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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Yes  ajb007/martini

I'll contribute my Chapter a bit later on  ajb007/smile

1.On Her Majesties Secret Service 2.The Living Daylights 3.license To Kill 4.The Spy Who Loved Me 5.Goldfinger

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Thunderpussy wrote:

Might help if someone wants to add, puts their name forward as it might save
Someone else working on a second part, only to be beaten to the finish line.  ajb007/lol
and have to start again.  ajb007/wink

Good idea, I hadn't thought of that. So who's going to do part two? I'll contribute again but later on in the story. With several people on it a fair sized work should develop.

To start off with then put your names forward for parts two & three? The person writing part three will have to wait for the second part to be published so he/she knows where to pick up from.

Last edited by stag (7th Dec 2014 12:39)

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

This seems a good idea though I think perhaps stag should change the thread title through the Edit function in the OP to make it a James Bond Fan Fiction Thread hub as it were. Just a suggestion... ajb007/smile  ajb007/martini

Writer/Director @ The Bondologist Blog (TBB)
On Twitter: @Dragonpol 
'Like' TBB on FB: TBB Update Page
"The man who was only a silhouette." - Ian Fleming, Moonraker (1955).

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

For a collaborative fan novel, there used to be two threads running concurrently...one for the actual story and one for the ideas/everything else...

YNWA: Justice For The 96

The Joy Of 6

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

I've looked at changing the thread title to 'THE MEN WITH THE GOLDEN KEYBOARDS - FAN FICTION' but as far as I can see it is not possible with my permissions.

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Sir Miles wrote:

For a collaborative fan novel, there used to be two threads running concurrently...one for the actual story and one for the ideas/everything else...

There is much the same thing now with this & the the following:

http://www.ajb007.co.uk/topic/44215/how … ond-novel/

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

In response to absolutely no popular demand whatsoever here's the second chapter of Hour of the Wolf.  I'm reposting the first chapter because I made minor edits.

Hour of the Wolf   

Bond checked his Rolex.  Four a.m.  The hour of the wolf.  The time when the body is at its lowest ebb.  The time when most people die, when nightmares are at their worst, and demons roam the land.  Bond’s current demon was named Stanislav.

    Bond took a silver flask from his regulation-issue pea coat and swallowed another swig of the Albanian brandy.  He felt the burn in his throat and in his belly.  He offered the flask to Milos, his driver.

    “Albanian!” Milos made a retching noise.  “Like dishwater.”

    “Really?  I hadn’t noticed any difference between this and your Serbian brandy.”

    “James, what you want with Stanislav?” Milos said, asking the question that had obviously been on his mind all night.  Bond shifted his position in his seat, trying to get comfortable, although after sitting for three hours he knew there was no comfortable position for a man of his height in this pre-war Renault Monosix.

    “My people have some questions for Stanislav,” he said.

    “Your people, James?  You used to be SBS.  Who are your people now?”

    “People who want to know why Stanislav sold out to the communists.”

    Milos waved his hand in a gesture of indifference.

    “The communists,” he said.  “We fought with the communists in the war.  Against the Nazis.”

    “It’s not 1944, Milos.  We’re not allies with the Russians anymore.  Or Marshall Tito.”

    Not for the first time that night Bond wondered whose side Milos would be on when push came to shove.  He had once saved Milos’s life.  Did that count for anything anymore?  He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the shifting loyalties of this new war—this Cold War, as people were calling it.

    “What you going to do with Stanislav?”

    Bond held up the syringe of sodium pentothal.

    “Inject him with this.  It’s a sedative.  Then load him in the back seat and drive to the Italian border.  We’ll be in Venice by breakfast.”

    “You’ll never get across.”

    “We’ve bribed the border guards.”

    “Why not just shoot him with that little gun of yours?”

    “My people want to know what he told the communists.”

    “That gun of yours is too small, anyway.  Too small for a man like Stanislav.”

    There was fear in Milos’s voice.

    “It’s big enough.”

    “What happened to the grips on that gun?”

    “It came that way.”

    “Did you pay less for it because it had no grips?”

