” Her furrowed brow hurt his integrity and wiped the smile from his face.
“Some of South Africa's most dangerous criminals and roughest gangsters are held here, Madam Mapisa-Nqakula. You make it sound like a bad thing”
“Not at all Mr. Courtney. I am simply stating a fact”. Her brows raised, willing him to respond.
Undeterred Courtney continued toward the hub of the admin block. His well-practiced speech continued…
“The prison has a staff of 1,278 and the capacity to accommodate 4,336 offenders” Courtney was forced to halt as he realized he was walking alone, his guest of honour had stopped in her tracks. She looked at him with an air of disbelief. Courtney floundered at the sound of the words he hoped he would not have to respond to.
“How many prisoners are there here today Mister Courtney?”
“However today the current inmate population is just over 7,000”
“Most of which are black?” Her voice was harsh.
Courtney avoided the direct answer, he dipped his shoulder and walked away, his voice lingered like a bad smell in the room
“A figure which fluctuates daily. Most inmates are awaiting trial, which can take up to four years”
In an intense silence they entered the IT suite on the fourth floor of the admin block. The electronic whir of the fans buzzed through the air.
“And finally our ‘Piece de resistance” The thin smile returned to Courtney’s face.
Madam Mapisa-Nqakula observed the twin banks of monitors that filled two of the walls, their screens relaying live scenes from all over the prison. In-between the two banks of monitors was a single large window which looked out upon the main courtyard. Everything smelled of pine disinfectant.
“Here minister, is where you learn the secret of our success” Courtney pointed at the monitors, and then led the party between them.
“CCTV?” Cynicism crept into her voice.
“No. More than just TV. Much more than you can imagine. Some time ago the wardens could patrol only certain areas of the prison” He pointed to a screen that showed an inmate walking along a corridor. His finger traced around the convict.
“Behind the steel doors the convicts themselves were in charge, they had their own hierarchy, their own laws. The death rate was alarming. In 1986, 28 prisoners went berserk and revolted killing 14 guards. Now the most vicious and violent of the gangs is called 28 in their honour. Here in the maximum security wing all the floors and walls are all constructed with an interlaced metal mesh” Courtney guided the minister to one of the men sitting at a desk top “Perhaps you would be good enough to provide a demonstration” Courtney did not refer to the man by name.
The young black man looked up at Madam Mapisa-Nqakula, he cleared his throat.
“A magnetic field may be represented by a mathematical description of the influence of electric currents and magnetic materials. The magnetic field at any given point is specified by both a direction and a magnitude (or strength). The magnetic field is most commonly defined in terms of the Lorentz force it exerts on moving electric charges”
Madam Mapisa-Nqakula peered closer at the monitor, the key-board operator’s hands flashed over the keyboard. Suddenly the man on the screen stopped moving. He became literally rooted to the spot.
“He has magnets in his boots” Courtney said triumphantly. He pushed a strand of blonde hair back in place.
“Magnetic fields are produced by moving electric charges. In special relativity, electric and magnetic fields are two interrelated aspects of a single object”
“It’s called the electromagnetic tensor” Courtney gestured for the man to continue
“The split of the tensor into electric and magnetic fields depends on the relative velocity of the observer and charge. In quantum physics, the electromagnetic field is quantized and electromagnetic interactions result from the exchange of photons”
“You mean they can’t move” The minister simplified the answer
“The twenty first centuries answer to the ball and chain”
“It’s barbaric” She straightened up, and sniffed the air.
“No, it’s necessary to ensure that nobody escapes from here”
“Can’t they just remove their boots?”
“No” Courtney’s word had the finality of a hangman. “We are impregnable; no one can escape from here” His eyes shone above his thin smile.
The alarm cut through his gloating. The man on the PC feverishly prodded the keyboard. Madam Mapisa-Nqakula watched in horror as more and more of the monitor screens filled with a stampede of inmates racing across the monitors.
Suddenly, beside them smoke seeped from the cooling vents on a desk top, the smell of burning plastic flooded their senses. In a brilliant shower of sparks a computer burst into flame.
The operators doused the fire with foam. Courtney and Mapisa-Nqakula looked on expectedly, their eyes fixed upon the action in the room. But the real danger was behind them. The whole room began to shake.
The window filled with the descending form of a pale grey Mil Mi-17 helicopter. The noise from the engines drowned out all activities within the IT suite.
The Mil Mi-8/17 is a medium twin-turbine transport helicopter that can also act as a gunship. To prove the fact the ‘50 cal’ frame mounted Barrett barked it’s death speech on the guards in the south tower. Masonry shattered and broke away from the body of the tower, the whole fabric of the wall crumbled under the onslaught of the gun. The tower began to collapse…
“…The guns won’t respond” The man at the keyboard was shouting. Courtney looked at the monitor he was pointing to. The monitors showed that the computer controlled guns in the guard towers were resolutely pointing toward the ground. But it was another monitor that had now caught his attention.
Courtney watched in horror as a thin man with over long steel grey hair strolled across the courtyard. He was bare foot, and the pale skin of his feet matched that of his hands and face, which was in stark contrast to his dark blue prison uniform. The jacket hung from his skeletal frame. Unable to look away, Courtney held on to the monitor with both hands as he watched the thin man calmly climb on board the helicopter.
“Wilund” Courtney whispered. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek.
Behind Courtney, in real life the Mi-17 now rose in front of the window. The thin man with unruly steel grey hair could clearly be seen within the body of the machine. Courtney ran to the window, his palms pressed against the glass, behind him another computer exploded, and then another. The next moment saw all the monitors erupt like a volcano blowing it’s top, projecting razor sharp pieces of glass and plastic throughout the room.
Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula fell to the floor. Courtney was swept aside from the window. Within the body of the Mil the man known as Wilund smiled, and gently waved goodbye.
Outside the electrified prison fence two units of the Special Task Force were thwarted by their own electronic gates. The code pads simply refused to give them access. In frustration they watched powerless as the helicopter rose into the blue sky.
Most government residences in South Africa are guarded by members of the division's Special Guard Unit. Today the divisions at Pollsmoor were all hand-picked volunteers, all were experts in handling hostage situations and other high-risk activities, but now all were powerless to stop the escape.
With growing frustration they watched the Mil fade from view. Then without warning they were forced to duck for cover as the prison exploded, massive chunks of stone were propelled across the court yard. The police dogs barked in vain as the hole blown in the wall was soon filled with hundreds of fleeing prisoners. The men were armed with the most primitive of weapons, such as rocks and iron bars. Their revenge and lust for blood was soon satisfied as they overran the Special Guard Unit position.
Like a surfer riding the crest of a wave a dark blue Mercedes S class sped away from the prison. The car quickly outran the mob as they spilled out on to the long road to freedom. The twin plumes of dust kicked up by the car hung in the hot stale air.
More than money
MI6 HQ Vauxhall cross, London.
4.5 days to Complete Darkness.
Gareth Mallory, chairman of the intelligence and security committee entered M’s office. With the eyes of a predator and the grace of a dancer he honed in on M. Mallory nodded curtly to Bill Tanner then quietly smiled as he handed over the daily newspaper to M.
“It would seem that cyber warfare is fast becoming the dominant element in every country’s military arsenal” Mallory sat down and crossed his legs. The silence hung like a thunder cloud waiting to burst.
M threw the newspaper down on the desk, and steadied himself for his reply. Bill Tanner quickly closed the burgundy leather padded office door, hoping his action would cosset them all in a cocoon of temporary safety.
‘MI6 powerless’ the bold newspaper headline mocked them with the sensitivity of the information the lead story contained.
“Experts would confirm that the intelligence…” Tanner began, but M silenced him with a look of finality. Kicking back his chair he stormed over to the window. As he spoke the glass steamed up from his passionate breath.
“Judging from the news over the past day or so, everyone’s an expert” Sir John Green rested his palms against the window and studied a large tug boat as it strained to tow a heavily laden barge under Vauxhall bridge. Recently he felt his own position as head of MI6 seemed strangely similar. Now he was being squeezed by both the Foreign Secretary and the intelligence and security committee. The barge slid from view…
Mallory broke the uneasy silence…
“Over the past few days there’s been a flurry of intelligence related to cyber warfare. Unfortunately the channel that transfers it is easily accessible to the news media”
“Then what the hell are we paying our people at GCHQ to do?”
‘Touché’ thought Tanner although he said nothing. M continued…
“It was the anti-virus firm Kaspersky that discovered Iran’s nuclear program had been under attack. Not our boffins in Cheltenham”
“They’ll always be reasons; we just have to ensure they’re not excuses. I didn’t note any complaints when they gave us the Saudi intel…” Mallory gave a measured response.
“…Oh yes we got on to the Saudi problem quickly enough. But only after the perpetrators told us when and where they were going to attack” M’s voice rose.
“It was more than any of your field operatives were able to ascertain” Mallory countered. Gently he smoothed his hair back over his ear.
“The Saudi oil fields were brought to a standstill, and even though Complete Darkness told us they were going to do it, we were powerless to stop it happening. Our intelligence actually thought it was an Iranian retaliation, and because of that, that’s where my field operatives were looking”
“The first wave of intelligence was rather spurious” Confirmed Tanner
“They even said the Iranians had given the virus it’s name ‘Flame’” M pointed back at the newspaper. His finger dabbed the headline.
“Effectively it turns every computer it infects into a spy; The New York Times reported that yesterday! Then we thought it was the Stuxnet worm again” M said in a sarcastic mocking voice. He picked up the newspaper and shook it.
“And what intelligence did we discover this morning?” M inclined his head, suggesting Tanner should give the known response. But M himself continued…
“That Iran and the Saudis were both attacked by the same cyber terrorist group”
“It is difficult to keep this information undercover Sir” Tanner tried to ease the problem.
Gareth Mallory lent forward, his hands spread before him.
“When NATO held its latest International Conference on Cyber Conflict, it published everything. Now Malaysia is about to host its own conference on cyber warfare…”
M rushed in “…Then perhaps I should be asking them how to halt the threat that now faces Britain?”
“I was going to suggest that we send someone to liaise with their experts”
M sat at his desk. Calm before the storm. He hit the intercom and spoke to his ever present PA.
“Miss Moneypenny. Would you send Q in please?”
“Yes sir” The upper class English accent breezed through the intercom.
A moment later Q entered the office. M held up the newspaper.
“This must be about Complete Darkness” Q un-buttoned his thick Harris Tweed jacket. “I trust we are taking their threat seriously?” he said enthusiastically.
“Yes we are” Mallory spoke confidently.
“It would appear so Q. Please, can you explain to us what you know about this terrorist group?”
“They’re using the latest weapon at their disposal”
“That’s vague. Can you say what this terrorist group is really up to? Why would they attack Iran on behalf of the Saudis and then facilitate the retaliation. Surely there can’t be any longevity to their escapades if they continuously bite that hand that feeds them. Tell me this is just a fad” Mallory asked
Q looked to M for permission to reply. In response M lent back in his chair and steepled his fingers
“Sorry Mister Mallory, but I don’t think it is just a fad. I believe there’s good reason for the rising interest in cyber warfare. After all, there are many appealing aspects to the Countries governing bodies. Instead of wreaking mass destruction and snuffing out human life, countries can attack virtual targets in cyberspace. An aggressor state does not need to expose its own troops to the dangers of conventional or unconventional warfare, thus avoiding casualties and spending millions. Let’s face it the difficulty Western societies have coping with casualties is immense…” Q paused to check that his audience agreed
“…And since cyber weapons can be deployed anonymously from a distance, the aggressor doesn’t risk political fallout, let alone absorbing a retaliatory attack”
“I can relate to that” Mallory melted back into his chair. His superior tone seemed to enrage Sir John.
“That’s true, but what do they stand to gain?” By asking a simple question Tanner hoped to calm his boss down.
“Stand to gain? They’re hackers… What do all hackers want? Like all craftsmen, hackers like to play with their new toys. In fact, that's an understatement. Good hackers find it unbearable to use bad tools. What do they want? They want to show off. They want to prove that they are better than us. That’s what they stand to gain”
“How do we stop them Q?” M asked
“Make it boring for them. Divert their attention. For god sake don’t fight them; they’ll just keep coming back trying to go one up against GCHQ. What we need to do is make the outcome useless. They'll simply refuse to work on projects with the wrong infrastructure. After all they are not trying to invade a country, they are just trying to get one over on other hackers” Q thought that everybody understood the premise.
“They’re terrorists Q, not IT specialists for god sake” M bristled.
Q continued with the counter point “I disagree; cyber warfare seems so bloodless and ‘clean’ that there hardly appear to be any real ethical dilemmas with which politicians can grapple. There won’t be any votes gained on bringing these geeks to justice I can tell you”
“So we just ignore them is that it?” M’s face was turning red.
Q shook his head; he crossed his legs and grasped his knee with his interlaced hands, rocking gently back and forth.
“No. It’s another threat that we have to learn how to deal with, trouble is that as long as the public don’t seem affected by the attacks the government funding to combat it won’t be made available”
“This isn’t about a moral philosophy concerned with limiting human casualties and physical damage. This is about destroying the economy of a nation. And, if we are to believe this ‘Complete Darkness’ group it’s our nation they are going to attack” Mallory allowed the comment to hang in the air, hoping to incite some motivation.
“They want to steal more than money. The damage to the Saudi economy was minimal, but the devastation to the oil companies was huge. It’s those companies that dictate where the funding goes. Every oil company CEO will be arranging a golf tournament or a splash up dinner with their pet MP’s to discuss when they can increase the price of oil to the UK” M wiped his brow.
Q looked at Tanner his face showed concern for his boss
“When warfare is waged using a piece of code against some intangible objects, without directly causing casualties or physical damage, the anthropocentric principles of Just War Theory hardly seem to apply” Q un-crossed his legs, his hands, now free from restraint began to flutter. Tanner continued the conversation
“Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to claim that cyber warfare can be conducted without a consideration of its moral limits. For instance, if it knocks out electricity and the refrigeration necessary to protect supplies, even a modest cyber-attack could lead to starvation and the suffering of thousands of the innocent”
As Q spoke his eyes darted from M to Tanner, his hands moved in sympathy. Q always spoke quickly, but very clearly.
“Or if a cyber-attack disables an air traffic control tower, it could lead to a plane crash and real deaths. And even if ‘only’ intangible targets are wiped out, it could have far-reaching consequences”
“Exactly Q. Advanced economies, especially in fields such as business and property services, communications, finance and insurance, depend for their functioning and growth on information-based, intangible assets” Mallory added
“That’s right; my good friend Tan Lim Tong of the University of Kuala Lumpur has estimated that in highly developed countries as much as 70 percent of GDP depends on intangible goods. An attack on these intangibles could result in a major economic crisis with potential lethal consequences. Therefore, it is absolutely imperative that the international community draft an up to date moral code”
“Moral code my ass. We have intelligence that indicates your friend Tan Lim Tong is up to his scrawny cyber neck in this ‘Complete Darkness’ group”
“Well he’s more of an acquaintance than a friend actually” Q responded.
If looks could kill M would have been responsible for Q’s death right then and there.
“But he’s more likely to concede to a meeting with you than any of our other so called Western experts. Am I right?” Mallory asked
“Probably” Q felt justified in his response.
“Good, that’s why you’re going to the Malaysian conference” Mallory said. Q looked to M.
“Yes, we would like you to go to Malaysia” M confirmed
***
Miss Moneypenny was sitting at her desk when James Bond entered the office.
“James, good to see you. I’ve just picked up an irate message from a very agitated man at the National Gallery. Is there anything I should know about the paintings we borrowed?”
Bond looked indignant and went around the desk to sit with Moneypenny
“Nothing I can think of”
Moneypenny put up her hands to fend off Bond’s charm offensive
“Oh no you don’t. You’re to go straight in”
“What mood is he in?” Bond retreated around the desk
“Um, let me think. Prickly”
“Prickly?”
“Yes, so save all your charm for him” Moneypenny gave an innocent smile
Bond stood at the door his hand on the handle. Suddenly he looked back
“Don’t move. If I have any charm left when I come out of here, I’ll be using it on you. Maybe dinner tonight?”
As if she hadn’t heard the words Moneypenny continued to busy herself at the desk. Bond opened the door and entered, just as Moneypenny sarcastically said...
“I can’t wait”
***
Q preened himself. He was going on a mission, a field mission.
“What are my field objectives, sir?” He spoke directly to M
“Establish if Tan Lim Tong is involved with Complete Darkness”
The hands fluttered like a bird’s wing, Q ran his tongue over his lips savouring the mission like a fine meal.
“Then what?” He almost sang
“Then nothing. If needed to, your field colleague will then take over; and do whatever is necessary to avoid this computer game spilling over into a real war. Remember the clock is ticking, we have just five days until our lights go out”
“Is It Possible to Wage a Just Cyber-war?....” Bill Tanner asked
“….I do hope not” James Bond walked into the office.
“Oh no” Q instantly recognized his field colleague for the mission.
Loss of Heart
MI6 HQ Vauxhall cross, London.
4.5 days to Complete Darkness.
“Good afternoon 007” M checked his watch. The helicopter from Scotland must have broken the sound barrier to get him here in such a good time, diversion and all.
“Bond” Mallory stood up and put out his hand “Gareth Mallory, chairman of the Intelligence and security committee, pleased to meet you”
Bond shook his hand
“Mallory” Bond realized there wasn’t a vacant seat.
“How’s the new house?” M had heard of the splendor of Spay Cast, the grand house in Scotland that had been left to Bond by the former head of MI6. Sir John had never been, but Barbara Mawdsley had always spoken about it in revered terms. M hoped Bond was not in some kind of gratuitous mourning after the death of his old boss.
“It has promise”
Bill Tanner lent forward and offered his hand “007, good to see you again”
“Hello Bill” Bond walked behind Q’s chair “Q”
“007” Q made no movement, but his voice failed to mask the disgust he felt at having James Bond as his partner for the operation, his initial excitement had certainly suffered a loss of heart.
M tried to look deeper into Bond’s façade. Surely he must be feeling some kind of emotion? The face and body language said otherwise.
Bond leafed through the operations document. Q simmered silently beside him. With a flourish Bond threw down the file.
“Tan Lim Tong a friend of yours is he Q?”
“More of an acquaintance actually” Q focused his attention on M. He tapped his finger on the file “There’s nothing in here that actually links Mr. Tong to this Complete Darkness group. I wouldn’t want us putting all our eggs in one basket surely there are other leads that 007 could pursue, whilst I interrogate Tan Lim”
Bond gave Q an incredulous look ‘interrogate?’ a wry smile passed across his face.
“What information can you give us on this morning’s events?” M asked Bond
“Tamerai Kahani was holding something called Alphanox” Bond looked for recognition but no one came forward, so he continued…
“Kahani had indicated that he had something of great value to trade. I was sent to affect the trade. Unfortunately the real owners of Alphanox got there first”
“The owners?”
“Complete Darkness”
“What’s Alphanox?” Mallory asked
“We don’t know, but Kahnani contacted us to say he had information and hardware that could assist us in the event of a cyber attack. As Complete Dakness is an ongoing threat we thought it best to take action. 007 was sent to investigate” M replied.
“Who’s Tamerai Kahani?” Mallory asked
“Who was Tamerai Kahani? He’s dead. Whoever he took the weapon from wanted it back and him dead. They achieved both. The assassin was un-able to shed any light on her employers”
“We’ll see what we can gleam after interrogation”
“She too is dead”
“Who was Tamerai Kahani?” Mallory demanded
“Sri Lankan computer hacker. One of the ‘good’ ones” Q offered
Tanner’s phone interrupted the conversation, with a loud annoying shrill.
M lent forward in his chair “Q, with Kahani dead, and if you don’t think Tong is the leader of this Complete Darkness group; then I’m left looking for potential leaders somewhere else aren’t I. How many hackers are there in the world today that could organize this kind of operation?”
Q composed himself to speak… But Mallory interrupted “And would have the motivation to cause worldwide chaos?”
“Granted there’s only a few. Besides Tamerai Kahani I’d say no more than four others”
Q pulled a small note book from his pocket “I took the liberty of jotting down their names. With a good hacker like Kahani everyone knows their name; their photos are always cropping up on the news. Whereas with a great hacker no one knows who you are” Triumphantly Q pushed the note book across the table…
“Are these the other ‘good’ ones then?” Bond asked.
Q shook his head “No they are the greatest” He said sarcastically.
“Name them will you Q?” M pushed the un-opened book back
“Vladimir Levin, a graduate of St. Petersburg Tekhnologichesky University. A brilliant mathematician who masterminded a scam to trick Citibank's computers into spitting out $10 million dollars a month. He was arrested by Interpol at Heathrow Airport in 2011. However all charges were dropped when the evidence suddenly disappeared from their computers…” Q looked for an amazed reply. His audience sat, unmoved. Q continued…
“Johan Helsingius, operated the world's most popular anonymous remailer, code name ‘Penet’. His home was raided in 2010 by the Finnish police after the Church of Scientology complained that ‘Penet’ was posting the "church's" secrets on the Net. Nothing was ever proven, and suddenly, and surprisingly the church backed off all criminal charges”
“Linus Torvalds, A true hacker in the classic sense, Linus was a computer science student at the University of Helsinki 2010 when he wrote the operating system Linux. The software has proven to be tremendously popular with hackers all over the world. He is a true hacker genius…” Q looked for a question from his audience.