    “I paid nothing for it.  I took it from a man who intended to shoot me with it.”

    Milos sat up, listened.

    “Did you hear that?” he said.  “It sounded like a low flying plane.”

    Bond shook his head and said he heard nothing.

    “Your nerves are getting the better of you, Milos.”

    “So tell me.  What happened to the man whose gun –“

    Milos stopped talking as the hulking shape of Stanislav Bulgarin emerged from the mist.  He had two other men with him.

   
Commander Bond, I Presume

    Bond stepped from the Renault and stretched.  Stanislav and the other two men were twenty feet from the front of the car.  The men were easily discernible in the full moonlight.  Stanislav wore an ill-fitting black suit -- too short in the arms and legs and too narrow in the chest -- that made him look like Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein.  Of course, it would be difficult for a man Stanislav’s size to find a suit that fit.  The other two men had the greasy, dishonest look that Bond associated with SMERSH agents.

    “James, my old friend,” Stanislav said, his voice booming.  “What brings you to the Balkans?”

    Bond removed his cigarette case from his coat pocket.  As he did, one of the men reached inside his coat.  Bond extracted a Balkan Sobranie cigarette with three gold bands, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it with his black-oxidized Ronson Whirlwind lighter.  He paused for a moment to remove a piece of tobacco from his lip and then inhaled deeply.

    “You not talking to me, James?  You come all this way to see Stanislav and have nothing to say?”

    “I’ve come all this way to take you into custody.”

    There was a moment of silence, then all the men laughed.  Including Milos.
   
    “Did I do something to offend the British Empire?” Stanislav said, still laughing.  “Perhaps I forget to drink tea with my finger out.”

    He made an effeminate gesture of drinking tea with an extended little finger, which invoked more laughter.

    In Russian, Bond asked the two men where they were from.  They both answered, “Moscow.”

    “I’m surprised, Stanislav,” Bond said.  “A man like you consorting with SMERSH.”

    Stanislav shrugged, a look of faint embarrassment flitting across his face.
 
    “You risked your life fighting one monster.  Now you’re throwing your lot in with another.  What’s the point in that?”

    “A man does what he must.  That’s the way of the world.”

    “Still, I have orders to take you into custody, Stanislav.  I’ll use force if I have to.”

    “James be sensible.  You are outnumbered.”

    “It’s only three to two.  And I’m not impressed by your two friends.”

    Out of his peripheral vision, Bond saw Milos edging toward the other three men.  At the same time the SMERSH agent who had his hand inside his coat brought out a 9 millimeter Steyr machine pistol with an extended grip.  The weapon was horribly inaccurate but only a complete fool would miss from this distance.

    “We have our orders, Commander Bond," he said in Russian.  "We are to escort you to a torture cell.   In the basement of the Kremlin.”

    Stanislav shook his head, almost in sadness.

    “It’s four against one, James.  As your American friends like to say, you brought a knife to a gun fight.  You--”

    There was a crackling in the underbrush all around as a half-dozen men in khaki uniforms with RAF insignia emerged from the trees, each carrying a silenced Sten gun.  The oldest, who had sergeants’ stripes on his sleeve, said, “Commander Bond, I presume.”

    The man with the Steyr backed up until he felt the barrel of a Sten gun jammed into the back of his head, at which point he threw away his weapon.

    Bond dropped his cigarette and rubbed it out.

    “It seems you brought a knife to a gun fight, Stanislav,” he said.

Last edited by Gala Brand (11th Dec 2014 17:59)

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Gala Brand wrote: "In response to absolutely no popular demand whatsoever"

I know how you feel! ajb007/rolleyes

That said I have enjoyed reading this story & am personally looking forward to more. Just for my information, in what year is the story set? I'm seeing Sten guns so know it's not contemporary (even the rock apes have given those up!).

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Some folks think I pulled my last short story because of that fact, in part it is true, yet the main reason is the more I did with it the more I wanted to develop the idea in general with a new character of my own making. I intend to create a novella - the first in a series - which will be published on amazon at some point. While I wouldn't expect it to fly I just like the idea of getting something I am interested in out there.