“He got caught”
“Only because he had a heart attack” Q sensed his defence of these hackers was being analysed. The assembled were silent. “…and finally Connie Webb…”
“What about Carl Wilund?” Bill Tanner interjected.
Q threw up his hands “Well yes of course the thin man would have been on my list; but there’s a perfectly good reason why he isn’t…” Q returned the book to his pocket.
“…He’s languishing in a maximum security prison in South Africa” M completed the sentence; he cocked his head toward Tanner, silently enquiring why he’d asked the question which had such an obvious answer…
“Not any more he isn’t. He’s just escaped from Pollsmoor, by helicopter”
M’s fingers danced over the keyboard. The painting on the wall opposite slid away to reveal a TV screen. The room was suddenly transformed, the ambiance electrified.
“Let’s check the CCTV shall we Tanner?”
Bill Tanner took over control of the 3D screen, changing angles as the footage of the prison breakout began to run on the screen.
“Do we have a trace on the helicopter, Bill? What do we know about this man, Q?”
Q looked up from his iPad. “Wilund 37 years old. South African national. Computer genius, first known by the screen name ‘Thin man’. Back in the day he worked for a large high tech computer chip company which supplied the World with micro chips used in everything from industrial robots through to missiles. After his arrest it was discovered that he was also moonlighting for himself. Each chip he manufactured contained a remote hacking devise. It became apparent that he had been responsible for modifying the chips. When they accessed his computer it also became apparent that he’d been responsible for deleting critical files from US Military operating systems, which shut down the US Army’s Military District of Washington network of 2,000 computers for 24 hours. After his arrest the Americans demanded his extradition. They accused him of hacking into 97 United States military computers over a 13-month period between February 2011 and March 2012, by this time he was thought to be operating under the screen name to Dark master…”
“A touch theatrical wouldn’t you say?” Mallory offered “I thought these people wanted to remain anonymous?”
“Anonymous? Yes and highly illusive. Dark master had been on the US’s most wanted list at the time of the 9/11 attacks. The day after 9/11 Wilund apparently posted a message on the George Bush’s personal PC stating: "Your security is crap". As America retaliated against the 9/11 attack Wilund deleted the weapons log at the Earle Naval Weapons Station, rendering its network of 300 computers inoperable and paralyzing munitions supply deliveries for the US Navy's Atlantic Fleet. The US authorities claim the cost of tracking and correcting the problems caused by the Dark master is over $5,000,000 to date. While not admitting that it constituted evidence of destruction, Wilund admitted leaving a threat on one computer” Q turned the iPad around to allow the group to see the message on the screen
‘US foreign policy is akin to Government-sponsored terrorism. It was not a mistake that there was a huge security stand down on September 11. I am the Dark master. I will continue to disrupt your terror regime at the highest levels’
“The South African authorities have always tried to downplay Wilund’s involvement in the disruption of the US networks. The Pentagon responded to the refusal of Wilund’s extradition thus:
‘US policy is to fight these attacks as strongly as possible. As a result of Mr Wilund's actions, we suffered serious damage. This was not some harmless incident. He did very serious and deliberate damage to military and NASA computers and left silly and anti-American messages. All the evidence was that someone was staging a very serious attack on US computer systems. We have always been skeptical as to how independent this attack was’
“Maybe Wilund had some home help?” Bond asked
“Dark master, complete darkness? I don’t usually believe in coincidence 007, but I think his breaking out of prison right now promotes him to our prime suspect. However the breakout would negate the theory of home help” M interjected
Q cleared his throat “Shouldn’t 007 go directly to Cape Town. See if he can track down this Wilund character?”
In anticipation of a negative answer, all eyes were drawn to M. However James Bond had noticed something on the screen from one of the characters.
“May I?” Bond tapped the keys to manipulate a different camera angle.
Bill Tanner was pleased to be away from the screen, he chipped in
“We have the Helicopter on trace now”
Bond focused on one monitor from the film. It’s footage had captured the view after a camera had been dislodged from the prison wall. The videotape showed skewed footage of the crowd beyond the parameter fence. On the road behind the Special Unit soldiers, was a dark blue car. Bond’s finger tapped the key repeatedly so that the camera zoomed in on a face which had appeared through the open window at the rear of the car.
The face of Tan Lim Tong looked back at them…
Tanner put down his phone and took over the control and fast forwarded the CCTV tape from the camera. The Mercedes S class sped away from the advancing mob.
“Check the CCTV in the city center; find out where he’s gone” Mallory instructed
Bill Tanner entered the car’s registration number. Moments later the path of the car showed up on screen “He’s heading for the airport”
“Get onto airport security, find Tong!” M pounded the desk.
Long moments passed slowly. Tanner’s phone squealed excitedly. He nodded and made confirmation noises, as he put the phone to his chest he confirmed.
“His plane took off 35 minutes ago, Kuala Lumpur”
M turned to face Q and 007 “You two already have your instructions, I don’t see any reason to delay you now” M turned his attention to Tanner “Tanner, see what we’ve got in the area, don’t let that chopper out of your sight”
Q and Bond turned to leave, as they went through the door Bond said
“Don’t forget your toothbrush Q”.
Tanner stood framed in the doorway, indecisive as to what to do.
“Give us a minute will you?” Mallory addressed Tanner, and then remained silent until Tanner had left the office and closed the sound proof door. In the hushed silence and with the grace of a father Mallory addressed M.
“The PM’s concerned”
“Then he should have thought about the consequences of his cuts before tying my hands” M glared back
“We think it would be beneficial if you were to take your vacation shortly”
“A holiday?”
“Leading to retirement” Mallory said quietly
“And that’s what you think?”
“New Year’s honors list would reflect your difficult decision”
“So you can see into the future now can you Mallory?”
“Yes”
The eyes of Apollo
Cape Town, South Africa
4.0 days to Complete Darkness
The helicopter pilot felt the bony hand clamp down on his shoulder, a pungent smell of sweat washed over him.
“Thank you my friend” Wilund looked through the windscreen at the magnificent African vista that embraced the helicopter as it tore through the sky. The acacia tress seemed to lift their branches to the sky, as a beggar asks for charity.
“We’re lucky not to have any other air traffic in the area” The pilot’s adrenaline was slowly returning to normal, after all it wasn’t every day you took part in a prison break-out.
“I still have some friends” Wilund said in explanation to the empty skies
“Friends in high places it would seem”
“Yes, but also enemies. Some very nasty enemies, who will soon learn the error of crossing me” His fingers dug into the pilot’s shoulder.
“If you’d like to take your seat again please”
“How much longer will we be flying?” Wilund released his grip on the pilot. His hungry eyes devoured the rugged African landscape as it flowed beneath them. The vast grassy rolling hills which, without the luxury of water refused to grow crops to feed the nation seemed to welcome the escape.
“No more than ten minutes. I take it you are looking forward to the reunion?”
Wilund’s laugh was dry and raspy “Yes, I’m looking forward to my first steps on African soil again; as a free man” Wilund ducked his head and returned to the body of the Mil.
It was then that the pilot saw the flash from the ground. In lurid slow motion the missile snaked it’s way toward them, belching out a heaven long trail of smoke in it’s wake.
***
MI6 HQ, Vauxhall cross, London England.
3.5 days to Complete Darkness
One wall of the well-lit situation room was covered in photographs of possible prime cyber terrorist targets within the UK. When added to secondary targets the number was frightening. MI5 had already taken control of the defence operation. MI6 were solely in charge of the offensive. Satisfied that all the government-funded operation sites were safely behind high security firewalls Bill Tanner allowed himself the luxury of a yawn.
Wilund’s escape had been facilitated almost 24 hours ago, and chief of staff, Bill Tanner had not slept since. He needed to focus, but there was another element to the operation. The altercation between M and Mallory had been disturbing to him. Tanner knew that the presence of Mallory had indicated that the cyber threat of ‘complete darkness’ was being taken very seriously by the establishment. If things did not work out as hoped, heads could roll.
The opposite wall of the office was dominated by clocks, in the fashionable style that an international company shows the time in every country where they operate. The clocks on Bill Tanner’s wall were indicating the mission timelines. The first was counting down to Complete Darkness. Another showed the time elapse since Wilund’s escape.
Two more showed the time convergence of Tan Lim Tong’s flight from Cape Town to Kuala Lumpur, and the time line of 007 and Q heading for the same destination. Tan’s name had come up on the South African Airways flight 7154 passenger list. Although he had a head start, Bond’s flight was shorter. Tanner estimated that 007 was currently no more than twenty minutes away from Tan.
Tanner rubbed his weary eyes, forcing himself on with the thought that he should make best use of the twenty minutes before 007 made contact at the PETRONAS Towers.
***
PETRONAS towers, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
3.5 days to Complete Darkness
Bond’s patience was wearing thin. The aesthetic distraction of palm trees and pagodas in the KLCC (Kuala Lumpur City Centre Park) failed to raise his spirits.
“The proposed conference aims to enable researchers to build valuable connections between different inventors of digital applications” Q said.
“Very good Q. Just get close to Tong. Arrange a private meeting, and we’ll see if we can make a valuable connection of our own” Bond smiled at the old man, and marvelled at his ability to wear tweed in this heat.
Q pushed through the revolving door. During the seconds he was alone in the entrance he mumbled to himself “Talk about a blunt instrument”
Bond and Q walked through the vast steel and glass entrance hall. All around them people glided past intent on completing their own life task. The buzz of the Asian language was everywhere. After the white noise hiss of the fountains outside the entrance, the local flavour was a welcome change. Red coloured lights illuminated the space above them. Silk streamers floated in the warm air drafts that sucked the breeze upward into the neon blue interior of the mighty tower.
Soaring to a height of 451.9 metres, the 88-storey twin structure is Kuala Lumpur's crown jewel. Majestic by day and dazzling at night, the PETRONAS Twin Towers was inspired by Tun Mahathir Mohamad's vision for Malaysia to be a global player.
Inspired by master architect Cesar Pelli, the internationally recognised building powerfully captures the nation's ambitions and aspirations in the first breath-taking glance. Each tower is designed in the shape of an eight pointed star, a prominent Muslim symbol, perfectly blended with the powerful shape of a Saturn five space rocket.
Bond and Q rose the first 170 metres of the tower in an elevator built with a futuristic edge. Q furtively looked at Bond’s reflection in the mirrored walls. His Navy polo shirt barely concealed the man’s muscled body. The sleek line of his frame enhanced in light linen chinos. Q made a mental note to himself to review his Asisn wardrobe, should he ever need to visit the East again. The journey was fast and smooth but steeped in the time honoured ‘travel in silence’ tradition. At the forty first floor the doors sighed open on to the world's highest 2-storey bridge. The usually ‘packed with tourists’ Sky-bridge connects the twin towers with a style that is hard to beat. But today the glass lined bridge was eerily absent of life.
The first half of the walkway was decked out like a Grecian Temple. Tastefully placed vivid green olive trees and, at regular intervals the un-seeing all seeing eyes of life size butter coloured stone statues of famous Greek gods.
In stark contrast to the surreal décor two people stood just beyond the centre of the bridge. Beyond them the décor was at odds to the tranquillity of the pseudo Grecian temple. The trappings were those of a building site. The remnants of the equipment that had been used to transport the statues now lay in a chaotic tangle of rope and tarpaulins.
The story of Malaysia's vision unfolded and slid by beneath James Bond as he walked amid breath-taking views of Kuala Lumpur along the aisle of Greek gods. As Bond and Q approached the couple in the centre of the Sky-bridge, they realized that the conversation was heated.
As if by magic the external lights came on. Bathing the couple in bright neon light. The outside view somehow seemed to be enhanced. Without consciously assimilating it, Bond realized the conversation was in English, his eyes slid across to take in the heated discussion.
“The conference welcomes papers, yes. But only on specific research topics”
“That’s bullshit. Cyber Security, Data leakage, Data protection and Database forensics, when are you going to open your eyes to the potential that we have” The girl’s accent was neutral. Her face hidden by a curtain of soft blonde hair.
“Researchers are encouraged to submit their work electronically. All papers will be fully refereed by a minimum of two specialized referees. Before final acceptance, all referees comments must be considered. Please take your papers…”
The man noticed Q and halted the conversation.
“Major Boothroyd” he exuded
“Tan Lim Tong” Q approached with a wide grin on his crinkly face. Tan was about ten years younger than Q; he was a compact fifty something Malaysian gentleman with spiky jet black hair, and the eyes of a professor. Bond recognized the face as the one he’d seen in the film from South Africa.
The girl turned and took in Bond in a single sweep. A look of disdain passed across her dark eyes as she observed Bond smiling at her in return.
In her neatly manicured hands, he noticed she held a neat brown paper package tied in legal fashion with coarse string.
Q and Tan embraced. Their words of welcome were lost on Bond. His thoughts were completely on the girl. Her features were more oriental than Malaysian, which meant that the hair was either dyed or a very good wig. Her demeanour gave a good indication that she would be a hard nut to crack. But instantly Bond knew he would relish the opportunity to try.
Her nails were dark red, the same shade as the large ruby ring she wore on her finger.
As Tan Lim Tong and Q held each other by the shoulders, the girl sided stepped in between them and thrust the package into Tan’s chest. Instinctively he grasped it with both hands.
“There do what you want with it” The girl turned on her heal and walked away, the click of her heals tapping a defiant beat as she hurried to the elevator.
“How long before the first criminal is tried for Cyber-Crimes?” Q’s voice was enthusiastic.
The girl turned once to look back at the group she had left. She smiled sarcastically at Bond then hurried toward the elevator. Bond shook her from his memory, his thoughts returned to the job in hand.
Q and Tan were walking and talking; they had climbed over the building equipment and were heading for the far end of the Sky-bridge.
Bond began to follow them. To his right a single light appeared on the horizon. It looked no bigger than a speck of dirt. Bond kept the light in his periphery. The speck of dirt on the horizon grew larger.
The file in Tan’s hands began to buzz. Both he and Q stood and stared at the package. Tan held the package at arm’s length and looked at it from all angles, the way a dog inspects a treat. Unexpectedly it began to vibrate. Suddenly it burst open, spraying him and the face of the statue of Apollo at his shoulder in a bright purple ink. It glowed.
Q and Tan stood in shock. Bond began hurdled the equipment on the floor. A quick glance to his right was enough to understand the significance of the dye that had splattered on the Malaysian.
“Q, get him off the bridge…It’s a drone”
The two men began to run. The dye was obviously impregnated with a substance which was resonating to a frequency which the drone’s signal could home in on.
The light on the drone was much brighter now. Bond judged the distances and the time he had left. Q’s un-fit arms pumped in an uneasy rhythm as he and Tan sprinted for the elevator. The drone was almost in firing range.
They reached the far end. Q hit the button. The down arrow lit up, plotting the downward journey of the elevator. From this distance he could not see how many floors it had to travel. Bond saw the tell tail puff of smoke as the missile was launched.
The glass exploded as the MQ-9 Reaper drone zipped between the twin towers at over 200 MPH. The explosion knocked Bond off his feet. Razor sharp shards of glass flew through the air. The wind whipped the debris into a maelstrom of chaos.
Parting of the waters
PETRONAS towers, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
3.5 days to Complete Darkness
James Bond got to his feet. As his hearing returned to normal he rushed to the chasm. As the dust blew away into the night sky all suddenly became as still as the statues along the bridge. The breeze cooled his skin. Bond took in the scene and was disturbed to see that he was quite alone, both men were gone.
Across the void the elevator pinged with a single high pitch note that announced the opening of the door. Q appeared at the elevator door in the middle of the damaged entrance to the second tower. The two men stood on opposite sides of the yawning gap. Q scanned the damage, and then pointed behind Bond.
“I can’t move. The lifts have been locked down; hopefully the girl will be trapped inside the other one”
“Where’s Tan?” Bond could clearly see Q was alone in the elevator. Major Boothroyd slowly shook his head, and then he looked down under the bridge…
“My god Tan’s alive” He pointed down below the sky-bridge.
Bond dropped to the floor and peered over the edge. Tan was wedged into the structure of the supporting girders, about eight stories below. With a laboured effort he reached out his arm, to secure his hold.
Rope, he needed rope. Bond quickly scavenged the equipment he required from the pieces scattered around him. He picked up a length of rope and threw it around a statue; tying off the end he secured the other end around his waist. He ripped down a tarpaulin and folded it, stuffing it between his waist and the rope. As he walked to the edge of the broken bridge he played out the length in his hands.
“It’s okay Tan, we’re sending down a rope for you, hang in there” Q shouted
“Should be ok” Bond smiled at Q, and then began to climb down.
“What the hell are you thinking of doing?”
“I need to cover the dye on his body. It’s acting as a beacon for the drone” both men looked for the killer robot plane.
About a mile away the drone made a lazy turn. Q looked back at Bond. The confused look gave way to one of alarm.
“You must be joking; you’ll never make it down there in time”
Without a pause Bond jumped into the void.
As Bond dropped he jack-knifed his body to ensure a swing took him into the tangle of debris. He smashed into the girders. Bond wedged himself above Tan. He began to un-furl the tarpaulin. The wind here was stronger, whipping at his body
“I’m going to cover you in this, and then we’ll pull you to safety”
Tan looked terrified; he clung to the girder for dear life. The dye masked his face but not his fear. Being blown out of the sky by a missile was enough to shake the confidence of anyone. Below him a miniature version of life carried on. The sounds and smell of the city were as distant to Tan as the thought of getting out of this alive. The thought of being hauled out over the drop was enough to send him into panic.
“No, don’t touch me” He used one hand to ineffectually brush Bond away.
“Shut up”
Tan heard the threat in the voice. His throat constricted, his world began to spin. This may well be the man that MI6 suspected of being in charge of the ‘Complete darkness’ group; and his computer hacking skills may be second to none, but his bravery was deserting him fast.
“Who was the girl?” Bond asked
Bond threw the tarpaulin over him, quickly tying the rope. Within the bundle Tan began to thrash wildly.
“Tan talk to me, the girl that gave you that package who was she?”
“I don’t know I’ve never seen her before…” He slipped from Bond’s grasp and fell. After a short fall the rope pulled him up sharp, his screams drowned out the approach of the death drone.
“How did she know to find you here at the PETRONAS Towers”
“I don’t know I’ve been here for the past two days speaking to many people about the conference. She was one of many that approach me” Tan wriggled at the end of the rope.
“But you were arguing with her when we arrived”
“Yes, because she wanted to give me hard copies. No one gives their work in hard copies anymore”
Without a target to lock onto the drone screamed past them. Bond leapt onto the rope, and began to climb up. Beneath him Tan struggled, the rope began to move, it didn’t take a genius to know that the rope would now be rubbing over the rough edge of the Sky-bridge like a hot knife through butter “Keep still” Bond shouted; but to no avail.
‘This better be worth it’ Bond thought to himself as he climbed the rope.
Tan continued to scream and thrash about. Slowly but surely he squirmed his way out of the tarpaulin. His arms flailed about in front of his face. Screaming in terror to find himself in such a precarious position. The thick, grey sheet un-ravelled and blew through the air into the tower, sticking to the smooth surface. In the distance over the city the drone made another lazy turn, and began to home in on the pair suspended beneath the bridge.
James Bond climbed hand over hand up the rope. Beneath him Tan Lim Tong dangled at the end of the rope. The drone howled down upon them, then came the coughing death of machine gun fire. The kill pattern was devastating. For one memorable moment the rope went tight beneath him. Bond instinctively knew that Tan Lim Tong was dead. The next moment the rope went slack above him. James Bond began to fall.
The rope had been cleaved in half by the drone. Bond toppled backward and began a dream like decent. Almost immediately he crashed into the tower, desperately searching for a hold. His body slid down the smooth structure. Then gravity began to tear him away from the smooth face of the tower, hopelessness washed over him. It was then that his hand touched the coarse material of the tarpaulin.
Bond grabbed the material as his fall began to accelerate. He punched his hand into the cloth and brought it into his body. His foot brushed against the tower, this time he pushed off, twisting his body he plummeted earthward. Carefully he unfurled the tarpaulin, wrapping the corners around his wrists. Bond tucked his knees into this chest and somersaulted. Now he was upright, he allowed his arms to go above his head. The sheet billowed above him, like a sail. Immediately Bond felt the control take over his fall, he pulled his elbows down and began to slow. The air spilled from one side and then the other as Bond rocketed downward. The formula for calculating the decent rate against the size of the parachute eluded him, but as he saw the dancing water fountains raising up to meet him Bond felt quietly confident he was going to survive the 170 metre fall. The water hit him, and the final 10 metres of the decent were lost in a frenzy of pain. Bond hit the bottom of the pool; he rolled and came up fast, breaking the surface.
Sirens and screams were all around him; the explosion had brought chaos to the area, with thousands of people trying to vacate the towers.