Keep up the good work with HOTW!

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

ajb007/cheers  Nice story Gala, I'm always impressed with the research on guns etc.

“I didn’t lose a friend, I just realised I never had one.”

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

stag wrote:

Gala Brand wrote: "In response to absolutely no popular demand whatsoever"

I know how you feel! ajb007/rolleyes

That said I have enjoyed reading this story & am personally looking forward to more. Just for my information, in what year is the story set? I'm seeing Sten guns so know it's not contemporary (even the rock apes have given those up!).


1949.

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Thunderpussy wrote:

ajb007/cheers  Nice story Gala, I'm always impressed with the research on guns etc.


Thanks.

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Gala Brand wrote:
stag wrote:

Gala Brand wrote: "In response to absolutely no popular demand whatsoever"

I know how you feel! ajb007/rolleyes

That said I have enjoyed reading this story & am personally looking forward to more. Just for my information, in what year is the story set? I'm seeing Sten guns so know it's not contemporary (even the rock apes have given those up!).


1949.

Ah, that makes sense. I will re-read with that period in mind.

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Glad to see this thread is continuing nicely - don't give up folks!  ajb007/smile  ajb007/martini

Writer/Director @ The Bondologist Blog (TBB)
On Twitter: @Dragonpol 
'Like' TBB on FB: TBB Update Page
"The man who was only a silhouette." - Ian Fleming, Moonraker (1955).

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Encouraged by Stag, I am planning and organizing my own Fan Fiction. Which should hopefully grace this thread, and give it some more life, pretty soon. Never done anything like this before so it might be
a) Written poorly
b) Really Fanboyish and far-fetched.
None the less. I'm going to endeavor and I would love some encouragement.  ajb007/martini
As a Little Teaser. The Piece will be called...
Son of My Right-Hand
And Will be in the Same Universe as Fleming's Bond. Set in the Year 2004 and 2014. It is partly inspired by similiar themes seen in the chapter Sparrow's Tears of YOLT.

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

I could give you a Hand with that if you want  ajb007/smile

1.On Her Majesties Secret Service 2.The Living Daylights 3.license To Kill 4.The Spy Who Loved Me 5.Goldfinger

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

AlphaOmegaSin wrote:

I could give you a Hand with that if you want  ajb007/smile

Thanks  ajb007/martini

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Keeping this thread still alive. I have written a  little bit of a Fan Fic. More to come I promise.
Its turn out differently to what I've planned initially.Its set in present day but its still the James Bond we all know and love. Consider it a brdige between the Craig films and Fleming's Bond. I have also tried not be bogged down by all the governemnt lingo, and weapons that I felt was Deaver's main problem. Never done this before as well guys, so please excuse me if its written terribly. Would love feedback. Or just to know if anyone's reading it.
Cheers for Stag for inspiring me  ajb007/martini