Amidst the mayhem Bond’s mobile rang; he fought his way against the crowd
“Bond” He said impatiently
“Ah 007 Q here; I’ve set up base in the security suite…”
“How the hell did you get down so quickly, you said the elevators were locked down?”
“I over rode the security code, and went to the security room… I’ve located the girl if that helps”
Bond looked up at the devastation on the Sky-bridge. After his impromptu flight down to the ground Bond wished Q had informed him of his ability to override the lock down procedure.
Police were herding people away from the building, Tan was dead, and they had no other leads but to track down the girl that had given him the package
“It’s a consolation, I suppose. Where is she?”
“Lower level. If you go to the main door, the security team are expecting you. Now, once inside go to the stairs on your left. Follow the signs for the aquarium. I’ll keep you posted. I’ll be able to monitor your movements from here through the GPS on your mobile”
Bond stood like a statue looking at his phone, and then he put it back to his ear.
“Well what are you waiting for 007, get a move on”
Bond covered the ground at a relentless pace, his eyes focused on the entrance. Two security guards lifted the barrier to admit him. Without a pause Bond ran through the reception of the building and hurtled gracefully down the stairs. As he passed by the sign ‘Marine Display’ Q’s voice boomed from the mobile’s loudspeaker. He raised it closer to his ear again, to allow Q to guide him all the way to the target.
“Next level down 007. Now then, that’s odd”
“What?”
“She’s stationary”
Bond jumped and skipped down the stairs at a frightening breakneck pace. Soon he arrived at the foot of the stairs. The scene was eerie and almost religious in it’s majesty. It was as if the sea had parted. The girl stood in the centre of thirty foot walkway between two giant forty foot walls of water held at bay by the glass front of the tanks. The lights inside the aquarium bathed the entire room in a pale green light. The rest of the light was created by ultra violet spotlights. Bond clearly saw why he had no need to run anymore. A security guard had his gun trained upon the girl. Carefully he produced handcuffs from his belt…
Bond spoke to Q one last time and then put down the mobile “I’ve found her”
The guard gestured for her to put out her hands. Obediently she complied. As the guard was about to slip the cuffs onto her wrist she slapped her palm down onto his hand, and forced his gun hand inward. Stepping forward she squeezed his fist closed, and his own finger squeezing the trigger; the shot was loud. The guard reached forward, but the girl was already on the move. His hand tore at the silk blouse, and it peeled away from her shoulder. She pivoted on the spot knocking the guard aside with a powerful side kick. Then slowly she backed across the room. Bond walked directly after her. Although she was naked from the waist up, her face was dignified. She made no attempt to try to hide her naked breasts from him; her hands were loose at her side.
Bond closed in upon her ‘She didn’t take the gun’ he thought, and that fact worried him. This wasn’t someone that was about to give up. This was a killer.
She had nowhere to go; the silence became oppressive, pressing down on them. Reflective patterns of gently moving water played over her body, masking the inner most features of her face. She raised her left hand, knuckles facing forward. The ruby ring shone through the darkness, and as the ultra violet light hit it, it send shafts of light through the air, like a lightning bolt. She grasped the ring with her right hand and pressed the stone.
Instantly the explosive devises detonated on both tanks. The glass walls began to splinter, the glass tore like silk. Only now did the girl turn and run. She ran fast. Her blonde hair billowed out behind her. Bond saw that she sported a large dragon tattoo on her back and shoulder. The beast curled and coiled across her shoulder and down her back, it’s black body poured through the flames on her skin.
The fire exit opened to her touch and then she was gone, the door slamming behind her. Alone Bond stood in the centre of the aquarium. The water began to seep through the cracks. How long did he have? To go after her would be certain death. Bond ran forward toward the fire exit. The door was locked solidly. Bond lifted the mobile…
“Q, can you see if you can un-lock the fire exit at the far end of the aquarium?”
“Mmm, theoretically you shouldn’t be able to lock the fire exits through the computer system…oh yes. I see it seems that someone has”
“Yes I know, can you unlock it” Before Q had time to respond and to the accompaniment of a loud explosion a torrent of foam swirled in the space behind him.
“Q I need it now” The tsunami of water cascaded into the space between the two tanks.
“I can’t gain access…007 do you hear me?” His decision made, Bond backtracked toward the stairs. The two torrents of water clashed in an angry maelstrom high above his head. The ensuing waterfall crashed onto the floor sealing the fire exit and instantly flooding the ground. ‘Good decision’ Bond thought to himself. The tidal wave broke over him; Bond’s legs were swept from under him. Moments later he was six feet under water. Bond began to swim toward the stairs. All around him fish swam in disarray, his hands palmed them aside; he remembered that there were over 5,000 species in the tanks.
The shark brushed past him, it’s grey rubbery skin abrasive against his hand. In a heartbeat the shark jack-knifed it’s body and attacked. Bond smashed his fist into it’s snout, the animal turned away in shock, it made a lazy turn. Bond pushed again for the safety of the stairs, but the shark had distracted him, and he had missed the stairs. Still the water poured into the gap above him, forcing him deeper underwater. The bubbles disguised the shark as it tracked it’s prey. Bond kicked again, his legs thrusting him forward his arms performing a powerful breast stroke, the shark kept pace with him. The water swirled about him; the swell having hit the wall was now sloshing back, smashing into the water pouring down from the other tank. Bond had to make it into the middle of the maelstrom, where he hoped the current would propel him forward.
His lungs were bursting when the torrent of water suddenly pushed him into the stairwell, the bow wave foaming and boiling as it squeezed upward, spewing him from its grasp. Bond stumbled up the steps. The wave broke and the water receded leaving a large silver fish floundering on the step beside him. The shark leapt from the water and took the fish into its mouth.
“Bon appetite” Bond stood and smoothed down his sleeve.
Q shouted down from the top of the stairs…
“You let her get away?”
“Yes. Sloppy I know”
Tentatively Q came down the first few stairs. The water boiled in the caldron of the stairwell. The enormity of what Bond had just emerged from began to dawn upon him. Then in abstract nightmare vision Q saw the shark patrolling the area.
“I’ll report in. We’ve got nothing to go on now, no leads” Q backed away from the water’s edge.
“Well actually there is one” Bond looked back at the shark
“What?”
“Give me that note book of yours”
Q retrieved the book from his pocket.
“I think someone’s starting to kill your list of master hackers”
“Well if that’s the case we only have to wait three days to see who’s alive when Complete Darkness attack London” Q smiled sarcastically
“Four names, three days. I’ve had worse odds…”
“Where do we start looking?”
“We? Sorry Q I’ll take it on my own from here. I need you back at HQ conducting the search”
“Doesn’t have to be London, I can access the web from cloud storage from a lap top anywhere in the world”
“Well let’s find you a lap top I need you to tell me where I can find these people?”
“That’s easy, two are in Finland, one St Petersburg, Russia, and one in California. Although where Wilund is at the moment I couldn’t guess. Where will you go first?”
“Japan”
Forewarned, Forearmed
MI6 HQ, Vauxhall cross, London England.
3.5 days to Complete Darkness
In desperation Bill Tanner turned back to his screen and re-ran the thermal image of the helicopter again as it made it’s escape. With the eyes of a weary gambler he watched the green blip again as it made it’s progress across the screen. The line was arrow straight without any interference or deviation right up until the moment it vanished.
“Simply vanished” He rubbed his eyes, sleep was seducing him. Then in an act of defiance he balled his hands into fists and slammed them onto the desk.
“Are you sure the ‘SA double S’ (South African Secret Service) have no intelligence of military activity in the area?” He asked the assistant
“Yes sir, nothing” the man replied softly
“Damn it man something must have put that chopper down. 007 come on we need some answers” he shouted. He urged himself to solve the mystery of the missing helicopter before M and Mallory had to be told they had lost Wilund.
He re-ran the tape again. The fuzzy green helicopter image stared back at him. All the data that had been recorded and relayed from the tracking satellite was updating onto the screen. The telemetry graphs were simultaneously updating on a second screen. There was absolutely nothing else in the area. When the helicopter had disappeared, there was no trace of anything leaving the scene.
As Tanner watched the recording a third screen was busy spitting out live information on the other names that Q had indicated could be involved in Complete Darkness. A new message caught his attention. Tanner paused the playback on Wilund’s helicopter escape. With the acquired skill of a speed reader, Tanner scanned through the message Interpol had just sent through. Their latest information on the whereabouts of Vladimir Levin was confirmed. Dental records had identified that his was the body retrieved two days ago from the river Neva.
***
L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon, Covent Garden, London.
Joël Robuchon is one of the world’s most respected chefs. He is the proud holder of numerous Michelin Stars. L’Atelier is part of his fabulous global brand with siblings in Paris, Tokyo and NYC. Step inside this formidable restaurant and you’ll soon see why. The ground floor is dressed in stylishly minimalist chic blacks and reds. Diners perch on tall leather stools to watch their own chef creating his magical culinary masterpieces. The equally stylish first floor is just as impressive but offers traditional seating, and private dining.
“It really is quiet difficult to find the right words to describe just how good the food is here” Otto Killman took hold of the red leather bound menu. The waiter gave a small bow and left the table.
Killman wafted the menu in one hand as he reached for his flute of Krug Brut with the other.
“Sure you won’t join me?” The bubbles danced and popped within the crystal. The feint fizzing sound was both soothing and intoxicating.
“No, champagne is for celebration. I’m not here to celebrate…” The voice sounded a little out of breath, as if it were apologizing for being too loud.
“…Every day is a celebration my friend” Killman took a sip. He reveled in the taste. The accent was still noticeably Teutonic even though Otto Killman had been speaking English since he was a boy. For the past five years he had been a senior adviser to the Swiss global financial services company W.B.F&C
World Bank Finance & Credit’s headquarters in Zürich, Switzerland were actually not too far from where Killman had been born sixty years before. But within that time he had travelled the World many times over, and become a multi-millionaire. An expert in investment banking, asset management, and wealth management services, Killman was a troubleshooter in the fullest meaning of the word. He had been hired by the most prestigious of banks and individuals of dubious means for private, corporate, and institutional clients worldwide.
The hair a little greyer, the hairline a little higher these days, and the jowls a little fuller, but the energy was still there. The passion for the chase, the desire for the kill. Otto Killman was as much at home in the boardrooms of big business as he was in the casino at Monte Carlo. His business methods remained ruthless, his resources seemingly limitless, as was his knowledge of the next best investment. He was for all this a private man; an unquenchable thirst for influence often does that to a man in the shadows of power. In pursuit of his love for privacy his love for art had become all consuming. Tonight he wore a Swiss miniature enameled oil painted brooch on his tie, to some it may have made Killman look a little effeminate, but at two hundred and seventy five swiss francs, the tie pin was anything but.
“Your call said urgent. This is hardly what I expected” Secretary of State for International Development Ronald Cambridge gave a slow shrug of his broad shoulders. He spoke with the air of a librarian chastising a noisy client in a library. His breathy voice carried no further than Killman’s ears.
Killman returned the flute to the silver coaster. He opened the menu. Only his dark eyes were visible above the leather bound book of delights. Cambridge could see the mischief within them. Frustration began to build within his chest.
“The pig’s trotter on parmesan toast with truffle, mushroom and tarragon. Mmmm a delight to the palette” His head dipped behind the book. “…and then there’s the beef and foie gras mini burger with crunchy chips” He lowered the menu “Heavenly, just heavenly”
With an air of resignation Cambridge attracted the waiter, and simply pointed to his glass. With ease and grace the waiter poured the champagne.
“There, that’s more like it” Killman buried his head back in the menu.
Cambridge ordered the green Chartreuse soufflé, and quail stuffed with foie gras served with truffle mash. The Sommelier advised on the wine and food pairing.
The sound of silver knives caressing bone china fused with the aroma of the wonderful meal. The two men sat alone in the private dining room, only Strauss for company.
“In three days Britain is going to be hit by the worst disaster it has ever encountered” Killman dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin.
“Without my help, the austerity measures you will need to implement will likely stretch for the next fifty years” He held back apprising Cambridge’s response. When it came it was guarded. He tried to add a tone of shock, but it just came out a little too melodramatic.
“Are you saying you have information for me about the terrorists attempting to perpetrate this atrocity on the United Kingdom the so called Complete Darkness group?”
“Absolutely not. I’m offering help. When your computer systems go down in three days, one of my investors could help get you up and running in no time at all. I just want an assurance that you will bear that in mind when you award the contracts”
“Why would you think I would be in a position to award domestic IT contracts?”
“Your Government has sustainability objectives to meet. I can assure you the environmental impact will be significant after the Complete Darkness attack. You will be influential in the decision to award the contracts”
“And if I don’t?” The food was starting to taste a little sour now.
“Then we’ll be taking our investments out of the UK banks; along with 17,000 jobs, explain that to your Prime Minister as he does a post disaster re-shuffle”
“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it doesn’t cut the mustard” Cambridge hissed.
“Then perhaps this will” He tossed the iPad onto the table. Cambridge tapped the screen.
‘Even a regional nuclear war could spark "unprecedented" global cooling and reduce rainfall for years, according to U.S. government computer models.
Widespread famine and disease would likely follow, experts speculate’
“What’s this rubbish?” Cambridge said in hushed tones.
“Read it” Killman gestured for him to continue.
“I don’t understand. What has this to do with the cyber-attack on England?”
“Simple, let me explain. Very shortly technology will be available that will enable certain people to hack into any country’s national defense computer. Put simply that means that should we…”
“We?” Ronald Cambridge stiffened in his chair; the pitch of his voice seemed to frighten him. For a man who never spoke above a whisper the word was loud.
“The royal we I believe you call it. That means that someone could hack into a military mainframe and turn what could be described as a little stand off into a major incident. Take for instance Syria and Israel, someone pushing the buttons in their control room could soon escalate the conflict. One click of the mouse could necessitate both countries looking for international development and support from a major power for years to come…”
“The existence of such software is pure speculation; nothing exists that could override the decision making capability of a government approved military computer”
“Not so. My investors assure me the software, they call it Alphanox will be available…soon” Killman rolled his eyes.
“No two countries would entertain getting that close to a conflict”
“You forget India and Pakistan. Korea, North and South. You overlook Iran and… well anybody really. But the ‘who’ is quite academic… unless of course you take in the ‘where’ factor. Now where this incident takes place is very important. That’s why England has been targeted for the next demonstration. And that my friend is why we are having this conversation. Please…” Killman gestured toward the iPad
“Continue to read the article”
‘During the Cold War a nuclear exchange between superpowers was predicted to cause a "nuclear winter." In that scenario the nuclear explosions would spark huge fires, whose smoke, dust, and ash would blot out the sun for weeks amid a backdrop of dangerous radiation levels. Much of humanity would die of starvation and disease’
“This is just preposterous. Pure science fiction” Cambridge threw down the iPad; the champagne flute rattles on the coasters.
“Not so my friend. Today the United States is the only standing superpower. Granted the nuclear winter is little more than a child’s nightmare. But nuclear war remains a very real threat between developing-world nuclear powers, such as India and Pakistan”
Cambridge felt the gore rise in his throat. “What are you suggesting?”
“You know very well what I am suggesting. It is something that Governments have implemented many times before…”
“War?” The whispered voice rose again
“Nuclear war. Just a small nuclear war. Now surely, the British government would want to be made aware of the possibility of a small nuclear war in some godforsaken little country”
“Ridiculous”
“Maybe so, but you should go and talk with whoever you need to talk to. All I am suggesting is that should a small nuclear conflict take place, it would be most beneficial to know where and when. You British are so good at charity and aid…and re-building. International development I believe you call it. How do you say, forewarned is to be forearmed”
“This is far and above anything that you suggested I might be useful to your investors for”
“And yet you are willing to take our gratitude…Now is the time for some of the favours to be returned. Please remember, all we are asking for is to be appointed as a supplier of choice when it comes to the rebuilding of your computer defense systems. We will take care of the rest. A speedy resolution to the UK’s problem will stand us in good stead for what is to come”
Cambridge lent across the table, his face set “I cannot promise that I will be able to influence what you are suggesting”
Killman picked up the flute again, and made a mock cheers motion
“I’m sure you will be guided by your conscience”
“Just a small nuclear war you say?” Cambridge rubbed his knuckles against his cheek. Killman nodded in reply “You may even have an idea where in the world you would like it to be?”
Cambridge lowered his voice even further “…Are you saying we would we be able to influence where this conflict would take place?”
“Yes, but of course…. To see what climate effects such a regional nuclear conflict might have, scientists from NASA actually modeled a war involving a hundred Hiroshima-level bombs, each packing the equivalent of 15,000 tons of TNT. That’s just 0.03 percent of the world's current nuclear arsenal. The researchers predicted the resulting fires would kick up five million metric tons of black carbon into the upper part of the troposphere.
The NASA climate models predict carbon would absorb the solar heat and, like a hot-air balloon, quickly loft it even higher, where the soot would take much longer to clear”
Cambridge looked nervously around him then sheepishly nodded in compliance.
Calmly Killman put the iPad back in his leather briefcase. He smiled as a Father does to a stubborn child. Killman straightened his cuffs and brooch.
“Very good. Let me have your ideas for the ‘where’ that you and your government might want this little conflict to happen. After all you don’t want that sort of mess on your own doorstep do you? I’m thinking somewhere that could bring in a number of natural resource benefits as well”
***
MI6 HQ, Vauxhall cross.
“Are they sure it’s him?” M rubbed his hand across his forehead
“Yes” Tanner replied
M thought long and hard on this latest piece of news, to contemplate the meaning of Interpol’s information would form a new direction to the investigations. He took a deep breath.
“Good at least that takes Levin off the list of suspects. Anything on the others?”
“Only other information is on Torvalds. They traced him to an apartment block in Helsinki. Got his address from the serial number of his pacemaker”
“Good, he has a weakness let’s try to exploit it”
As M made the declaration Tanner was advised of the attack on the PETRONAS towers.
“Something just in from Kuala Lumpur sir” He flicked the page on the screen to show the incoming visuals. The fire was small and localised within the tower, the Sky-bridge was hanging in tatters, and the mayhem in the streets was news worthy.
“Looks like 007 has made contact”
M looked at the footage; he rubbed his hand across his mouth.
“007 may have his hands full for the moment, better contact Q”
Before Tanner could press the send button, his phone burst into life.
“Yes” after a short conversation he put down the phone.
“That was South African secret Service, they just found the helicopter”
“Damn, that means we’ve lost Wilund”
“On the contrary sir, Wilund’s body was in the wreckage”
“Dead?”
“Very” At that moment Tanner’s phone burst into life “It’s Q”
“Can you flick over to channel 6 Bill?” Q’s voice sounded urgent. Tanner switched stations. The TV began to re-play the helicopter escape from Pollsmoor.
“We don’t need to see this again? Where are you Q? What is the status on Tong?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to need a new prime suspect”
“What the hell as 007 done now?” M shouted
“Not him this time M. Now pay attention” The screen showed the familiar sight of the prisoners beginning to spill from the prison.
M looked at Tanner, the intent was un-missable. Together they watched the film. The film cut to the view from the dislodged camera. The focus zoomed in onto the Mercedes S class’s darkened windows. All the windows were shut. Tanner’s mouth began to open as the car sped off. Q’s voice woke them from their trauma.
“As you can see someone did a little editing on the film that we saw. We don’t think Tong was ever in Cape Town”
“I take it Tong is dead?”
“Yes. Blown from the sky-bridge by a US drone. 007 believes someone is going to take out the rest of the hackers that I indicated on my list of potential Complete Darkness leaders. He advises we put a security blanket over them”
“Could be right Levin was found dead a couple of days ago, and Wilund’s body has just been discovered in the wreck of his helicopter. Seems a military defence station went off line as the chopper flew over. A ground to air missile was launched and brought down the helicopter, all on board were killed” Tanner explained.
“This Complete Darkness group do have access to some very sophisticated gadgets” Q mused
“Where’s 007 now?” M asked
“We think it’s better I don’t tell you over an open line”
“For god sake Q this is MI6” M lent on the desk
“With the greatest of respect sir. Whoever is behind this has already fooled MI6 into believing Tong was mixed up in the Complete Darkness activity. They are clever enough to plant evidence on our system. They hacked the airline computer without any trouble, and as you can see their video editing skills aren’t too bad either”
“Why did they want us to go after Tong?”
“With the greatest respect, I believe he was the bait to get me into the open. The names on the list, plus Tong and Wilund could only be added to, if my name were on it”
“And now you’re over the other side of the world” Tanner added
“At least you have 007 to protect you” M interjected
Q thought it best not to tell them that Bond was already on a plane to Tokyo.
“Absolutely. I feel as safe as houses. Now are we going to put some surveillance on the others?”
“What for?” M’s Irish accent was particularly strong
“To protect them…”
“Sorry Q. I mean why are they being killed off. And if they are what concern is it to us?”
“Whoever is behind the Complete Darkness group they will know that only a few people would be on hand to thwart their plans”
“So they’re killing off the opposition?”