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

No Stone left Unturned
James Bond had finally reached the conclusion that he was bored. It was a sad destination to be at on his holiday. His bacon and egg pie from the corner shop was truly demolished in after a few stabs from his fork. It lacked Tomato sauce.
‘First world problems,’ he muttered to himself after placing the plastic dish in the nearest bin. The beach seemed to hold more fun for him when he was younger. He remembered his mother and father taking him for the day. His father would sit with a thriller novel in his hands, digging his feet into the hot sand. His Mother, after much lathering of sunscreen, would sunbathe. James would spend half the time in the water. His father would eventually join him. Teaching his son how to body board a wave or hold your breath for ages underwater. When he got tired; there was always the fun activity of sandcastles. It would be an effort by his parents to eventually drag him away from the beach when the day was over and the sun was hiding behind a cloud. Those young memories of his parents, Andrew and Monique Bond seemed so distant in his mind.  Now, James had gown sick of the beach after swimming for over two hours. It reminded him of lost friends and lovers. Tracy and Honey.
He’d lost his appetite for eating and the thriller he was reading was going nowhere. Desperate times meant desperate measures. James had spent the last half an hour watching the crowds of people. It did not take him long to ignore the young bimbos and Hasselhoff wannabes who pranced across the sand hunting for admirers. A ten minute conversation with a man about fishing became fruitless after James’s realisation that the man did not know a word of English. James spent a lot of his time dreaming about holidays. He brought out his Cliff Richard Album as he drove off, all packed. Yet when the time came, they consisted of doing nothing but wasting money. The holiday was not over yet however, he would endeavour to make it exciting and worthwhile. Stealing someone’s newspaper, James held his finger by the Odeon’s listings for films in the evening. He found a suitable trashy action movie on, the latest serving from Hollywood. It would have to do. He knew he would find some enjoyment and there was a pub not far from his hotel he could always hide away in. His feet burned with the hot sand. He was about to jump to his feet when he spotted a peculiar looking man head towards him. Instead of the togs and bare-chest that all the other middle-aged men wore; this man felt it necessary to wear a suit to the beach. His black Italian Golf shoes looked out of place against the jandles and five-toed shoes that donned the beach. He clearly was not there for swimming. It was not until the man became closer did James realise that he actually knew the man. A past life sometimes he wished never happened. He could hardly run away from it and it always promised adventure and a true holiday in every sense of the word. Instead of rushing up to him, he had made the decision that he would let the suited man approach him. James did not need this man, yet he needed him. Sure enough, the suited man smiled at him and dropped down against the sand next to him.
‘007, I presume.’
‘Please, just James’ Shocked by the sense of informality, the man shook his hand strongly.
‘We’ve met before,’ James announced, ‘You left for me dead in Baghdad.’ The man laughed, attempting to brush off the past event.
‘You can call me Mr. Red.’ The Black-tie brigade loved their fancy shoes and their code names. This was not a Cold War thriller he reminded himself.
‘Or I could call you Greg?’ The man’s eyes raised in surprise. He did not expect his real name to be known.
‘I do my homework. If anyone leaves me to rot beside a backpack full of explosives. I usually get their name.’ The man again tried to laugh off the comment. He was desperate not to discuss Iraq. James didn’t blame him. He pointed to the sand the man had decided to sit on.
‘Doesn’t that ruin your suit?’
‘I have plenty of others.’ They sat in silence. They must have been an odd couple for anyone walking past. A man in his togs, a towel wrapped around him talking casually to a suited man at a beach.
‘So, what do you want?’ It was a fair enough question. He hoped it would break the ice and give Greg permission to ramble on about any mission he wanted him for. M would send serious people like Greg to overseas agents. He wouldn’t complain if it was Mary Goodnight coming over across to New Zealand.  He nodded his head.
‘Not here. Somewhere quiet.’ It was James’s turn to laugh.
‘This ain’t Le Carre, Brother. We are in New Zealand. Whatever you want to tell me. Hurry up before I get bored.’ Greg stood up awkwardly, brushing off the sand from his pants.
‘Well, We will have it your way Mr Bond. At least allow us to walk and talk.’ James obliged and after finding his sunglasses and his footwear, led the man across the beach.
‘Your’re not use to such a setting? Do you prefer offices and files, Greg?’ The man winced at hearing his first name being mentioned.
‘I assure you. I can adapt.’ James walked towards the water, allowing the waves to lightly pass over his sandals.
‘I’m not making any promises. So give it to me in a few sentences.’ They walked in silence for a few extra steps.
‘There’s been another coup in Fiji.’
‘They have more coups then I have hot dinners. What’s your point?’
‘Britain and America actually like this guy. White, born in Fiji; Eton and Oxford though. He seems to have great plans for the country.’
‘Where do I come in?’
‘He’s a dead man. Chatter from the US says he’s going to be assassinated as soon as he is inaugurated.’
‘What do you want me to do? You’re being awfully vague, old chap.’ Greg pulled out his phone and scrolled through memos.
‘I have here you’re a trained actor.’
‘That’s right,’ James answered, ‘I act the goat constantly.’
‘Good under pressure?’
‘Well, I’m not blowing my horn here but…’
‘Then you’re  suitable for the job. M has chosen you. No arguments,’ Greg said, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.
‘Hired for what. This Fijian dude’s personal bodyguard? Come, on. I’m not a babysitter.’
‘You don’t quite understand, Mr Bond. I want you to be him. At least for a few weeks.’
‘Sorry?’ James shrugged the hand off the man’s gentle hand.
‘We will of course, lead you through the procedure. You will get to know this man, Melis Reben is his name. Say a few speeches under heavy make-up. Then when the chatter has died down you will swap places. So you in?’
‘No,’ James shook his head and walked away from the man,’ you crazy that sounds worse than sitting on this beach. Dangerous but boring.’ Greg did not move at all but stood rigid where he was on the beach.
‘You will be paid the average fee plus two million dollars by Melis himself.’ Having a sudden change of heart, James turned around again.
‘You win. Where do I start?’