“Killing off those that could help us if we got hold of them, yes”
“Help us do what?” M answered his own question “Help us to stop their scheme, or help us to find the Complete Darkness group”
“Mmmm compelling thought. Either would be enough to sign their death warrant” Q said
“Then your idea about surveillance needs to be re-thought. We need to bring these people in, protect them”
“Their skills could be invaluable when combating Complete Darkness” Tanner added
“Is someone forgetting about me?” Q said quietly
“You and 007 are pinned down…wherever you are. We need to get hold of…”
“…Johan Helsingius, Linus Torvalds and Connie Webb” Tanner handed over a list.
“The first two are in Finland. Mr Webb will be a little harder to find” Q said
Bill Tanner began making arrangements for the Helsinki station to pull in Helsingius and Torvalds.
“Mr. Webb? I thought Connie was short for…” M muted
“No, sorry M I told you these people come from a very secretive collective. Connie is short for Constantine. It was the screen name used by our friend when he worked in silicon valley”
“Q you’re not making sense do we know who this person is or not?”
“Not I’m afraid. Our friend was on the pay roll of six blue chip companies in silicon valley. However no one there ever heard of him, let alone seen him. He simply hacked into their data bases and put himself on the payroll. Webb is the surname he used. We think it’s just an extension of the WWW dot web”
“Oh ****” M ran his hands through his hair “I’m going to have to tell Mallory”
“I could relay the events if you wish sir?” Tanner offered
“It’s okay, I have to do it. You see Mallory will be taking over from me when I go on vacation”
“Vacation?” Tanner’s look of bewilderment turned to sadness as he read between the lines.
In total there are 27 chapters.
I aim to put one on per week.
Marked men
Tokyo, Japan.
3 days to Complete Darkness
Centuries ago in the days of the Shogun. Japanese feudal law would mark their criminals with tattoos to distinguish them from the rest of the population.
The highly visible tattoos originally took the form of a black ring around the arm. More rings were added as convictions increased.
The recipients became known as marked men, and as such were widely discriminated against in their districts.
To escape the attentions they drifted to villages on the outskirts of the major settlements.
Sadly the marks also identified the criminals to each other. The men were drawn together, and eventually formed and organized into mafia-style gangs known as ‘Yakuza’. As their power and reputation grew, the marks became symbols of fear.
Worn proudly as symbols of status and dedication, Yakuza tattoos have evolved into magnificent, multicolored full-body masterpieces.
Today's many Yakuza factions are patriarchal in nature and dominated by male activists, however recently women have become integral parts of Japan's gangland society.
Wives and mistresses of top Yakuza figures often undergo extensive tattooing themselves.
***
Studio Muscat, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan.
James Bond stepped out of the taxi into the dazzling hypnotic light show that is Tokyo. The buzz of traffic pressed in upon him. Quickly he paid off the taxi. The alien street signs gave no indication to the needle that he was looking for in this vast neon haystack. The orderly flow of people parted before him and soon he found his goal, and entered the tattoo parlour Studio Muscat. The bright lights and garish designs on the walls belayed the intense craftsmanship that was being undertaken. A young Japanese man stopped his work, to look at the foreigner who had just walked in. The sound of the tattoo gun fell silent. The young girl on the table twisted her head to view the stranger; instinctively she clutched the towel closer to her breast.
“Konbanwa” The artist said, although Bond could not see his mouth move behind the white surgeon’s mask that he wore.
“Konbanwa, watashi wa sagashiteimasu Yuko Asao” Bond replied (Good evening, I’m looking for Yuko Asao)
The electric blue curtain swished back to reveal a beautiful Japanese woman. In her late twenties her body was petite and delicate. Her western clothing comprised of dark blue figure hugging Levi jeans and a swan white tee shirt. Her hair was very black, cut in the traditional bob with a fringe that covered her eyebrows. The face was round but the pronounced cheekbones made her beauty legend. Her dark enchanting almond eyes were liberally covered in black mascara and eye liner, giving her a bold and dramatic look tinged with a sophistication that comes naturally to confident woman.
“How can I help you” the accent charming and the infliction humble, the sing song voice was full of charm, and conveyed the utter politeness that is synonymous to the Asian woman.
“I’m interested in an authentic Japanese tattoo”
The buzz of the tattoo gun started again, and the girl on the table returned to her magazine.
“Finding the right Japanese Tattoo Design can be quite daunting, Mr?”
“Bond…James Bond”
“I am Yuko Asao” She held out her hand, and took in the man before her. Bond wore a dark grey suit, white shirt and black tie. She recognized that his eyes were the bluest she had ever seen.
“I’m told you’re the best” Bond shook her warm hand, it trembled like a bird.
“I do have many skills it is true, to which are you referring?” Her smile revealed perfect teeth.
“The dragon tattoo” Bond looked deep into her dark eyes, hoping to gauge the response.
“The Japanese Dragon Tattoo is very beautiful and colorful in design and very symbolic”
Yuko Asao moved to the back wall of the studio. She opened the door and took Bond through to her own private work studio. The walls were adorned with brightly coloured pictures of tattoo dragons. Q had certainly done his homework
“There are some 6,000 different designs, so you will have no trouble finding what you want”
“It’s not for me” His smile lingered.
“Shame. A friend then? A man or woman?”
“A woman” Her reaction was not what he expected…
“Mmmm that excites me…”
“Don’t get too excited, she already has the tattoo” Her own smile vanished.
“Why are you here Mr. Bond?”
“I’m hoping you can assist me in identifying the woman”
“Many women have dragon tattoos, and for many reasons” Her tone was much more formal now. She busied herself with a pile of photographs. Bond wondered if her change in tone had come about because she was not going to make any money by creating a new tattoo, or that she was being asked to identify someone.
“The reason here would be dark, maybe even tribal?”
“Interesting. Dragon origins are steeped in myth and folklore. This adds to the appeal of the tattoo”
“Why would someone want to adorn themselves in such a way?” Bond plucked the photos from her hand.
“Besides for just the pure pleasure? Many Yellow cabs adorn themselves in such a way” (she used the derogatory term used by foreigners to describe a Japanese woman who will easily have sex with someone she has just met)
“I don’t think this woman sells sex”
“In Japan sex industry, girls offer absolutely everything imaginable for sex. For the person and for the reason, the dragon can represent good and evil” Yuko Asao ran her hand over Bond’s chest. Another side of her personality was beginning to emerge. Bond had encountered women who would and could and did use their bodies either to extract information or hide information from another. Bond decided that the beautiful Yuko Asao knew exactly the type of woman that would wear such a tattoo. ‘Well done Q’ he thought.
“The woman I’m looking for falls into the last category”
“The attraction, apart from its stunning beauty is that it represents good luck and is seen as the source of wealth” She began to undo Bond’s tie. Smoothly she pulled it from his collar.
“For the individual?”
“For to whoever she belongs. I think you understand?” Her hands went to his shirt buttons.
“I thought the Japanese dragon represented freedom” Bond let his finger rub her arms.
“There are different types of freedom; some call it independence that is very important for a Japanese woman. I think you will agree a very attractive quality for a lady”
“Go on”
She unbuttoned Bond’s shirt, spreading it open. Her finger tips lightly rubbed his chest
“I love a blank canvas…Describe the dragon, it’s position, it’s colours”
Bond held Yuko Asao by the shoulder and effortlessly spun her around. His hands ran down the front of her tee shirt. Gently he pulled it from her jeans. She lifted her arms. Bond pulled the shirt from her. He reveled in the gloriousness of her back. A golden koi carp was leaping over a violet peony. The body of the fish arched and twisted to afford it every possible second in the warmth of the sunshine. The translucent droplets of water shimmered against her skin. The mouth of the fish was open enjoying the pure exhilaration of the leap toward her left shoulder, the tail flexed just above her coccyx.
“Beautiful” Bond touched her skin. He moved his hand to Yuko’s right shoulder.
“The head was here” He felt her body shudder
“Oh Mr. Bond your hand is cold” She squealed. Bond did not think that was the case.
“As if it was peeping over her shoulder. Does that signify anything?”
“There are five basic dragons. Their positions all have meanings. Sui-Riu points downward, as if he descends from heaven, he is the dragon king and is said to give control of the sun and the rain”
“The left claw extended to the top of her shoulder” Bond ran his fingers from her neck to her shoulder.
“That sounds like Ri-Riu the rare dragon. He is not well understood, which is why he hides. However, it is said to give its owner an almost supernatural foresight” He voice was breathy now. Bond noted her biceps were puckered with goose pimples.
“What of the colour Mr. Bond. Was it red? Ka-Riu is a brilliant red colour, he is small in comparison with the others”
“No, this one was black, with a red tongue” Bond felt her body shiver. He held her in his arms and began to lightly kiss her neck. For a moment he imagined he could feel the tattoo moving against his chest.
“Fuku-Riu is black. He is the dragon of luck. Did it have wings”
“No”
“Then it is not Hai-Riyo the dragon bird”
“No, her’s had the body of a serpent, the body seemed to be winding through flames. Do you know the design?”
“No”
Bond kissed her, she tasted fresh and alive; he could tell she was frightened about the design he had described. He had no doubt she knew of it, no doubt Q was right again, was there no end to the old man’s talents.
“Are the colours significant?”
She gyrated her body back against him; she began to twist within his grip. Bond held her close to him. Her breasts pressed against him. His arms encircled her back, as he felt for the leaping koi. Her lips reached up for him and they became lost in a kiss. Bond had read the tattoo enthusiasts guide to dragon colour meanings. Black means wisdom, green represents a love of life and of the earth. Gold shows kindness and the ability to face challenges. Yellow represents the east, and blue the west. Dragons seeking a pearl are forgiving and compassionate, whilst those breathing fire are ferocious and brave. All well and good for the fashion conscious.
Yet another faction also adorn themselves with tattoos, and like their predecessors before them, the black ring of crime becomes dominant in the symbol they have chosen to represent. Usually a hidden dragon brave, ferocious, wise and moving was reserved for the most skillful of Yakuza assassins. Centuries ago, this fell within the domain of the male gang members. However it would seem that after her demonstrations in Kuala Lumpur, the girl Bond was after was a fully-fledged Yakuza female assassin. Yuko Asao gyrated in front of him, her skillful hands and lips doing their best to divert Bond form gaining the name or whereabouts of the assassin. Bond however was prepared to do whatever it took to access the information from the tattoo artist that had marked the killer so beautifully.
Yuko Asao pulled away from the embrace. “Is your hotel close?”
“Yes, but I don’t have a car…”
She reached for her tee shirt. “That’s okay I’ll order us a taxi” She pulled the garment down. Bond began to button up his shirt. Yuko Asao returned to the main studio. Over the drone of the gun he heard her on the telephone. After a quick exchange between the male artist and herself she appeared at the door wearing an ankle length black leather trench coat.
“Time to go Mr. Bond”
“That was quick” Arm in arm they walked through the studio
“Sayonara” Bond said to the artist and his model, they both replied
“Ja-ne” a more informal phrase. Bond registered the words.
Outside the harsh neon, and car horns brought him back to reality. Although he was hoping that the rendezvous at his hotel was for real, and as exhilarating as the thought of making love to Yuko Asao was, and as much as he looked forward to waking up with her in the morning he was stealing himself for a much ruder awakening.
The Omni present Toyota taxi pulled up at the kerb. Yuko Asao got in and slid across the seat. Bond followed her in. The driver turned to Bond, and raised his gun. Yuko Asao opened her door and slid out.
“So sorry Mr. Bond”
“Ja-ne?” he offered, but Yuko shook her pretty head
“So sorry Mr. Bond, this is goodbye” A big shaven headed Japanese man took her place beside him. Yuko slammed the door shut. Bond’s door opened and another solid man got in. Their search was quick, rough, and efficient. The men removed Bond’s Walther, wallet and mobile. Bond re-adjusted his clothing.
“Cosy” said Bond as he adjusted his cramped position in-between the goliaths. The two men tried to dominate Bond with their bulk and presence as the taxi drove away. As expected their gaijin captive was very accommodating, and soon they were enjoying the sights of their city. They could not possibly have understood that it had always been James Bond’s intention to be taken to meet their boss. Q’s research had been first class, finding the tattoo artist that was the preferred administrator to a particular Yakuza gang that used the black dragon and flame tattoo as a gang symbol. Bond firmly believed that whoever sat at the head of their organisation, was a likely candidate for that of leader of the terrorist group ‘Complete darkness’
***
Shijomae Industries Complex
Tokyo, Japan
As the Toyota ploughed through the Minato district, Bond realized they were heading for the bay. Traffic moved around them like a living organism.
Another five minutes saw the taxi cruising along the waterfront of Shinakawa. They were definitely heading for the industrial Odaiba area. The unusual silhouettes of the well-lit cranes of the docks dominated the skyline behind the warehouses and office blocks. The giant structures could easily be mistaken for large dinosaurs lumbering behind the warehouses. The skyline was as alien as the Tokyo commercial area they had just come through. Bond felt very alone.
Then as the car slowed Bond saw a building which looked strange even in the highly unique area of the city. What appeared to be a giant floating ball set amongst an ‘un-finished mecano set’ of a skeletal building appeared before his killer blue eyes.
At a height of around 100 meters the ball was lit with what looked like a small observation deck offering an excellent view of the Tokyo Bay waterfront area and Rainbow Bridge.
The sign on the building declared this as belonging to the Shijomae Industries complex. They by-passed the soothing blue lights of the curved glass wall of the administration area and proceeded to a less hospitable loading dock area. The smell of diesel entered the taxi as the heavies opened the doors.
The two goliaths led Bond into the loading /distribution docks, beeps and buzzers accompanied a hive of factory activity.
Beyond them furtive work was being carried out by many orange painted, electric powered fork lift trucks. The trucks were driven by men wearing white overalls and yellow hard hats; the company logo was everywhere.
Like worker bees the men transported creates from the brightly painted racking to the dark mouths of the articulated lorries that waited for them on the loading bays. The attention of the two big men never wavered as they transported Bond high above the factory floor via a network of cold metal stairs. At the top of the building it was darker.
***
W.B.F&C Lear Jet
Zurich, Switzerland
Flights into Zurich always afford good views of the alps. Otto Killman sat on the right hand side of the Lear jet, watching the majesty of the mountains. It was a view he never tired of.
His lap top announced a video call. He straightened his tie. Always paid to look your best when going up in front of the boss. The screen revealed his face.
“You had a good and fruitful trip?” Shinoda San asked
“Yes, Kahani was eliminated” Killman answered.
“The Aphanox is safe?” Shinoda’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes it was moved as you instructed. The British came, as you predicted”
“Yes, they are very predictable. How was your meeting with Cambridge?”
“As we had hoped, the UK contracts are as good as secured” Otto Killman sat in front of his lap top. The Skype connection revealed the serious face of the Japanese criminal, the background outlined that he too was traveling. The big city skyline passed by behind his car.
“Then the plan is on track” Shinoda’s face cracked into a smile
“Of course. All we need is the ‘chip’…” Killman let the words hang
The man in the car allowed himself a shrewd smile
“Please Mr. Killman, do not concern yourself with the detail. I give you my personal assurance that Aplhanox will be in perfect working order when complete darkness falls in London. Please escalate the pressure on Cambridge. I would like our little virus in place before the light go off”
“I will, and that’s good to hear. I put myself at considerable risk in making contact with Cambridge”
“We all put ourselves at risk every-time we cross the road. But please be assured your efforts will not go un-rewarded. As you are aware I can be very generous to employees who perform well. Your journey was necessary to ensure we have the foundation in place. The British are greedy people, they will jump at the chance to offer a war torn country development aid, if it means lining their pockets. You did well Mister Killman”
“Thank-you Shinoda San” Killman hated being called an employee. As generous as his boss was however Killman knew that the man was a ruthless criminal genius. But then you didn’t get to be the leader of a terrorist organisation by being nice.
“Complete Darkness will fall in London as promised. My legal company will ensure every effort is made to repair the damage”
“I saw news reports from Kuala Lumpur and St Petersburg…”
“….As I said Mister Killman our plan is on track”
“I understood that Tong was under MI6 surveillance” Killman tried to pry
“That was already known to us, no need to concern yourself. There will be news from Cape Town and Helsinki very soon. Stay tuned. Please do not see yourself as someone who has more responsibility than is necessary” Shinoda tapped the side of his nose.
Killman nodded to himself in self-satisfaction, his pet Politian on the Finnish Council of State drove a much harder bargain than Cambridge.
The Lear touched down, the reverse thrust from the two Garrett TFE731-2 turbofan
Engines made further conversation superfluous.
“Good bye Shinoda san”
“Good bye Mister Killman” Tsukasa Shinoda broke the connection. Shinoda sat back in the luxury of his car; but he did not relish in the smell of the leather; nor appreciate the quiet and comfort of the journey along the busy roads of Japan. A conversation with Killman always left him feeling tarnished with the greed and gluttony of Western culture. Soon that way of life would be lost for a lifetime. Soon the soft skills of reliance upon a life of technology would be no more.
“Survival of the fittest” Shinoda said quietly to himself.
Shinoda smiled to himself as he allowed himself to visualise the day when Japan would shed the yoke of the contemporary hybrid culture imposed upon his race since World War two. For a moment he allowed his mind to wander, to escape from the contemporary Japanese problems of an industrial world. When asked how they spent their leisure time, 80 percent of Japanese men and women surveyed by the government in 1986 said they averaged about two and a half hours per weekday watching television, listening to the radio, and reading newspapers or magazines. Shinoda closed his eyes against the shame of the statistics that invaded his thoughts. He recalled with disgust that some 16 percent spent an average of two and a quarter hours a day engaged in hobbies or amusements. Others spent leisure time participating in sports, socializing, and personal study. The rage of indignity coursed through his body, relieving him of the shame and reinvigorating his resolve to return the world to a feudal system of law. Shinoda relaxed as visions of his new world crashed through his mind like a wave upon the sand. The medieval or "feudal" period of Japanese history was dominated by the powerful regional families (daimyō) and the military rule of warlords (shōgun), the great period stretched from 1185 to the early 1600’s. The emperor ruled as the talisman, the figurehead of the ruling class, and the power of merchants was weak.
In a short time the power of Killman and all the bankers and merchants would be cut. Order would be restored.
Hard Line
Tokyo, Japan.
3 days to Complete Darkness
The two pre-occupied security guards strolled along the perimeter fence, deep in conversation about the Yomiuri Giants’ season. Without a second glance they made their way past the oil tanks; this was their usual route. The matt black Nissan Juke GT-R blended into the shadows and remained unseen by the baseball loving men. A black-clad figure emerged from the parked car and skilfully evaded the sweep of the security camera.
At the fire escape the figure climbed quickly, their target in sight. Running along the roof top the figure counted off the sky-lights. At the eighth window the figure stopped and prized open one of the panes. With great dexterity the figure rolled through the gap. Once inside the black silhouette shimmied along one of the roof girders. In the darkness they waited.
Far below two men in laboratory coats walked across the factory floor. A man in white overalls and a yellow hard hat approached them; he bowed and took some instruction which the figure could not hear. The men entered a lift, and all was quiet.
The figure then looped a hi-tensile wire around the girder. Attaching the carabineer to the wire the figure slipped from the girder, and slowly descended to the upper gallery of the factory.
Another slight pause to assess orientation, and the figure sprinted into the shadows.
The laboratory door was un-locked. The figure slipped into the clinically clean office, closing the door as they entered. Deft fingers un curled the window blinds to allow the exterior lights to filter into the room. The crate sat on a stainless steel table. The large label identified the destination as Cape Town.
***
James Bond sat tied to an old wooden chair in the centre of an office. The room smelt damp. A tall cheap wooden stool stood in one corner. Along the opposite wall five large demi john glass jars stood in dusty silence. All other furniture had been removed some years ago it seemed. The two big Japanese heavies stood to his sides and behind, professionally out of reach.
Without moving his head Bond took in everything about the room that he could discern from his peripheral vision. Now was the time to memorize the room, and remain calm.
It was an internal room, no windows. A single door broke up the plain grey of the walls.
Any hope of escape would have to go through that door. The plan, so far had gone according to schedule. Bond had relayed the information on the girl and the dragon to Q.
Q had interrogated his lap top, and come back with the name and address of the tattoo artist suspected of tattooing the women of the Yamaguchi syndicate.
Bond had thanked Q for the information but had evaded the inquisitive question “Now what?”
His plan had been to get himself into this position. Soon would come the meeting with the head of the Yamaguchi syndicate. The ‘what next?’ was a little hazy at the moment. Bond flexed his arms against the rope, there was go give. He was confident that once he had understood why Japanese gangsters had killed Tan Lim Tong he would understand better the motive behind the Complete Darkness group’s actions. That knowledge would undoubtedly lead him to a confrontation. The door opened, Bond became alert, forcing the details of his escape plan to the back of his mind.
***
Created in 1915, the Yamaguchi was the biggest of all yakuza families, accounting for 50% of all yakuza in Japan, with more than 55,000 members divided into 850 clans. Despite more than one decade of police repression, the Yamaguchi has continued to grow. From its ancestral headquarters in Kobe, the family now directed criminal activities throughout Japan. Over the past ten years certain clans have been involved in operations in Asia and the United States.