Last edited by James Suzuki (20th Jan 2015 21:56)

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

You asked for honesty - well here goes.

I've read it twice & must say I enjoyed it. You've given the story a different contemporary twist. I wasn't expecting the setting or the opening & that is a good thing. I also had Craig in mind when reading. You've set the scene well for what is to come.

My only 'criticism' is that it was over too soon, I wanted to read more there & then!

I'm looking forward to the next chapter.


BTW I also like the title.

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ajb007/cheers  Very nice set up, for an adventure.

“I didn’t lose a friend, I just realised I never had one.”

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

I like the idea of Bond going into an Odeon Cinema  ajb007/lol  'Large Coke and Popcorn please'

1.On Her Majesties Secret Service 2.The Living Daylights 3.license To Kill 4.The Spy Who Loved Me 5.Goldfinger

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Thanks guys for the support  ajb007/martini
Working on the next bit. I find get stale when I'm writing rather quickly. So in may be in small excerpts. Sorry.

stag wrote:

My only 'criticism' is that it was over too soon, I wanted to read more there & then!

I'll try to post it in longer excerpts. But I do think it works well having a little a day.
I've purposefully tried to write in with Craig in mind. Bridging the gap between Fleming and the films.

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

No Stone Left Unturned-
Part 2

James Bond silently slurped the end of his tonic and gin and held it out in the air for a passing servant to collect it. He felt his fake moustache slip a little from top lip. All he wanted to do was rip it off and set it a light with his Ronson. He had a job do to. He could not let his own personal self-control issues get in front of a mission M had personally selected him for. For at that moment he knew he was not 007. He was Melis Reben, President of the Fijian Islands. That’s all that counted and mattered.
‘You ready, Melis?’ Bond turned to his press secretary. A lovely Indian lady called Prihiba. Like most of Reben’s inner staff; she was totally out of the dark. She’d never met the real Miles Reben. The man who had given up so much of his life for Fiji. It only struck Bond recently how much the two men had in common. Orphaned at a young age. Eton and Oxford. When this was all over and done he thought he might actually pop over to Nadi and Suva again. Invite him for a drink. He nodded to Prihiba who handed Bond his notes.
‘What is this?’ She smiled and gave him a  friendly punch on the shoulder.
‘Your inauguration speech, Mr Reben. To win over the hearts of all the Fijians on the Islands.’ Bond almost swore under his breath. Luckily she had taken it as a half-hearted joke. He pecked her check lightly.
‘Wish me luck.’ One of the guards opened the main door of the waiting room, while the other flicked off the welcoming fan by the corner. With the main door open, Bond saw a glimmer of light down the corridor towards the balcony. It was his crowd; he started to hear the roar of the audience. He saw a flag. He made his way to the door. Limping in character.
‘Mr Reben, Oh my Reben,’ Prihiba cried, catching up to him. He turned.
‘You forgot your glasses, how on earth are you going to read your speech?’ He laughed a gentle, Santa Claus laugh and placed his glasses onto his head. Everything became blury. He couldn’t see a single thing.
‘Bless you, my dear.’ After pushing the glasses ever so slightly down his face he made his way down the corridor. A trumpet started playing as the wave of sunlight his untanned face. It was like standing up at a football game. All the crowd was staring at Bond. They waved their flags. He was welcomed by flashing cameras from the left of him. He turned to smile at the jouranlists. All of them were Islanders all Indian except for one. She looked English. Her brunette hair waved gently in the wind. Their eyes met. She winked. He stared at her name tag. Emily
He suddenly imagined M’s disapproving face against the crowd.