Tsukasa Shinoda , or to give him his proper title was known as Kenichi Shinoda the Yamaguchi-gumi's current oyabun (leader).
Shinoda had always followed an expansionist policy, and had increased the operations in Tokyo (which had not traditionally been the territory of the Yamaguchi-gumi.)
The Yamaguchi family had been successful to the point where its name had become synonymous with Japanese organized crime in many parts of Asia outside of Japan. Many Chinese or Korean shopkeepers who do not even know the name "Yakuza" would know the name "Yamaguchi-gumi" when being asked for money.
***
The intruder used an electronic screwdriver to unscrew the lid of the crate. The feint hum of the tool seemed obscenely loud in the silence of the office. The fourth screw rotated out of the wooden crate. The smell of newly sawn wood filled the air. A layer of packaging was removed. Next came a tray which contained twenty microchips. The figure carefully eased the tray from the crate. Beneath the tray a large cigarette packet sized chip lay nestled like a diamond on a burgundy velvet cushion. The figure un-rolled the black canvas belt from the waist of the black uniform. Inside the belt, an identical microchip nestled in an individual pouch. Carefully the figure switched the microchip with the one from the crate. The process was then reversed. With the task completed, the intruder resealed the crate and made their way to the exit.
***
The door opened to reveal a sinister looking Japanese man, his features oozed with menace. He was much smaller and older than the two big athletic heavies at Bond’s sides, but he possessed an air of evil about him that negated any supposed physical disadvantage. His brow was constantly furrowed which gave a deep intense look to his dark lifeless eyes. His skin had a dark hue with a leathery appearance. There were lines around his eyes which looked as if they were a result of him being in the sun for long periods, not through age. His hair was an oily black, cut (without the top knot) in the style of the samurai. The man was resplendent in a dark blue suit. His eyes scanned the room like cancer. His voice sent a chill through Bond and the two heavies “I am known as Shinigami, it is how you would say the reaper. The Grim Reaper. To you Mister Bond I am death” Slowly he pulled a walkie talkie from his pocket.
He barked a short message into the walkie talkie which nestled in his hand. The reaction of the two heavies beside Bond was to fidget, followed by a straightening up of their bodies. Bond thought ‘good the boss is coming’
The man in the blue suit stood to the side. Tsukasa Shinoda sauntered into the room.
He wore an overtly crisp black chalk stripe suit. This was however the second sharpest thing he was wearing. The moustache was pure Chicago nineteen twenties; it was an addition to when he had recently spoken to Otto Killman. He also wore a fedora which had a clean white silk band. The man commanded presence his aura of menace was almost visible.
“Bond, James Bond. British secret service. I am very pleased to meet you Mister Bond. Please to tell me, how was Kuala Lumpur?” His head tilted to the side waiting for a reply.
“Hot. The duty free’s not all it’s cracked up to be either” Bond moved in his chair, testing the ropes as he moved. Still no give.
“Very funny Mr. Bond. I was told you had a good sense of humour” The voice was flat and ugly. His upper lip formed an arch. Bond thought the sneer was not part of the costume.
“Not as good as your tailor’s”
Shinoda glanced down at his suit. Stepping back he lifted his head and began to roar with laughter.
“This? I’m attending a gangster theme party. All roaring twenties” He assumed the position of holding a machine gun. “Ta ta ta ta ta” he simulated shooting the gun. “You dirty rat” he shrugged in the style of James Cagney.
“Tonight for me will be one of much fun. But not for you” He beckoned the man in the blue suit forward “Tell him”
The man spoke; the words were slow and deliberated. They sent a shiver down Bond’s spine
“In coming here tonight Mr. Bond you have chosen death”
“I didn’t know I had a choice?” Bond looked him directly in the eye. Killer to killer.
Shinoda lent close to Bond’s ear “You don’t” Then, in sharp contrast came another burst of laughter. Abruptly he turned to leave the room. “Kill him”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bond asked. Shinoda stopped in his tracks.
“No, I just wanted to meet you. I will write a small paragraph in my memoires” Slowly he turned back to face Bond “Oh and I know why you’re here. You very cleverly tracked down my Kula Lumpar assassin. And now you would very much like to know why I killed Tam Lim Tong”
“Yes please”
“Unfortunately I don’t want to tell you. Goodbye Mr. Bond. It was good to meet you”
“I wouldn’t leave here now if I were you” Bond’s voice was cold
Shinoda stopped in the doorway “But I’m not you Mr. Bond. Not only do I run the syndicate which controls most of the crime in Japan, but I also own this company. So you can see I can leave here whenever I want”
“If we don’t leave here together, you’ll be dead before you get to taste your first boot leg whisky of the night”
Shinoda took a few tentative steps back into the room. His face was set
“Men who threaten me only get to do so once Mr. Bond. And I must remind you. You are not in a position to threaten me”
Bond’s face cracked into a mischievous smile, his blue eyes gleamed.
“Then you really have no idea why I’m here”
“And I don’t care. Al Capone was once asked which type of death he would most like to succumb to, when passing to the next world. He replied a swift and unexpected one. Unfortunately for you Mr. Bond your death will be anything but” Shinoda snapped his fingers. A small frail looking man in his seventies rushed into the room. He bowed reverently in front of Shinoda san
“This is Omya san. Take great pleasure in his introduction. He is the last person you will ever be introduced to” and with that he was gone.
The killer in the blue suit followed, shutting the door firmly behind him. One of the heavies moved from behind. Carefully he placed the stool to the side of Bond’s chair. The old man set his briefcase on the stool and fiddled with the catches on the front. The second heavy placed two of the glass jars next to the stool. The frail old man was softly singing to himself. Bond wondered whether the man could even speak English.
“The human body is a wonderful thing; you can lose 40% of your blood before going into organ failure” The tinny laugh made the old man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. Maybe he was even in his eighties. His eyebrows were very grey and unruly. Business like he extracted a long hollow needle from the case, and a length of pink rubber tube. At least he spoke English. Bond now had a tool to negotiate with.
“In fact as your life blood drains away you wouldn’t even know you were dying because of the reduced awareness, your level of consciousness, that is”
“Fascinating” Bond subtly moved in the chair.
“Which is why your Mister God created pain. Pain serves as a warning, let’s you know something is not quite right” He tapped his temple. Bond noticed his incredibly long finger nails. He attached the pink rubber tube to the end of the needle. Omya then brought out a small cotton pouch. Carefully he unfolded it.
“Used formally the acupuncture needles can relief pain” The needles lay close together in the un-rolled pouch.
“I expect you don’t want to be too formal tonight”
“Other Yakuza killers laughed at me, when I first said the acupuncture needle was my choice of weapon”
“Friends can be so cruel”
“They didn’t laugh for long Mister Bond” He held a long thin acupuncture needle in-between this thin bony fingers.
“Shinoda said you were the last man I was going to see; are you intending to bore me to death?” Bond looked quizzically for a reply. The old man broke into a smile…
“I thought you might like to talk? You and I are going to get acquainted in the time you have left on this earth. Talking will help you enjoy every second of it” The reedy laughter shook his frail body again.
“I take it I’ve not long to live then”
“Five minutes” His sleeve fell back revealing a thin loose skinned arm.
“That’s not very long is it?”
“Oh, I can make five minutes seem like an eternity”
“I’m sure you can, and that’s just with talking”
“The ‘Ulnar nerve’ is the largest nerve in the body, it runs from the shoulder to the finger tips, most of the way it is unprotected”
“Well I’ve had someone try to break my balls with a length of rope. I didn’t talk then, and all he wanted was a password” thoughts of Vesper poured into his mind.
“I think you will talk to me. I don’t want your secrets, just conversation. This is my work. I get paid to kill people for Shinoda san. However I do have a hobby, so this I do for free. But please if you would tell me. You see I like to know how people saw their own demise when they were young. Old? In a hospital bed?” He sniffed and shook his head his wrinkly old face screwed up, pawing at his arms
“No not for you. No dignity for a warrior like you. Yes?” His finger came up, the old eyes were bright. The knife was in his hand and tore at Bond’s suit jacket sleeve before he could respond.
“Where the nerve passes through the elbow is called the funny bone” Omya thrust the needle into Bond’s arm. The pain crashed through his body. His nerve burned, just like when you hit your elbow. The pain radiated throughout his arm, and through his body.
“A fiery racing car crash? Making love to a beautiful…two beautiful women” He nodded, and peeled away the material. He tied off a small piece of hose around Bond’s forearm. The vein in his arm stood out. The threat was very real now. Nausea swept through his body.
“Two women? That sounds better. But somehow…” Bond looked around the room, ostensibly for the two girls, but actually for an idea of how to affect his escape. The pain made the walls vibrated like a drum skin.
“I don’t think you’d be able to accommodate” The shaven headed heavy took a step forward, and blocked his view of the door.
“How strange that when one actually faces one’s own death, it’s never the death you hoped for” The old man inserted the long needle into Bond’s arm. Quickly the dark red blood ran up the glass length and disappeared into the rubber tube. An echoing drip announced the blood hitting the bottom of the glass jar. Bond began to rock the chair, the pain radiated like a rampant toothache. Bond began to close down his senses.
Cat fight
Tokyo, Japan.
3 days to Complete Darkness
“Not too long now. Soon your words will flow like your blood” His smile was meant to be reassuring. Bond struggled against the rope. The shaven headed heavy slammed his hand down on Bond’s shoulder; the pain tingled like a sparkler spiting white heat against his skin.
Omya withdrew the acupuncture needle from Bond’s elbow, the absolute pain receded. The old man wiped the needle; then replaced it in the pouch.
“Now you know about the pain, now you will learn to relax”
All hope of movement was gone, waves of nausea swept over Bond, the relief was exquisite. Weakness spread through his body like a virus.
“You want to talk now. Yes?” Without waiting for an answer or without paying attention to the draining of Bond’s blood, the old man rummaged through his briefcase. Omya pulled out and began to light some small candles. Carefully he placed them on the floor around Bond’s chair.
From the floor quizzically Omya looked at Bond. His head was tiny.
“Not ready yet? Maybe one more acupuncture needle yes?” Omya painfully got back to his feet. He went to the pouch and withdrew another long thin wickedly sharp needle.
The sound of an alarm pierced the tranquillity of the night.
***
No time to reel in the wire. The black clad figure ran along the roof of the building.
In unison Shinoda and the blue suited killer looked up “There” he pointed to a black clad figure crabbing down the roof. Mesmerized they watched the intruder utilize a "Speed-line" and zip over to the next building.
“Ninja!” The blue suited killer spat, and began to move. Shinoda held his arm.
“Patience Shinigami san. I have a better idea. Let us fight fire with fire” Shinoda took out his mobile, after a moment he said. “Miko, kill”
***
The shrill noise of the alarm cut out the old man’s singing. His brow furrowed
“Go on, go and see what is happening out there. Get someone to turn off the intruder alarm. We want to be nice and quiet here…” Omya ushered the two big men from the room. He turned back to Bond.
“…Don’t we? Nice and quiet yes? As your life blood slips away” The candles smelled of cherry blossom, the smoke curled into the air.
“We will wait for the noise to stop before we apply” Omya replaced the acupuncture needle onto the pouch and slowly descended to the floor in a kneeling position.
The drip of his blood had stopped now, which meant that the bottom of the glass jar was covered. Bond estimated he’d lost a pint of blood.
Alone with Bond the old man said “Just you and me now. Don’t worry I will stay with you until your spirits leave” Omya bowed, his arms spread out before him, he began to prey. His chanting was soft and lyrical. The smoke from the candles filled the air with a beautiful cherry scent. Omya’s head was almost kissing the floor.
Bond gently tipped the chair back, and straightened his legs, first the left, then right. The rope slid down the leg of the chair, and slipped from the bottom. As the old man lifted his arms and head from the floor Bond kicked him beneath the jaw. His frail body crumpled in a heap.
Dragging the tube out of the jar, Bond dashed to the door frame, his blood leaked out onto the floor. Smashing the chair back against the wooden frame the chair shattered. Bond released his right arm, and pulled the needles from his left arm. A fountain of blood filled the air. He swiftly tied the tube around his upper arm as a makeshift tourniquet. Shaking the wooden fragments of the chair he returned to the old man quickly searching his pockets. Bond took the only what was helpful, the matches he’d used to light the candles. Bond staggered to his feet and ran from the room.
***
Headlights and screaming brakes announced the arrival of back up in the factory grounds.
Shinigami directed the men to the gates. The men moved quickly so as not to incur the wrath of the grim reaper. A white suited security guard explained that he had found a car close to one of the oil tanks.
Shinoda Pulled out his mobile again. Quietly he gave his instruction to the Miko.
At the sound of the word ‘Miko’, the small security guard backed away in terror.
“Get back on duty. Go to the oil tanks” Shinigami shouted. The guard ran into the darkness. When you had a boss that could summon up ghosts and spirits to help, being close to him was not a good place to be.
***
Unarmed and weak from the loss of blood Bond quietly stumbled down the stairs. The sound of running forced him to divert from his escape route. Banging off the walls he fell into the nearest room. Pausing until the guards ran past; Bond saw that the room was filled with drums festooned with chemical, and fire hazard symbols. With quiet efficiency Bond prized the lid from a drum. He crouched beside it forcing his good shoulder against the metal. The drum tipped, and slowly the contents poured over the floor. As the liquid spilt Bond began to maneuverer the drum. Dizzy from the loss of blood Bond slowly rolled the upturned drum back toward the door. Bond made sure the route to the exit was clear, then without a second thought he lit a match and dropped it into the pool of chemical. Crouched double he lurched through the door. Bond gently closed the door upon the fizzing potion.
James Bond’s head was thumping as he lurched toward the exit. Behind him the gentle whoosh of an explosion spurred him on. Bond’s hand was on the handle when he heard voices. Two more guards were on the other side of the door. Bond’s grasp of Japanese was passable, but that was when he was in a reasonable state. In his current state he only picked up a couple of words, which he juggled through his fuzzy brain to make sense. He’d picked up the words ‘Oyabun’ the leader and ‘Niko’ the cat.
Smoke drifted outside through the air vents, the guards looked up and then the fire alarm began to whine. The two guards opened the door and entered the building. They rushed past Bond, who obligingly hid behind the door. As they opened the door to the burning room, oxygen mixed with the flaming chemical to ignite the toxic mixture even further. Flames reached out and took hold of the two guards wrapping around them like candyfloss. In unison they screamed in pain. The smoke entered their lungs; the flames sucked the oxygen from their bodies. Instantly they began to choke.
The consuming fireball resided.
Bond stepped out from behind the ‘exit’ door and quickly stepped through it and closed it firmly behind him.
“You should never enter a burning building, I thought everyone knew that”
The whoosh of the explosion smashed against the metal door, angrily trying to push it off it’s hinges.
Once outside the cool night air made him feel more dizzy. Bond needed rest, and quickly.
All around him was chaotic noise, sirens screamed in his ears. Bond hurried across a courtyard between the two closest buildings and disappeared into the shadows.
The sound of the explosion had attracted other guards, their concern distracted their attention. They hurried past Bond’s hiding place. Ineffectually the men tried to abate the flames with hand held extinguishers. The fire spread.
Squeezing behind some crates Bond dropped to the floor. The moon was high above the skyline, casting down a silvery ghost light. The cold night air made him feel nauseas. The sweat was suddenly cold on his skin. The loss of blood reduced the oxygen flow to his brain and the shadows began to play tricks in his mind. The fire had taken a strong hold on the building. Bond knew that to stay here meant death, but he was incapable of moving.
Once the fire had started and the combustion reaction had begun, the fire grew expediential. The energy and heat increased, jumping from object to object then building to building. The vitality produced by the reaction of the fire was sufficient to heat nearby combustible materials to their ignition point, almost to the point where a spontaneous combustion reaction occurred.
The fire continued to grow and spread, glass exploded, cables frazzled. The supply of fuel was never ending within the factory and combined with the air it sucked in the energy and speed of the fire intensified.
Of course there has to be all the reactants available, fuel and air. Some materials provide their own supply of oxygen so they will burn even in the absence of air. Other materials burn hot enough that they will "steal" oxygen away from other chemical compounds. All the elements combined to turn the factory into an inferno.
James Bond felt the heat upon his skin like a sunburn. The fire raged around him. The guards with their hand held extinguishers had long since left the area. Bond took in a number of deep breaths; he knew he had to move.
The black clad figure moved cat like across the burning roof. In disbelief Bond watched as the figure dropped down beside what looked like a car buried into the side of an oil tank. Vehicle and oil tank seemed to melt into one; the whole scene wavered as the grotesque figures undulated. That was where Bond needed to be.
Suddenly, inexplicably the cat like figure split into two. In the light of the moon the figures became cat-like and began to fight. Scratching and clawing at each other, limbs flailing. One cat leapt onto the nearest building climbing with speed and grace, and then the other half did the same.
Bond closed his eyes trying to regain his balance and sense of realism. The fire alarm still screamed in his brain, somehow it seemed more intense than the intruder alarm. Bond’s mind made the connection, the intruder alarm. Someone had been in the building. Now that someone was being pursued by…
The truth was just a breath away, like in a dream when you know the answer to a question that is yet to be asked. James Bond opened his eyes. Suddenly his vision of the cat figures changed. Now the scene became two black clad humans. They were fighting on the roof above him, their martial arts skills cancelled out each attack that the other threw. Bond watched the two fighters. One of the protagonists was obviously the intruder that had set off the alarm. The other was the…
Bond was on the verge of the truth when the windows blew out from the building behind him, the glass sprinkled on the ground with a sound like spoons falling to the floor. Free from the confides of the building the flames leapt into the sky, like a snakes’ tongue probes the air.
More fierce explosions followed, rocking the night; burning globules of chemicals fell to the earth all around him. This was not the safest place to be. This was like a napalm air raid, he needed shelter.
Oblivious of the buildings melting around them the two figures continued fighting on the burning skyline. Bond unable to move watched; mesmerised as the two figures traded blows. The answer Bond sought was tantalisingly close. His hands grasped at thin air trying to capture the answer.
Then he had it, The hand clenched into a fist. The second figure was the assassin from Kuala Lumpur. Shinoda had confirmed the girl from the towers was his assassin. Shinoda had confirmed he had been behind the assassination of Tong. The ‘why’ was obviously, still a burning question that needed to be answered. The answer was maybe why the intruder was here tonight? The intricacies of the plot were still beyond him.
More burning globules of chemical splatted on the ground around him, his skin began to burn.
James Bond smiled; once again his instincts had been right. He had gambled upon chasing the assassin rather than trying to nurse maid the other hackers. The smile spread upon his face; no matter what odds he had solved the puzzle.
Above him the fight continued. The figures were still just silhouettes against the burning building…
…and then it happened, on the edge of the roof one figure executed a spinning back kick. The impact crashed into the other’s head. But the impact made the attacker lose balance. In lurid slow motion both figures fell. One crashed through a window into the burning building and was consumed by the inferno, the other plunged to the ground. The body bounced off the building to the side, and thudded onto the earth. Around the body the chemical deposits smouldered.
Bond crawled from his hiding place, his head was swimming. He reached the figure. The pulse was strong. None of the limbs seemed to be broken. Perhaps this was a cat after all. A razor sharp stiletto dagger snuggled in the sheath on the leg. By the hand was a belt containing what looked like small hard-drive or a large micro-chip. Bond withdrew the knife with one hand as his other removed the hood. The face behind it was peacefully beautiful. Bond studied the face, female. Short black hair crowned off the face of a very beautiful Japanese girl. The eye make-up was similar to that of Yuko Asao’s that he had seen earlier in the evening although Bond thought the reason for this make-up would be different for the face behind the hood. This girl was wearing black lip stick too. The girl was no doubt beautiful, but from what Bond had observed, her fighting skills were extraordinary.
In his current state he was unable to positively ID this girl as the assassin in Kuala Lumpur, but then again there she’d benefited from being in a blonde wig disguise. The flames devouring the buildings around them made the urgency for his next action very real. There was one sure way to tell if he’d got the right girl. Bond took the knife and slit the black suit from neck to shoulder. Her skin was hot and sweaty from the fight. The suit peeled away from her body. Her white naked shoulder and back were pale in the firelight.
‘Then the assassin was the other girl on the roof’ James Bond replayed the final death blow in his mind. Summoning all his strength he picked up the girl. Bond reasoned it was she that must have inadvertently tripped the intruder alarm, and subsequently saved his life. He wanted to repay the debt. Bond pocketed the chip and hauled her up over his shoulder in a classic fireman’s lift.
Another explosion rocked the building, burning embers fell like snow drops all around them. Although the girl was light Bond staggered under her weight all the way to the car.
There were no keys in the Nissan, so Bond hot-wired the ignition. The powerful 480 bhp 3.8 litre twin turbo V6 engine burst into life. Bond squeezed the car from it’s lair. The wheels span then it erupted from behind the oil tank like a baby Godzilla.
Tokyo is a gigantic warren of narrow streets without name, with sometimes slow-moving traffic and relatively limited and expensive parking. In this city with such an excellent mass transit system, you would need a good reason to want to drive; Bond had such a reason as the car hung on to the grip rounding a tight corner. The huge, wealthy and fascinating metropolis which brings high-tech visions of the future side by side with glimpses of the old traditional Japan waited like a sleeping tiger to his left. The matt black Nissan tore down the bumpy road, beside him the girl’s head lolled from side to side as they negotiated the worst of the pot holes. Behind them the flames leapt in the sky, rabid explosions snapped at the air. Bond needed to make his decision about this escape fast. He could turn left out of the bay area and hope to get lost within the sheer size and frenetic pace of Tokyo. The downside to that argument was that Yakuza members could be on any corner, and rather than hiding they could be herded into a trap very quickly. Much of the city is a jungle of concrete and wires, with a mass of neon and blaring loudspeakers. During the rush hours, crowds jostle on the stations vying to be packed onto the fast outbound trains. But this was Japan, and Bond knew he would not be able to hide within the masses of humanity as they swept through enormous and bewilderingly complex stations. Bond kept his foot down, here in Tokyo bay he knew of another way out of the city.
Tokai Kisen operates high speed jetfoils from the Takeshiba Sanbashi Pier. They could be in Oshima in less than two hours.
At worse the overnight ferry is slower, but once on board they would be safe. The ship takes approximately six hours to arrive at Okata port. A suitable time for them both to recuperate; and it would mean they wouldn’t have to leave the car as a sign post to their next destination.
Bond entered the confines of the port terminal; he followed the international symbol of a picture of a car above a boat. With a groan the girl came ‘round. Instantly she struck out at Bond. Unable to lift his arm to block, the blows crashed upon him. Then she became aware of her surroundings. The car slewed to a halt.
“It’s ok you’re safe” A trickle of precious blood came from his mouth.
She squared up to him, panting like she’d just finished a 100m sprint.
“Do you speak English?” Bond asked “I said you’re safe”
Her eyes focused upon him, as her memory returned realization dawned upon her. She realized he must have taken her from the factory. His upper body was caked in blood, his face white from the loss of blood.
“You don’t look well” The effort to speak was too much for her. Her body melted and she rested back against the seat.
“I’m not” Bond picked at the seam of his suit jacket lapel. The stitching gave away and with an effort he withdrew a tightly folded wad of bank notes. He passed them to the girl.
“Car and two passengers, it’ll look less suspicious if you get the tickets”
The girl looked out of the window. The giant white ferry sat majestically at port.
The War Chest
Sevenoaks, Kent.
3 days to Complete Darkness
The country house of Chevening is in the Sevenoaks District of Kent. It is the official residence of the Foreign Secretary. However, under the current coalition government, Conrad Walker and the Deputy Prime Minister share the property. But not tonight.
Guests were still arriving as Ronald Cambridge moved with ease and grace through the lounge. The occasional nod, the effortless smile, the informed comment about gun dogs and the ludicrous ban on hunting, meant that the room full of people was soon negotiated.
An adjustment of his cuff and black tie followed by a cursory knock on the study door precipitated a curt ‘Come’
To the accompaniment of the rich sounding tick of the walnut grandfather clock which sat in the corner of the study, the Foreign Secretary, Conrad Walker sat in a dark leather wing back chair.
“Take a seat Ronald”
Putting his whisky tumbler on the Queen Anne table Ronald Cambridge sat.
“Shame about the no smoking policy”
“Yes, a Romeo and Juliet would go down rather well right now” said the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs. Commonly referred to as the Foreign Secretary, Conrad Walker was a senior member of Her Majesty's Government heading the Foreign and Commonwealth Office; a position regarded as one of the Great Offices of State. A Yorkshire man by birth and MP by desire, Walker’s remit included all relations with foreign countries. This included matters pertaining to the Commonwealth of Nations and the overseas territories in addition to the promotion of British interests abroad. And that meant full responsibility for the Secret Intelligence Service.
“Why are you here Ronald?” The question was delivered in the straight talking style associated to the Yorkshire MP.
“Conrad, am I not welcome at your party?”
The FS lent forward, and tapped his fingers on the table top “Welcome yes, on the invite list, no. Why are you here?”
“I’ve been made privy to some information. Thought I’d give you the heads up”
“How much?”
“Everything is about money with you. You were certainly born in the right county”
Walker looked around the opulently furnished room.
“Everything is about money”
“Nothing to worry about, just a superficial skim in the war chest”
“And this information couldn’t wait until we were next in the house?”
Cambridge smiled, and slowly shook his head. Walker checked his Rolex.
“You’ve got five minutes”
“No dinner?” The breathy voice took on a sarcastic tone
“Four minutes”
“It’s about the group known as Complete Darkness…”
Walker’s mouth dropped open.
“Ah, I see I have your attention” Cambridge relaxed in his chair
“You had my attention from the moment you walked in here, now you have my undivided interest, so talk to me about these damn terrorists”
“They’re not terrorists, Conrad. They are business men…like us”
“Don’t put me on the same **** tip as these terrorists…”
Cambridge held up his hands, he took the opportunity to examine his nails
“Please Conrad, hear me out”
“Go on”
“Complete Darkness are a group of business men…”
“Jesus, Ronald tell me you’re not one of them?”
“No, of course not. However in my position I deal with many companies and businessmen. They all have a wonderful pitch, to try to sway our decisions to use them for the development activities that we are investing in”
“You make cyber-warfare sound like Dragon’s den!”
Understanding that the source of the group came from Japan meant that the quip about ‘Dragon’s den’ was so close to the truth that Cambridge burst out laughing. He sobered up instantly and continued…
“Cyber-warfare refers to politically motivated hacking to conduct sabotage. Put in terms that we understand this is not politically motivated, really it’s just another form of business espionage. Complete Darkness simply want to break into a market that up to now has been a closed shop”
“Why not tout their business in the conventional way, if what they’ve got to sell is so good we could legitimately use them”
“Bringing down the Iranian nuclear plant and the Saudi oil fields is a wonderful sales pitch. Providing a solution, which the opposition can only dream of fast tracks your products to the very pinnacle of attention”
“It’s a radical approach”
“The attack here in three days is just a superficial show of strength”
“This smells like blackmail to me” Walker tensed.
“Conrad… we simply appoint the companies to administer a very fast solution. Cheap too. We will come out of this looking good in the eyes of the PM and the people”
“Who are the facilitators?”
“W.B.F&C”
“The bank?”
“A little more than just a bank. They have contacts…”
“I’m sure”
“The company they have introduced…”
“Complete Darkness terrorists incorporated?”
“This is a bona fide business, W.B.F&C only recommend the best”
“Does MI6 know about this? Do they know about your involvement?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m simply facilitating a safeguard to ensure we are properly defended against future cyber-attacks. The programs that real cyber terrorists will be using in 12 months’ time will make this little Xbox game look like a walk in the park. We’ve got to be ready for that. I’d expect you, as head of MI6 to be calming all those little spies down. Tell them a couple of hours in the dark won’t reduce their chances in the honours list”
“Ronald, one of the challenges we face is that we don’t know what threat we will be facing next month, let alone in a year's time”
“Britain has a National Cyber Security Programme in place, backed by 650 million pounds of investment. The MoD is far from complacent, but no one wants to be left with egg in their face should all their screens go blank. I’m providing a contingency”
“The MOD takes the protection of our systems extremely seriously it has a range of contingency plans in place to defend against increasingly sophisticated attacks”
“The Minister for International Security Strategy told you that did he?”
“You’re really sold on these people aren’t you?”
“Currently Britain's armed forces are at risk of being ‘fatally compromised’ by a sustained cyber-attack because the military is so dependent on technology that has no proven back-up.
The potential vulnerability must be addressed urgently, Shijomae Industries can provide the software to protect us in the future”
“Shijomie Industries?”
“Yes”
“Japanese?”
“Definitely”
“I’ll see what I can do”
“You won’t regret it…”
“Time’s up Ronald. We’ll run your company past GCHQ; if they pass the test we’ll use them”
“Thank you Conrad” Cambridge took his tumbler, and left the room.
Conrad Walker went to this desk, and speed dialled M
“Good evening Sir John”
“Foreign Secretary” he said with an air of the inevitable.
“Don’t sound so gloomy M, I think I have some good news”
“I could do with that…”
“I’ve just been handed some major intelligence about the Complete Darkness terrorist group”
“I’m all ears”
“Check out a Japanese company called Shijomae Industries”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, the World Bank Finance & Credit. They seem to be backing the Japanese in this venture. Also put tabs on Ronald Cambridge would you?”
“The Secretary of State for International Development?”
“The same yes. Oh and Sir John, do it quickly, I have a feeling that after you’ve listened to the security tape from the conversation I’ve just had with him tonight that he won’t be in that position for much longer”
“We’ll launch an investigation immediately”
“Glad to be of help, keep in touch” Walker put down the phone. He opened the drawer and withdrew a large Cuban cigar “To hell with rules”
Hot Patch
Espoo, Finland
3 days to Complete Darkness
Lake Bodom is a small three kilometer long lake in the suburbs of Espoo, about 22 kilometers west of the country’s capital, Helsinki. Ever present silver birch trees covered in lichen line the shore of the steel grey water. The comfortable Oittaa camp site offers all services imaginable for the week-end camper. Sauna, roof covered barbecue, equipment for mini-golf and bikes for rent. The site leads down to a beach with water slide. The sun was shining, burning off the last of the mist over the lake. Johan Helsingius was returning to his cabin from the restaurant. He returned his copper mesh lined wallet to his inside jacket pocket. Johan had been putting copper mesh into his wallets for over ten years now, ever since a teenager with a purple mohawk warned him that hackers could bump against his pocket with a card reader and steal credit card information. Johan was a very careful man.
When the email appeared on his PC the night before, he resisted the urge to open it. Instead he put a trace on the route the email had taken to reach him. Johan wasn’t looking to understand where the communication had originated but he wanted to know how devious and to what lengths the originator had gone to stop him finding out.
After the third spike failed to get past ten false IP addresses Johan knew someone was on to him. He pulled the plug on his hard drive and replaced it with a circuit board. Whoever was onto him would soon be able to hack into a series of messages that would indicate Johan was booked onto a flight Germany. The clues are difficult, but whoever had the capacity to engineer ten false IP addresses would be able to decipher the false trail he was now going to leave.
Even at this early hour a number of campers were swimming in the lake, Helsingius ignored them. He hurried back to his cabin. Time away from his computer was time wasted as far as Johan was concerned. His presence here was totally anonymous to his real persona.
Closing the door firmly behind him, he sat at the keyboard. To log in to his personal account, Johan used a digital password generator. Like a magician he twirled the plastic key chain-like device through his callused fingers. The display changed highlighting a new string of digits which would only be active for 60 seconds. His other hand danced over the keyboard, punching the six digits. Seconds passed; then his mobile lit up. He always added an extra layer of security to his personal accounts. Now he entered the special code received via the text message. As Johan surfed the browser, a program that he had written instantly removed all extensions from the sites visited. This was done to avoid accidently downloading malware from dangerous vulnerable Web sites.
This tiresome technique may seem like a ‘Mission Impossible’ level of security to the average user, but it was second nature to a hacker of Johan’s stature. The average user could learn a thing or two from hackers like Johan, who are not only skilled at breaking into others' PCs, but have devised sophisticated, and in some cases, extreme methods for protecting their own. Cybercriminals are finding new ways to bypass traditional security methods like passwords and antivirus software. Many hackers use free software that tests millions of commonly-used passwords in seconds.
One solitary ping announced a message. Johan opened the box. Quickly he scanned the text
“Passwords are now obsolete”.
Johan smiled today’s recognition code was correct. Even though he knew this conversation with the machine was totally untraceable he stuck to the agreed coded response.
“Traditional security methods are no longer enough. How does the average user defend himself?” Johan relaxed soon he would be able discover who was trying to spy on him.
The one word reply stressed him “NoScript”
NoScript itself allows trusted websites to run JavaScript. It allows two Web browsers to share sensitive conversations, or in the real world, normal activities like online banking. This is in case the other browser becomes infected.
However the use of ‘NoScript’ in this coded conversation meant caution.
Johan entered a web address, careful to type "https" instead of "http" so that no one could eavesdrop on the WiFi network.
Johan and his hacker friends always used ‘https’, and browser extension that encrypted online communications so that hackers or the police can't listen in.
Only now did he type real words ‘What’s the problem?”
The response was quick ‘Hot patch’
Hot patch was a term used by security companies to put a temporary band-aid over a breach. The patch closed any security flaw until the software company could fix it.
Johan typed a reply “What breach?”
The single ping announced the response “Yours Mister Helsingius”
The use of his personal name sent a shockwave through his body. The opening text about passwords identified the hacker on the other end of the conversation as the accomplished hacker and computer science student Linus Torvalds. But Johan would never dream of using his real name. Had the impossible happened, had he himself been hacked?
Johan decided to fight fire with fire, he knew the conversation was totally un traceable, but resisted the urge to write
“Is that you Linus?” Whoever was communicating to him would simply say yes. Instead Johan typed “What’s wrong?”
“I think we are under surveillance”
The window exploded into a million fragments of glass. The noise was momentarily earth shattering. The projectile flew into the cabin, embedding itself into the log wall behind his head. For just one scintillating moment Johan felt the intense heat of the incendiary device igniting, then a few seconds of excruciating pain as his hair burst into flame and then his eyeballs melted. And then, as the log cabin vaporized, Johan felt nothing.
***
Vauxhall Cross, London.
Bill Tanner looked up from his lap top “Looks like the Foreign Secretary’s intel was good. There’s been a massive explosion at Shijomae Industries in Tokyo”
“I’ll bet you a pound to a pinch of snuff that it’ll be 007. For once Bill I’m pleased about the destruction and body count that our secret agent is amassing” M’s smile was infectious.
“I’ll confirm the intelligence that 007 is actually in Japan with Q in Kuala Lumpur shall I sir?”
“It would seem the crafty old bugger was holding back on 007’s whereabouts”
“Probably a good idea, with the way that this Complete Darkness group seemingly able to listen in on any conversation”
“Jump to it Tanner, let’s see if we can tell the PM that the threat of the terrorist attack is over, before Mallory gets in to see him” M hit the intercom, the infectious smile spreading across his face.
“Moneypenny…Patch me through to the PM will you?”
***
Tokyo, Japan
The jacket, fedora and false moustache had been dis-guarded and lay crumpled on the floor. CEO Shijomae Industries and Leader of the Yamaguchi Yakuza, Tsukasa Shinoda sat at his desk in his shirt sleeves. His chief enforcer, Shinigami paced the floor of the traditionally furnished office. As he passed behind the distinguished Japanese man standing to attention in front of Shinoda, the man gave an involuntary shudder. His greying hair was slicked back, and over long for a man of his age. His thick tortoise shell spectacles were from the most expensive Italian designer house.
“This news is a great loss of face. How quickly can you replace the ‘alphanox chip’?” Shinoda asked, as he completed his signature on a memo.
“We would have to use the Osaka facility exclusively, I estimate six days” the distinguished man replied
“We need it in situ, in two days” Shinoda put down the Mont Blanc pen, and narrowed his eyes.
Rather than say ‘impossible’ Dr Suzuka thought on his response. After a moment a thin smile came to his face “Of course if I took personal control, I could assure you of a replacement in three days”
…Shinoda looked up at him. There was no need to emphasize the threat
“Do what you need to do Doctor. You have two days, we cannot fail”
“Of course Shinoda san, I will not rest until the replacement is complete” Dr Suzuka bowed and left the room. He knew that to argue would have been pointless. The door closed.
Slowly Shinoda looked up “The sooner we take back our own destiny and do not have to rely on men like that the better” His head bowed again.
“You are troubled master” The grim reaper enquired.
“I cannot believe she is dead”
“I know there is much sorrow”
“I mean I cannot believe it. We have been stupid”
“Sir?”
“We have assumed the Alphanox was destroyed in the fire”
“Yes”
“What if the Ninja had already taken the ‘chip’ and was escaping when the alarm was triggered?”
Shinigami let the thought expand, his smile widened then he pounced on the telephone “Bring in the guard from the factory”
Moments later the security guard from the oil tank was brought into the apartment. His hands shook; his polite bow was too low and lasted too long. His two shaven headed captors stood like monoliths beside him.
“Tell me again what did you see last night at the factory?” The voice held no sweetness.
“The car was parked by the oil tank. I thought it best not to approach it. I came to tell you” The man stammered.
“Yes, you were told to go back and guard it”
“Sorry yes. I returned too late. I returned as they were driving away. Please believe me I had no opportunity to stop them”
“They?” Shinoda inclined his head.
“The intruder, and the man they brought in earlier”
“Bond?” Shinigami spat in his ear. The guard jumped, his whole body shook with fear.
“I don’t know his name, but it was the westerner that was brought in”
“Very good; now describe the Ninja with this man Bond”
“She was unconscious” His eyes were wide with terror
Shinoda stood up, his black leather chair rocked back. Shinoda pointed at the little man but he looked at Shinigami as he spoke. His finger shook with rage
“She? You see it could be Miko that was with him. Does Bond have Miko?”
Shinigami rounded the desk and moved close to his boss, his eyes hypnotic
“I beg you, do not raise your hopes Shinoda san. If Miko were alive she would have killed Bond...”
“She was unconscious. He has told us”
Shinigami shook his head “Bond would be dead the moment she came to. The intruder must have also been a woman. Secret Service? If the intruder triggered the alarm after stealing the micro-chip she would have had it when they escaped together from the factory. It would be logical to believe they have the micro-chip with them now”
“Then Mr. Bond and the Ninja have taken two things from me. One very personal, and one very necessary for our plans to progress. Please Mr. Shinigami find them both and kill them, and bring back the micro-chip. You have twenty four hours, I’m sure Dr Suzuka would also appreciate a speedy return of his little creation”
“The car was special” The small security guard blurted out. His voice loud.
“Special?, explain” Shinoda demanded
“A black Nissan Juke GT-R not a shiny one. I think they are very rare” He bowed again. Hope spreading through his body
“Very good, your information is most important” Shinoda turned to Shinigami
“You now have a good description of their car. That won’t be too hard to find”
Shinigami bowed. He snapped his fingers and the big guards left the apartment with the small frightened security guard squeezed between them. An uneasy silence accompanied them along the corridor.
At the elevator Shinigami dusted down the shoulder of the security guard. The big men backed away in response to the movement. Then, quietly Shinigami said
“Thank-you for your invaluable information”
“It was my pleasure to help” The man bowed again “You must believe me, I had no chance to stop them”
“I understand perfectly”
The elevator doors sighed open. Shinigami gestured for the small man to enter the elevator. As the security guard stepped forward he realised there was no floor; he turned to protest. Shinigami thrust out his hand. The palm struck the guard in the chest. In a blur of movement he pirouetted on the spot to deliver a back kick which sent the guard into the void of the elevator shaft. His scream took a long time to fade away.
Shinigami strolled to the window and looked out upon the vast metropolis of Tokyo. The cloud of pollution hung low over the city.
“You can run Mister Bond, you can hide Ninja. But I will find you. I will take back that which belongs to us, and I will avenge the death of my lovely Miko” The speed of his turn surprised the big men.
“They escaped in a car. A matt black Nissan Juke GT-R which direction did they leave, where is it now. Put the word out. We have eyes on every street corner; make sure no one blinks until they are found. We have men at every airport; in every police station; at every port. I want it found within the hour” The power of his voice was like a typhoon.
Oshima
Izu Islands, Japan.
2.5 days to Complete Darkness
Hotel Akamon hid it’s splendour behind the traditional luscious red painted nine ft high wooden gates. Bond had asked a member of the crew for the best hotel on Oshima Island, and in his answer they had found the perfect hideaway. The gates closed softly behind the GT-R.
Their villa was presented in a beautifully traditional Japanese-style. The living quarters featured a simulated paper wall that led out to their own private outdoor hot spring bath, known locally as ‘Onsen’. The water cascaded into the marble tub from an artificial waterfall. The volcanic rock face formed a natural barrier to hide the bathing activity from prying eyes from the main body of the hotel. The manager pulled back the paper wall glass door to reveal the lavish colours of the formal Japanese garden that sat beyond the outdoor bathing facility.
“Hotel Akamon has a very large Japanese garden for guests to enjoy” He smiled and spread his hand over the vista, his smile widened when Bond dropped a 1000 yen note in his hand.
“Traditional Japanese cuisine is served with freshly caught seafood for your pleasure at any time of day, in our wonderful restaurant…” He looked at Bond’s blood stained shirt under the ripped jacket. The girl by his side cocooned in a blanket procured from the ferry over black leggings and ankle length Tabi boots. “…or maybe here on your private villa” He offered as he bowed his way out of the room.
Not one to waste a view, Bond took in the splendour of the garden for a fleeting glance. The trees framed the night leaning into each other as if they were whispering. Then, fully clothed fell on the bed and slept. The girl curled up beside him, sharing body heat.