‘Behave, Bond. Behave.’ He cleared his throat. He always thought he was good at speeches but he remembered how many across the globe would be watching this. M would be watching this in his room, Tanner beside him. Moneypenny would have found an excuse to nip into the room. Q would probably deny an interest but have it set up in his lab. Goodnight, however, would not be able to watch it. There were something’s she took very seriously. She would probably try and forget what was going on; busying herself with paperwork. He found it easier to concentrate on one person to start off his speech. Then after easing himself into and finding his flow he could look around at the crowd. All he needed was to throw himself into the speech with gusto. He looked down at the words then back at the crowd. He cleared his throat which caused the crowd to roar with clapping.
He cleared it again.
More clapping.
He was about to clear it one more time but then he refrained himself. Instead he placed his arm wide into the air.
‘Good Morning, People of Fiji!’ He felt beads of sweat appear at the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or the heat. He focused on Emily at first. Her smile. Her eyes.
‘It brings me the upmost joy and pleasure to address the whole nation today. As your new President and Leader.’ He paused for the clapping to once again die down. This was the easy part. He was more worried about the final goodbyes in which he had to speak in Hindi.
‘I understand the trials and tribulations you are going through at this present time. Your trials are my trials. Your tribulations are my tribulations. Change is a good thing. We need direct action. We need promises to be made and then kept.’ He moved his eyes off the young journalist. His voice begun to waver.
‘I, assure you all. I offer this change. I apoligise to you all the tough and swift  way I came into power. I realised…’ He paused mid-speech. His eyes fluttered amongst the people. He thought he had spotted something amongst the crowd. His eyes laid on Greg. His eyes conveyed the message easily.
‘Hurry up and continue.’
‘I realised the need to act relentlessly and quickly. We do not have the time to act slowly in Fiji. Times are changing. We need to change with it…’ He thought he spotted it again. Someone move very quickly in the crowd. He turned to the two bodyguards. They were completely unaware of anything. He smiled quickly to the crowd and started speaking faster.
‘I offer the ability to increase our sugar production by 10%. I’m talking about more jobs and more opportunites.’ Bond then saw what he was after. A man. Near the front. His head turned away from what he was saying while everyone else was listening intently. He had something in his right hand that he couldn’t quite make out. He raised it. Aiming it straight at Bond. It was a Heckler and Koch. It made sense. The guards would be watching intently for a sniper on a  nearby building. No one would have the nerves to sneak up with a hand-pistol. He had less than a second to decide his action. So he dropped to the ground. Hearing the shot ring out across the crowd made everyone panic. People started to run everywhere. They ran towards Bond. Their outstretched arms  attempting to grasp him. Yet Bond knew it was too late for them to do anything. He knew the man was an excellent shot. The bullet had hit his chest. He felt himself lurch forward, tipping over his glass of water and shattering his glasses on to the concrete. His left hand tried desperately to cling on to the railing but he missed. He felt his feet slip from where they stood rigid and his body fall off the balcony towards the concrete below.
The crowd screamed in panic as they saw their President fall off the balcony to mass below. It was like he was suddenly thrown on to their level. Bond pictured Moneypenny fainting and M swearing violently in his office. He stood up. An Indian Journalist had sheltered his fall. He had ended up landing on top of the man. Crushing him with his weight.
With one light tug, Bond ripped the moustache off his face, taking hairs with it. Taking off the military jacket he had to wear; and the beret. Bond was assured that no-one would recognise him. He was not the President anymore. He was a regular citizen. A citizen with a grudge…

Last edited by James Suzuki (20th Jan 2015 21:57)

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming

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Re: NEED TO KNOW - A collection of short stories.

Good stuff. Having read your synopsis elsewhere I know where the story is going!