***
Otto Killman snatched the receiver from it’s cradle silencing the voice from the loud speaker at the other end of the phone. The office reverberated from the sound of Killman’s voice
“Stolen? I understood it had been destroyed. Now Shinoda San you tell me it was stolen. How could it have been stolen?”
The silence was betrayed by the pain in Killman’s eyes as the voice from Japan outlined the latest twist in the micro-chip disaster…
“MI6? MI6 were at the factory. Wait ‘till I get my hands on Cambridge”
“No…say nothing that could betray us. We are working on a replacement chip, and I have also set my best man on the task to recover the original. Don’t worry Complete Darkness will go ahead with the attack. We will be ready I give you my personal assurance”
“Could MI6 have enlisted the help of another hacker, Johan Helsingius, Linus Torvalds or Connie Webb?”
“Helsingius was vaporized. Torvalds and Webb are under surveillance. They have not been compromised by MI6”
“What about the MI6 man known as Q?”
“He is still in Kuala Lumpur; he is no danger to us. Complete Darkness is to go ahead Mister Killman, have no worries; I gave you my personal assurance. The chip will be ready”
Killman decided to put more pressure on his Japanese client
“We have many clients depending upon this attack. Do not fail”
“Please Mister Killman, remember you work for us. It is only because my face is not acceptable to your European clients that I employ you to be the face of my business”
“Of course I remember the instructions my company are under. The stress was just momentarily out of control, please accept my apology”
“Apology accepted. Remember Complete Darkness will prevail”
“Of course”
“Oh I was wondering, once the chip is in place has Cambridge indicated where he would like his little nuclear war to take place?”
“Yes, South Africa!”
***
James Bond woke up alone. He threw aside the single cotton sheet that covered his naked body. He prowled about the room. His excellent memory had instantly updated him on where and why he was here. From deep in his subconscious he recalled the girl removing his clothing during a deep laden sleep. He headed for the wardrobe, and slid open the door. The torn jacket hung to the right. Bond went through the right hand pocket. The micro-chip was still there; he relaxed. The disappearance of the girl was now his only concern. Dropping the micro-chip back in the pocket he headed for the garden, the sound of the water falling into the hot tub had alerted him.
The girl sat in the onsen, her arms rested upon the marble sides. Her dark hair framed the milky white of her skin. The bruises were livid on her arms, testimony to the battle she had emerged victorious from.
“What a magnificent view” Bond said.
The girl turned her head and admired his naked body…
“Yes it is. Please do join me, this is most relaxing”
Bond slipped into the tub; the hot needles of water massaged his aching body, cocooning him in a warm envelope of water.
“You look better” She smiled; the dark circles under her eyes made her look gothic.
“You should see me on a good day”
“I would like that Mister?”
“Bond….James Bond”
They relaxed in the hot swirling waters.
“Onsen water is believed to have healing powers derived from the mineral content. I am afraid I do not know the mineral composition here...but it feels very therapeutic”
“Very”
“I am so pleased you are not embarrassed to be with me, naked”
“Not at all”
“Japanese people often talk of the benefits of naked communion for breaking down barriers and getting to know people in a relaxed atmosphere”
“Knowing your name would be a good start”
Her smile and laughter delighted him…
“So sorry, I am Kohana Kawaguchi… I work for the Japanese Intelligence Service”
“Nice to meet you” Bond lent across the pool and offered his hand, Kohana’s hand came out of the warm waters and they shook. She was soft and gentle.
“I’m pleased we are on the same side” Kohana smiled.
“Why were you at Shijomae Industries last night?” Bond asked
Kohana took a slow intake of breath, her eye’s rolled, revealing that she was going to tell Bond everything, and that it would only take a moment to get over the guilt of revealing her mission. James Bond settled back into the corner of the bath, the waters worked their magic on his battered body. Kohana drew her glistening wet hand across her rose red lips, as she spoke the droplets shivered upon her mouth.
“Tsukasa Shinoda?” Her head dipped inviting him to confirm Bond knew the name
“The CEO of Shijomae Industries” Bond answered easily
“Shinoda is also leader of the Yamaguchi Yakuza”
“Isn’t that illegal for a CEO to belong to a criminal organisation?”
“Yakuza are regarded as semi-legitimate organizations in Japan”
“Define semi legitimate”
“For example, immediately after the Kobe earthquake, the Yamaguchi-gumi mobilized itself to provide disaster relief services. This was reported by the media much to the embarrassment of the Japanese government who were much slower to respond. Shinoda repeated the supply of aid after the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. Local groups opened their offices to refugees. For this reason, many law abiding citizens regard Yakuza income and hustle as a collection of feudal tax”
“Thanks for putting me right. Why were you at the factory?” Bond insisted.
“Shijomae Industries make banking software, the kind that can spot money laundering.
A short while after restructure started in Kobe, Shijomae Industries oversaw the installation of their anti-money laundering system at the Mizuho bank, the same also happened in Tōhoku. We believe the micro-chips within the software allow Shinoda to turn the system off, or at least turn a blind eye for a period of time”
“When he deposits his pay check”
“With just a click of a mouse”
“You can bet your life Shinoda’s friends use those banks too”
“Or other banks that now carry the same software. That’s how the Yamaguchi get around the semi legal aspect, they leave no digital footprint, they pay for everything from the account with clean money”
Bond thought about the micro-chip in his jacket pocket. Why had the girl stolen it?
“The latest shipment was ready for dispatch last night?” Bond asked
“Yes, the one designated for the cyber-attack on the United Kingdom”
“There’s no Yakuza presence in the UK”
“This isn’t the exclusive rights of Yakuza. The modern world relies very heavily on technology. Shinoda san employs the technological resource to bring down most institutions ”
“The black outs are just a front?”
“Yes, it is hard to predict when a natural disaster like an earthquake or tsunami will strike. The Complete Darkness wing of his business is a way of speeding up the requirement to replace cyber equipment. It also allows local governments then take the opportunity to get a quick financial fix using the micro-chips that Shijomae supply” Kohana rubbed her injured arm.
In way of acknowledgement Bond remarked….
“By the way, that was an impressive performance on the roof top last night”
“Thank-you. Miko was a very worthy opponent”
Bond recalled the words he’d heard during his escape, he’d thought the word was Niko the cat. But upon reflection it was Miko
“Miko?”
“Miko is a shinto term for priestess”
“She fought well for a priestess”
“There is another meaning to the word”
Bond raised his eyebrows hoping she would continue…
“The lines are often blurred between what's actually possible with martial arts, and what's simply just stories in Ninja legends”
“Ninjitsu? That’s your discipline?”
“Amongst others yes… The Miko is a sorceress, someone whose skills go way past ninja training. She is one most skilled in the art of assassination and seduction equally”
“Many women possess those skills” Ha Bond laughed it off. “Shinoda told me he had sent an assassin with such skills to kill a man named Tam Lin Tong…”
“I know there are only a few men alive that possess the ability to either create such masterpieces as the micro-chips used by Shinoda, or to work out how to stop their usefulness. We believe it was Miko that dispatched Mr. Tong”
“I would have thought that people that possess such skills would be in demand?”
“Shinoda already has his expert”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr Suzuka”
“What’s their plan?” Bond was disappointed it was not one of the names on Q’s list. He let the moment go without any emotion. His eyes urged her to continue.
“Destroy reliance on the technological world. Go back to feudal ways of old Japan” Kohana had a real fear in her voice as she revealed the prophecy.
“Why does he want to eliminate the opposition?”
“I don’t know that’s why I was sent to get the micro-chip. We figure they can only make one at a time. Shinoda will have to come out into the open to try to retrieve it in order for the complete darkness attack on United Kingdom to go ahead on time”
“To come out in the open could be dangerous for Shinoda”
“The danger excites him”
“Then they’ll be coming after us”
“Are you ready?
“Always” Bond eased himself out of the tub.
Bond dressed in his suit trousers, a white t-shirt and black jumper supplied by the hotel. He rotated his head and listened to the insects coming to life now that the sun had gone down. Kohana came into the lounge area of the apartment fastening a vivid red and silver embroided Yukata robe.
“Very nice”
“Thank-you”
Bond went to the telephone “I think I better phone home…”
“No James we cannot use the hotel telephone to contact our superiors. Shinoda would be on to us in a heartbeat.
“We need to formulate our exit strategy” Bond lifted the receiver.
“They took your mobile phone?”
Bond nodded; then replaced the receiver “Does your car have a tracking device?”
Kohana waited until Bond had moved away from the telephone, then she shook her head; she pulled at the sleeves of the Yukata. She completed the traditional summer Kimono outfit by picking up a small fan. She fluttered it in front of her face.
“GPS?”
“Sorry no it has a cloaking devise, otherwise we believe that Shinoda would have been able to trace me at the factory”
Bond returned to the phone, and as the girl moved to stop him, he picked up the receiver.
“Don’t worry” he raised his palm to stop her “I think I know someone that could help us”
“A friend?”
“Hardly, he’s called Q”
“The man you were with in Kuala Lumpur” The words came out quickly
Bond looked quizzically at her…
“We are secret service Mr. Bond…and you were on CNN. You forget you destroyed the PETRONAS Towers” She raised her arms above her head and mimed the decent from the sky-bridge. “Please Mr. Bond be careful what you say on the phone”
Bond smiled back at her. He cradled the receiver between his cheek and shoulder
“Don’t worry I’m secret service too. I’ve done this kind of thing before” Suddenly he held out the phone to her “A Japanese voice would be less suspicious though”
Kohana took hold of the telephone “How should I identify myself?”
“Ask him if he remembers who wrecked his car?”
Spy’s die
Izu Islands, Japan.
2 days to Complete Darkness
The Sunseeker 28 motor yacht cut through the oil black water at almost 30 knots, it’s belly skimming over the swell of the ocean.
Inside the main cabin Shinigami sat at a table studiously oiling the blade of his katana. Around him the four other members of his Yakuza clan checked their own traditional and non-traditional weapons. Shinigami looked lovingly at the katana. The traditional sword is characterized by a distinctive appearance: a curved, slender, single-edged blade with an oval guard and long claret braded grip to accommodate both hands.
Historically the sword had been associated with the samurai of feudal Japan and is renowned for its sharpness and strength. Shinigami had used the katana, a weapon handed down to him from his Father, for ritual killings ever since he had been employed by the Yakuza. His elaborate fast moving swing of the sword had earned him his nickname of the grim reaper.
One of the crew entered the cabin “We need to turn out all the lights sir, we will be there in fifteen minutes.
“Do it” Shinigami pulled the black hood down over his face; his clan did the same.
In the darkness only the evil intent in his eyes shone.
***
The shrill sound of the telephone cut through the stillness of the night. Kohana picked up the receiver.
“Mushi mushi”
“Friends await you at the temple after evening class is finished” The line went dead. She replaced the phone.
“We are being picked up at the temple”
“When?” Bond asked. Kohana checked the clock.
“We must go now, it will take us twelve, fifteen minutes to get there”
James Bond slid open the door, the cool of the night rushed in over them. The moon hung like a big fat water filled balloon illuminating the clouds to a fuzzy honey colour.
“Lovely night for a stroll”
“Oh James, it’s a tsukimi”
“Moon viewing?” Bond translated
“Yes, the custom of moon viewing is called tsukimi and widely celebrated in Japan. It's said that this moon viewing custom was from China. There are only two each year. One takes place on the lunar calendar, and the other on the solar calendar. Dates changes every year but usually falls in September or October. The moon isn't always full, but it's said that the moon on the night is the brightest and the most beautiful in the year”
Bond held out his arm “Come on”
They stepped out into the moonlight.
“How do Japanese people celebrate Tsukimi?” Bond asked as they left the confides of the hotel
“It's done in a quiet manner. Traditionally, susuki (pampas grass) and other autumn flowers are decorated in a vase. Dango (dumplings) and satoimo (taro potatoes) are offered to the moon in an altar. People look at the moon, enjoying the beauty quietly. Tsukimi also has the meaning of celebrating the autumn harvest”
As they entered the trees the moonlight became dapled.
***
HMS Astute is a nuclear-powered submarine in the Royal Navy. When launched in 2007 Astute became the second submarine of the Royal Navy to be named for the characteristic of shrewdness and discernment. The first was a World War II Amphion-class which gained many kill accreditations during her operational years.
In contrast the current Astute suffered an embarrassing start when she ran aground off the Isle of Skye during her trials. Since then she has had a murder on board, and suffered allegations that she could not reach her design speed.
“Twenty fathoms, steady. There’s a shelf up ahead sir, should I slow?”
“No. Full speed ahead” Captain Rees hoped that the improvements made to the reactor circuits would enable that full speed to now be achieved.
The reassuring ping from the sonar urged them forward. Modern submarines rely on sonar for detecting the presence of enemy vessels and ‘seeing’ the underwater terrain. Astute had the most advanced system, called ‘towed array’. The system uses a long cable to which hydrophones are attached. At sea, the submarine deploys the cable so that it trails far behind.
This system uses a device called a sonobuoy, consisting of a hydrophone mounted in a floating buoy. It is designed so that when a sound, such as that of a submarine engine, is picked up, the detector operates a small radio transmitter that sends out a signal that can be received by patrolling antisubmarine planes.
“Status Number one”
After a moment to analyze the read outs the Number one gave his prognosis.
“If we hold this speed for another ten minutes sir; then we can surface launch the zodiac and go ashore. We should be able to rendezvous with the asset at the temple on Oshima in twenty minutes”
“Very good” Captain Rees turned away. By continuing to approach the land at this speed he was putting the ship and all his crew at risk. He tapped his fingers on his thighs.
“Relay 20 to the Kuala Lumpur asset would you?”
“Yes sir” after a moment the signals officer asked “Confirmation to London sir?”
“Apparently not, we’re on our own on this one”
***
The honey coloured moon lit their path to the temple. Their stealth extenuated all the noises from the woods at their side. But apart from the crickets and frogs something else was forming a beat to their journey.
They heard the noise long before they emerged from the forest path. Bond could not place the click, click, click sound in the darkness, but Kohana’s smile assured him it was nothing to be concerned about.
The temple was back lit against the coast line. Naked flame torches lined the path up to the front gates.
As an explanation Kohana pointed to the temple.
“It was a Shinto shrine. When the monks moved out it was bought by a famous film actor. He converted it into a martial arts academy” as if to confirm her claim a blood curdling ‘kiai’ echoed from the interior. Bond regarded the ancient building.
“Keeping in tune with the past whilst Japan moves forward” Bond nodded
They were met at the gate by two young boys. Their faces were stern, their grey tunics clean.
A fast exchange of guttural words passed between one of the boys and Kohana.
She bowed deeply to the boys, then explained to Bond
“It seems things have not moved too far forward. I, as a woman, and you as a…”
“…Foreigner” Bond helped. Kohana smiled at his understanding
“We are not allowed to enter the temple”
Bond smiled at the boys, and gave a small polite bow.
“That’s alright, we can just go around the parameter, get down to the jetty from there”
“Not that easy, I’m afraid. We have called at their gates in the night. As a man you cannot turn your back on their hospitality. It would be disrespectful”
“I’m slightly underwhelmed by their hospitality” Bond looked down at the two scowling faces. They remained motionless before him.
“They are showing you respect. They will wait until I have gone until they smile at you”
“Where are you going?”
“I will go down to the jetty. When our friends arrive I will send your new friend to collect you” Kohana pointed to the boys.
“I’d rather us not be separated”
Kohana frowned “Don’t you think I can find a British Submarine on my own?”
“Well it is dark”
“There will be a loss of face if you don’t go in” Kohana scowled
“I thought I wasn’t allowed into the temple”
“You will be allowed to watch from outside”
“Just like Henman hill”
She frowned again, and then explained their requirements to the boys. Instantly one boy beckoned for Kohana to follow him. As they set off around the perimeter of the temple, the second boy looked at Bond and smiled. With upmost respect he opened the outer gate and bowed.
Ahead of them the shrine was immediately recognizable from the ‘torii’ a gate of two upright poles topped by two cross-pieces. Even in the darkness Bond could see they were painted a bright vermilion. The entrance to the sacred enclosure lay beyond.
The two water troughs near the entrance both had ladles ritually laid in front for the important water purification ceremony. The ladles are used to pour a little over your fingers, then into your cupped hand to rinse your mouth. The pathway to the shrine itself was marked with twisted straw ropes.
These ropes also denote the presence of a god, or gods. They are plentiful in Japan and can be seen tied round trees or rocks or strung across the front of the shrine building. Another rope, this time attached to a bell or gong, hung from the eaves.
Once inside the grounds Bond felt instantly at peace. The rise and fall of the kendo training session within the open sided dojo seemed in tune with the gentle breeze which wafted the heady aroma of herbs and sweat through the cool air.
The boy gestured for Bond to sit, as he did so he glimpsed Kohana and her small guide descend to the beach. The gentle crashing of the waves onto the shore below added to the hypnotic rhythm of the night.
Bond sat cross legged on a polished wooden square; it was one of five in the centre of a brushed pebble garden. Larger stepping stones radiated from the wooden squares.
Inside the dojo twelve kendo disciples went through a fast attack move, in unison six of the players stepped forward their bokken slashing down on the defenders dark polished helmets. Once complete, the silence was all consuming.
The boy returned with a simple tray containing a porcelain urn of tea, a single small bowl rocked next to it. Majestically at the boy’s side, appeared an elderly man. He wore a clinically white ‘gi’ the two piece uniform of an exponent of various martial arts, around his waist he wore an old ragged belt, which at one time in it’s history had been black. His closely shaven head revealed just a hint of dark grey. His face was tanned to the shade of walnut, with lines of experience radiating from his eyes were deep. He bowed. Bond got to his feet and returned the gesture.
“The concept of Kendo is to discipline the human character through the applied study of the katana or Japanese sword” His hand swept along the line of the dojo, his English was good. Bond followed his hand. Instantly the twelve armour clad players began another vigorous attack and defence sequence, this time a cut to the wrist was followed to a thrust to the head.
“To mould the mind and body; and cultivate a vigorous spirit. And through correct and rigid training strive for improvement in the art of Kendo”
“And to forever pursue the cultivation of oneself” Bond completed the saying
The old man smiled. “You have not stumbled upon us by accident I think”
“On the contrary, I did not know of your magnificent school, I am simply passing”
“I do not refer to your actual presence” The old man deftly stepped to the side. Again his arm swept a path across the dojo “I refer to you being a warrior”
“You are too kind” Bond held the man’s gaze.
“Please rest here and appraise our practice, I must attend my pupils” He clapped his hands, and the boy flew to his side, he dropped to his knees and began preparing the tea.
“I will; thank-you” Bond returned to his sitting position.
Inside the dojo Bond watched the old man take up his position on a raised platform at the far side of the practice area. He waved his hand, and two players engage in a match. Their wooden ‘bokken’ or wooden swords began to parry each attack. One player jumped forward and smashed his sword into the head piece of his opponent. Had the sword been made of steel the head would have been cleaved in two.
Kendo, the art of Japanese swordsmanship, has a long and rich history. Japanese arms and armour have long been influenced by those of China. Japanese swords were originally not the curved swords we see today but were flat straight swords of a very primitive construction used for thrusts and simple strikes only. The kendo bokken emulates this historical battle scene. Until the two-handed ‘katana’ swords were created, battles centred on mounted warriors protected by heavy armour wielding their swords in their right hands.
In modern Kendo, there are two types of attacks: strikes and thrusts.
Strikes are allowed to only three points on the body-the top of the head, the right and left sides of the waist and the forearms. Thrusts are usually permitted only to the throat. Unlike western fencing where two opponents show each other only their sides, in Kendo the opponents stand face to face and these four target areas were chosen because they are the most difficult. In competitive matches, it is not enough for your bamboo sword to just touch the opponent; points are awarded only when the attacks are done properly to the exact target with good control and a yell or Ki ai.
Bond watched the various partners attack, thrust and score.
His awareness was heightened by the sound of a footstep displacing the pebbles from the garden that surrounded him. Bond momentarily thought it was remiss of the boy to walk upon the pebbles and not keep to the stepping stones. Instantly he knew that would never happen.
Bond rolled forward. The straight sword slashed downward cleaving into the wooden block. As Bond came to his feet, he twisted to face his opponent. The attacker was dressed in black, only the shining silver of the sword which was proving difficult to remove from the block placed his outline from the shadows. Bond grabbed the porcelain tea urn and hurled it into the ninja’s face. As it smashed against the mask the attacker put up his hands. Bond dived low taking the man around the waist knocking the wind from him. They landed on the pebbles. Bond drove his fist into the side of the man’s jaw. Instantly the slacking of the body told Bond the man was unconscious.
But the danger was not over. Movement in the shadows alerted Bond to a new attack. The two ninjas advanced. Bond attempted to remove the sword from the block, but his vigorous twisting only achieved it breaking. Bond held the rope covered handle with only about four inches of blade extending from it.
The old man in the dojo looked beyond the traditional Kendo match taking place on the well-lit mat. He looked outside into the darkness and saw Bond retreating across his garden. In the background the two ninjas advanced upon him. His many years of martial arts training allowed him to watch both battles at the same time.
One kendo player advanced, his bokken cutting the air as the defender parried the blows, and natural spirit cries of the kiai accompanied the click and thud of the bamboo sword striking the armour. The movement was beautiful, as graceful as any ballet. In the shadows of the garden the first ninja struck. He thrust the sword into Bond’s mid-section. Bond brought the broken sword down onto the blade. The second attacker pirouetted on the spot, swinging his sword at Bond’s head. Bond dived for the front leg of the first ninja. His shoulder smashed into the man’s thigh and his stance was broken. The ninja rolled over, bringing a clawed hand into Bond’s face, but the broken ragged blade from Bond’s sword penetrated the palm. His scream was controlled as he wriggled out of the grip. Bond attacked with him thumb. He jabbed it into the eye of the attacker. Now the man screamed openly. The second ninja slashed downward with his sword. Bond kicked the leg of the first man so that the leg met the blow. Bond leapt to his feet. He threw a handful of pebbles into the eyes of the second ninja.
Temporarily blinded the ninja grabbed at Bond. He latched on to him and brought himself close. Bond butted him twice, three, four times. From the resounding crunch Bond knew the nose had been found and broken. Blood seeped through the man’s mask, the coughs betraying the blocked airways. Bond quickly searched the man’s clothing, he extracted two throwing knives. As the ninja tried to grab at Bond’s shoulder Bond thrust the knives into the man’s gut.
Inside the dojo, the attacking player feinted left then brought the bokken down onto his opponent’s wrist. The defender dropped his arms and brought up his own bamboo sword in a stunning counter move. The pair glided across the mat, their speed and grace un-paralleled.
In the garden Bond withdrew the throwing knives from the ninja’s stomach. Bond got to his feet.
The whooshing sound made him turn; the fourth ninja held a length of thin rope, at one end a weighted blade now rotated. The ninja attacked, swinging the blade in a figure eight motion. The blade threatened to slice through Bond’s face, or up through his abdomen. Bond stooped to pick up one of the fallen swords. In an awkward crouch the ninja advanced as Bond tried to poke the sword into the gap, like a boy puts a stick into the spokes of a bicycle wheel.
In an instant the ninja brought the blade back and cast it like a fly fisherman. The deadly blade shot forward. Bond dived to the left, but as he did he threw the sword at the ninja. The blade cut into the ninja’s arm. The wound did not deter him; he lashed out a side kick which caught Bond in the solar plexus. Bond dropped to the ground. The ninja now intended to use the whirling blade like a whip, and beat Bond to death; he positioned himself above Bond’s prone body. Bond kicked up catching his attacker in the groin. The whirling blade dropped. Bond caught hold of the rope and pulled it toward him, he expected the attacker to fall, but the ninja executed a neat front somersault and landed on his feet. He bent his knees and angled his body and fired in three ridge hand strikes to the body. Bond used his knees to deflect the blows. The ninja felt inside his tunic and brought out his own knife. With relish he dropped onto to Bond to finish him.
Bond seized the attacking hand. Like a slippery eel the ninja twisted his body away, the knife slashed down again. Bond smashed his fist into the ninja’s elbow, then grabbed the man’s tunic and hoisted himself behind the attacker. They rolled over, the ninja trying to force Bond onto the ground, but that was the position Bond was looking for.
Bond executed a judo naked choke hold on the ninja. Known as a blood choke because it restricts blood flow to the brain via the carotid arteries. When done correctly, it causes unconsciousness in just a few seconds.
Bond’s left arm encircled the ninja's neck; he instinctively felt his opponent's trachea at the crook of his own elbow. Bond's left hand grasped his own upper right biceps. His right hand was perfectly placed behind his opponent's head. Bond took in a big lungful of air and began to squeeze.
His elbows came together so that the lateral pressure from his biceps and radius bone applied a crushing vice like grip to both sides of the ninja’s neck.
When applied properly unconsciousness occurs in less than 10 seconds but Bond knew recovery from the choke was just as quick. Bond placed his right leg across the stomach of the ninja. He then wrapped his other leg over his own shin, creating a figure-four with his legs. This extra pressure allowed Bond to limit his opponent’s movement and stay close on his back. He squeezed the life out of the ninja, the pebbles rubbed against Bond’s back. The ninja wriggled again, desperately looking for a way out, his breath became ragged. Suddenly the body went limp. Bond continued to squeeze for another ten seconds, then he released the body and kicked out from beneath him. Gasping for breath with hands on knees to support himself Bond stood up. He glanced at the dojo. Through the battling pairs of Kendo students Bond saw the old Sensei (Teacher) looking back at him.
From his seat in the dojo, the old man nodded at Bond’s victory.
The two Kendo players removed their helmets and bowed to each other in mutual respect.
In the garden, Bond melted into the shadows and vanished like a ghost.
Say a little Prayer
Cape Town International Airport
2 days to Complete Darkness
Through the eyes of a child the wispy thin cloud that led the long white puffy cumulus clouds that slid over the flat top of table mountain looked like a crocodile.
Inside the immigration hall the officer pushed the passport back across the counter.
“Thank-Mister Bourtas, have a good stay in Cape Town”
“Thank-you” Linus Torvalds squeezed the passport into his rucksack and made his way to the exit.
The line of passengers waiting for a Touch Down taxi went down quickly, Torvalds slipped into the back of the silver Mercedes.
“Queen Victoria Hotel, on the Waterfront” He sat back in air-conditioned luxury. The messages that had haunted his email account for the past two days had told him a suite at the hotel had been booked for him. When the prophesized death Johan Helsingius in Espoo turned into reality Torvalds had quickly packed a bag and headed straight to the airport. The ticket and passport were waiting in the left luggage, just as the emails had promised. Torvalds looked at his own photograph; it had been taken just over one year ago.
***
The hotel reception area was a mixture of crystal chandeliers, white marble, blue velvet and gold leaf. Linus’s grey baggy tee-shirt dirty blue levis and rucksack stood him in stark contrast to the designer clothes worn by other guests in the hotel. Un-phased by his own appearance Linus strode up to the reception desk. The three story area was speared by the dramatic spiral staircase in the middle. Everything was modern except for a single signature lamp shade of deep purple which had been employed to add a touch of regal eccentricity as an ode to the historic figure after whom the hotel is named.
“Good day, I have a room booked in the name of Bourtas” He swept his hair back out of his eyes.
The skeptical desk clerk checked his PC then adopted a broad welcoming smile as the data confirmed the expensive suite booking.
“Could I take your passport please, sir?”
Linus rummaged around in the rucksack and brought out the passport
“Thank-you sir” He hit the gold plated ornate bell, and a porter appeared.
The two men travelled in silence above the domestic ballet in the reception area in the glass fronted elevator. The hum of the lift was tempered with the soft un memorable music that accompanied them.
The suite had a rich aroma of oranges and had a wonderful view of the energetic harbour and the majestic Table Bay. Linus made the obligatory tourist pilgrimage to the balcony, and reveled in the wonder of Table Mountain. As he rounded the corner the Cape Town Stadium came into view along with the living reptile that consumed most of the city's congested traffic.
The porter presented Linus with the room key card. His smile faded when he realized a tip would not be given in response.
Linus felt like a fish out of water as he wandered around the opulent room. He dropped his rucksack on the biscuit leather hide couch, and then explored the other rooms. He let his hand trail along the Egyptian cotton sheets on the king size bed. Compared to his own accommodation this was a luxury he was unaccustomed to, but at what price.
The sound of the room door closing brought him back to reality, Linus rushed to the living room. A man stood in the center of the room.
“Hello you must be Linus, I’m Major Boothroyd, I work for British secret Service” Q held out his hand.
Linus approached the old man as a beaten dog approaches a stranger with food
***
Izu Islands, Japan.
2 days to Complete Darkness
James Bond jogged down the pathway to the jetty. The boat’s engine kicked up a spray of water as it wheeled away from the jetty. The lights in the cabin illuminated the struggle on the aft deck. Kohana struggled to repress the black clad ninja that stood behind her. As a ninja he stood out from the others that had fought at the temple, he held a beautiful katana to the girl’s throat.
Bond ran along the wooden jetty but the Sunseeker was making space between them.
Helplessly Bond looked around him for some type of weapon, or vehicle to pursue the fleeing craft.
There was nothing.
Bond felt his anger rise as the boat slipped away from him. They were almost two hundred meters from the shore when HMS Astute surfaced, blocking their escape. The powerful search light caught the Sunseeker in it’s beam. The boat made a dramatic change in course. But immediately lost it’s speed as it was hit by the submarine fired electric impulse harpoon. The boat lost all power, the lights blacked out.
Bond saw the ninja dive into the sea. The crew had already launched the zodiac rubber speed boat. In less than thirty seconds the zodiac was along side.
It was another five minutes before Kohana was back in his arms.
As they kissed Bond heard a familiar voice
“Think yourself lucky Commander, I’m not always going to be on hand to stop your girlfriends running away from you”
Bond turned Kohana toward the voice and held his hand out in gratitude The man was perhaps an inch or two taller than Bond but no more than five pounds heavier. His hair was very black, and neatly cut. The accent was pure southern England.
“Harry, I thought you’d have been pensioned off and living in a bar in Malta by now”
Major Harry Fawkes and James Bond embraced
“Sounds tempting, but as long as you keep screwing up for Queen and Country I suppose I’m needed to cover your…”
“You two know each other?” Kohana interrupted
“We’ve been involved in a few scrapes. Have you changed employer Harry?”
“No, just hitching a ride” He gestured back to the sub. “What’s your current objective?”
Bond felt for the chip in his pocket, he brought it out and held it up to the light.
“I need to get this to Q branch, or at least tell someone I’ve got it”
They jumped into the zodiac.
“The Complete Darkness terrorist group are planning an attack on the UK. Somehow there plan needs this micro-chip to start the party. I have the only one, thought I’d draw the real power behind the group out, see who popped up to get it”
“Ninjas?”
“Complete Darkness are run by a Japanese businessman”
The zodiac sped over the waves back toward the Astute. Major Fawkes looked back at Bond
“Looks like they sent some heavies to try and get it back”
James Bond assessed his appearance, superficial wounds and dishevelment.
***
Vauxhall Cross, MI6 HQ, London.
2 days to Complete Darkness
Architect Terry Farrell's influences for Vauxhall Cross speak volumes of 1930s architecture, copying elements of Battersea and Bankside power stations as well as Mayan and Aztec temples. During excavation of the site, the remains of a 17th century glass kiln, three barge houses and an inn thought to have been called ‘The Vine’ came to light.
Now the building is synonymous with modernity. Layers of decks rising from the river produce no fewer than 60 separate roof areas. 12,000 square meters of glass and aluminum covering the six perimeter and internal atria. The glass may look homogeneous but 25 different types were required to meet specific needs in all parts of the building. Even the doors are specially designed.
Vauxhall Cross is of course subject to rather different security requirements from those prevailing in the commercial sector.
The meeting room was at the front of the building, as the blinds closed the occupants of the room watched as a train silently glided past. Evidence that the bombproof triple glazed windows were doing their job.
Bill Tanner gave the summary…
“In 48hrs, Britain is going to be the target of a cyber attack” Tanner pressed the button and the first presentation slide appeared
“The terrorist group Complete Darkness will affect the attack. All computers will be rendered useless” A buzz ran through the audience. Tanner pressed for the next slide. A Photograph of Ronald Cambridge came onto the screen
“We believe that the Secretary of State for International Development is in contact with the legitimate arm of this terror group” Tanner let the words of horror float around the table. The photograph of Otto Killman came up on the screen.
“This is Otto Killman. He is an adviser to the Swiss global financial services company W.B.F&C. That’s the World Bank Finance & Credit. Their headquarters are in Zürich, Switzerland but they operate in every civilized country in the World”
“And some un-civilized ones too” M stood up. He gestured for Tanner to advance the presentation. A photograph of the burnt out hulk of the Shijomae Industries Tokyo building stared back at them.
“We believe that the micro-chip necessary to facilitate the threat posed by complete darkness was manufactured here. They call it Alphanox”
“Before it burned down I presume? The Prime Minister offered
“Yes. Our asset has neutralized the manufacturing capacity of the Tokyo facility”
“That’s good news”
“Yes, unfortunately they have another facility. A second chip will be available for the attack on ourselves” Mallory interjected
“How devastating will this attack be?” The Prime Minister asked
“Not very. It could be worse of course, but we believe the attack is only bait to get us to install a new generation of anti-cyber-attack software in all our banks and financial computer networks” Mallory was growing in confidence
“Something you would not advise?”
“That’s right” M sounded desperate “The software contains malware. It will allow this man” A photograph of Tsukasa Shinoda appeared.
“Tsukasa Shinoda. Leader of the Yamaguchi Yakuza and CEO of Shijomae Industries to control any financial transactions that he wishes to” Tanner said
“Explain”
“We believe this man is the leader of the Complete Darkness group. An electronic transfer of the entire holdings of an International bank for just one minute could make Shinoda very rich. The input of millions of dollars of counterfeit money would not be picked up on the software” M answered
“That’s it? It’s just about theft?”
“I’m afraid not” The screen went blank. The blinds opened. It had begun to rain.
M stood at the head of the table.
“The object of obtaining the money from our banks is to facilitate a small nuclear war” The voices around the table were horrified.
“Where?”
“We believe South Africa” The voices muttered again.
“Why?”
“We feel it’s far enough away from us; plus there are many investment opportunities”
“Away from us? What is our involvement in this madness?”
“I’ll explain that in a moment”
“When is this war to take place?” The Prime Minister asked. M continued…
“The plan would take about three months. First, after the Complete Darkness attack there would be an administrative period where Shijomae Industries would replace the software in the computer systems. The money would be taken. And then they would escalate tensions in the area. Eventually taking over military networks. Codes would be overridden and missiles would be fired”
“You said South Africa, who would they fire on?”
“No Prime Minister, they would be fired upon”
“By who?”
“China” Mallory said
“China?”
“Yes. Bilateral investment has taken major strides over the last decade and is closely linked to developments in trade between south and east. South African investments in China were valued at considerably more than those of China in South Africa until the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China’s purchase of a 20% stake in Standard Bank for US$5.64-billion; the largest single investment into South Africa and China’s largest financial investment was approved in March this year.
Other investments by Chinese companies in South Africa are in the mining sector, with a large focusing on chrome. There are five projects in total” Mallory concluded.
“A nuclear war of any size would stop the mining in Africa” M added
“The knock-on effect on the sale of world-wide electronic goods would be disastrous” The Foreign Secretary said
“It would be worse than that. The fall out would render all countries on the African continent north of South Africa un-inhabitable. Overall, South Africa ranks second in China’s mining investment in Africa, ahead of Zambia and Zimbabwe. All production would cease” said Mallory
“It would be a global economic melt-down”
“Yes, and that is the real objective of Shinoda’s Complete darkness group” Shinoda’s photograph re-appeared on the screen
“Shinoda wants a return to a more feudal existence. Japan’s economy has declined over the years, in direct contrast to the rise in China”
“How much of this do the Chinese and Japanese Ambassadors know?”
“Nothing”
“Good keep it that way”
In the awkward silence Bill Tanner took up the narrative
“In construction, the Chinese company Covec recently entered the South African market. Supporting the government backed Citic Construction, which is completing the Mittal Steel Newcastle Battery No. 2 and Gas Plant Project”
“China would be devastated” The Prime Minister imagined all production coming to an end.
“The whole world would be devastated. The world as we know it would change. In mining, China’s biggest gold producer, Zijin Mining Group is developing the R1-billion Blue Ridge mine and Sheba’s Mine in the Bushveld Igneous Complex north of South Africa. Sinosteel meanwhile is involved in a joint venture with LimDev to operate a chromium mine in Limpopo. Without produce coming from these sites all jewellery would cease. Catolitic converters would be no more. Automotive production would cease worldwide”
“Why would anyone want to see this happen?”
“Shinoda wants to return to a World of non-technology”
“Why would Cambridge want to get involved with these terrorists?”
“We believe that Ronald Cambridge believes that the reward for his assistance to the Complete Darkness group will be to choose British businesses to help repair and rebuild the war zone”
“What you have described won’t keep this conflict to a local issue”
“That is correct, but Cambridge won’t be aware of that”
“I trust you are monitoring Cambridge?”
“Yes Prime Minister”
“I think you should bring him in”
Mallory nodded toward Tanner.
For a little while the Prime Minister thought about the scenario
“How do we stop this from happening?”
“In the first instance we are trying to identify how to get close to the technological hub of the Complete Darkness group”
“The alphanox?”
“Yes, we believe it is the only physical requirement. Everything else can be hacked”
“How close are you?”
“We are pursuing a good line of enquiry” M said
“I’m sorry Sir John, but that doesn’t sound very close” The Home secretary suggested.
“We have an asset in Cape Town. We have one of only two men alive who can affect the ‘hacking’ of the government and military computer systems to both affect the start of the war or stop it” M stuttered
“What happens if you fail?”
M cleared his throat. He gestured to Tanner. Bill Tanner pressed the intercom
“Can you send him in please?” A few moment s later a short rotund man came in. He nodded to the assembled audience around the table.
“This is Professor Frank Casper” The man nodded to the assembled guests.
“Professor Casper, can you describe the effects of the nuclear conflict which you have modelled”
“I have estimated the tonnage available in the South African military arsenal”
“I’m interested in your qualifications Professor Casper? Where do you work?
Casper stood up and walked around the table, he stood next to M. M looked at him, and slowly shook his head. Casper smiled and took up the remote. The blinds closed again.
The short film began with the all too familiar mushroom cloud explosion.
“The global cooling caused by high carbon clouds wouldn't be as catastrophic as a superpower-versus-superpower nuclear winter, but the effects would still be regarded as an unprecedented climate change" Professor Casper looked at the Prime Minister.
Don’t worry Prime Minister you pay my wages. As for where I practice, I could tell you but I’d have to kill you” After a moment his sour face broke into a telling smile. He began his commentary as the film rolled behind him.
“Earth is currently in a long-term warming trend. You know it as Global Warming. After a regional nuclear war, the average global temperatures would drop by 2.25 degrees for two to three years afterward”
“A reverse to global warming?” The Prime Minister asked. Casper ignored the remark.
“At the extreme, the tropics, Europe, Asia, and Alaska would cool by 5.4 to 7.2 degrees according to our models. This means parts of the Arctic and Antarctic would actually get warmer. Due to shifted wind and ocean-circulation patterns”
“How long would this last?” Bill Tanner blurted out. The Prime Minister looked at him.
“After ten years, average global temperatures would still be 0.9 degree F (0.5 degree C) lower than before the nuclear war”
“Ten years” The Home Secretary echoed.
Casper nodded
“What would our world look like, during and after this period?” The PM asked
“Ten years without summer. For a time Earth would likely be a colder, hungrier planet”
“Hungrier?” The Home secretary asked
"Our results suggest that agriculture would be severely impacted, especially in areas that are susceptible to late-spring and early-fall frosts”
“Oh my god”
“Crop failures and famines would be widespread and last many years after that" Casper added
“All these changes would also alter circulation patterns in the tropical atmosphere, reducing precipitation by 10 percent globally for up to four years” Casper added.
“Even after seven years, global average precipitation would be 5 percent lower than it was before the conflict, according to the model”
“Where has this information come from?”
“In addition to our own work, the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Colorado, found large decreases in the protective ozone layer, leading to much more ultraviolet radiation reaching Earth's surface and harming the environment and people”
The Prime Minister looked at M “We cannot let this happen…” But M silenced him.
"The main message from our work” Casper said “Would be that even a regional nuclear conflict would have global consequences”
After a moment the Prime Minister raised his head, fear was ingrained in his eyes.
“They would know that?”
“Shinoda fully understands that his actions will take the World back by maybe 200 years”
Casper nodded “Anyone who understands what a nuclear explosion would produce in the modern world would understand the consequences”
“Shinoda wants the world to be returned to a feudal state”
“But their plan fails if the Complete Darkness attack on the UK fails? Am I right?”
“Our intel believes that is so” M hesitated “But there has been an earlier strike in Saudi Arabia”
The Prime Minister held his head in his hands
“So this process may already be underway in Israel?”
“It’s possible. But we believe the Israelis paid up”
“So the war’s going to be in Africa?”
“That was the deal Cambridge help broker”
“What the hell has he got to do with it?”
“Cambridge was approached by Shijomae Industries agents”
“Good god, what happens if we don’t play ball with them, would they target a missile at us?”
“Maybe another country would want to see a nuclear war in Europe”
“More likely if Shijomae Industries don’t get the contract, the black out over Britain will last much longer. We will be destroyed economically”
“M what help can I offer?” The PM asked
“Maybe a prayer?” M snapped
“I’ll say one tonight” The Prime Minister pushed back his chair and stood up.
The group split, and left the room.
As the individuals left M caught Malloy’s attention.
“Could I have a minute?”
“Of course” Mallory slowly returned to his seat.
“I’m intending to take my family to the Maldives” Sir John Green said without any pre-amble.
“Very wise Sir John, I’ll make the arrangements” Mallory replied without any trace of emotion.