Licences to Kill:
The Unknown 00s
1. Michael Halt
- Name: Halt, Michael
- Height: 175 cm,
- weight: 67 kg;
- Muscular build;
- Eyes: Dark Brown;
- Hair: black;
- Possible scarring, locations unknown;
- all-round athlete; expert pistol shot, boxer, knife-thrower;
- Master of disguises and vocal manipulation.
- Languages: English, Spanish, French, Italian, German and Yiddish.
Moneypenny looked up from her typewriter expecting, and half hoping, that the figure who walked into the room was James Bond.
“Hello Moneypenny, is M available? I need to speak to him pretty urgently”
Michael Halt, an agent in the 00 section for 4 years, stood in the doorway. Moneypenny gave him a look that took in his disheveled clothes, dusty and unshaven face and unkempt hair. He would have passed for one of the vagrants that were commonplace on the streets of London.
Moneypenny sniffed unapprovingly.
“He is in a conference at the Cabinet Office with the Prime Minister, though he is expected back within the hour. May I suggest,
Michael, that if you wish to speak to him, that you use the time to improve your appearance? You look like you spent the night on
the streets, and the smell does little to dispel this observation”
A smile crept to the corner of Michaels mouth, he knew what others in the department thought of him, he was the antithesis of
James Bond, the 00 sections golden boy. He cared little for expensive living, luxury cars or savile row tailors - he was as at home
in the rags the he now wore as he was in a suit and knitted tie. What mattered to him was that he went unnoticed and was quickly
His face was plain, he bore no tattoos or distinguishing features, save the large scar that ran the length of his back - but he was
careful that this was always covered. He could pass for multiple nationalities, and had the skills to radically change his appearance,
learnt from an early career in the theatre. The perfect spy.
“Moneypenny, I am not dressed like this for my own enjoyment, I believe that M will understand my unsavoury state when I explain
to him exactly how I’ve spent my morning and that the raising of current hygiene levels would adversely effect the plans that I
have following our proposed meeting. Would you be so kind as to send a message to my office when M arrives, and please let him
know the urgency of my request”
Without waiting for a reply, he nodded civilly and left the office.
Ceri Jones, Halt’s Welsh secretary, flipped through the expenses report that lay on the desk in front of her. It always amazed her
how little Halt spent when he was acting on behalf of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, opting for unremarkable and cheap hostels and
motels, rather than the 5 star accommodation that some agent’s felt obliged to charge to the treasury.
Friends with, and neighbour to, fellow secretary Mary Goodnight, they had often compared notes and a giggle over their agent’s
obvious differences. But, as Jones often pointed out, they both managed to get the job done effectively, though in Halt’s case with
out long stretches in the infirmary.
The door opened and Halt walked in. Unlike Moneypenny, Jones had no need to comment on his appearance. She understood his
methods and knew how effective they could be. Though the obvious bags under his eyes gave her cause for concern, fatigue
easily could get an agent killed.
“I feel fine, Ceri, don’t worry about me. I’m not as tired as I look, so take that concerned look off your face. It’s putty and a touch of
make up, nothing more. Though, if it’ll make you feel any better, a nice strong coffee may be in order”
She smiled and turned back the the paperwork in front of her. Any other secretary would have jumped up and headed for a kettle
at these words, but she’d been working with Michael Halt for too long to take this as an order.
Sure enough, 5 minutes later a hot, steaming cup of tea was placed in front of her by a smiling Halt, whilst he poured the boiling
water into his own cup of black coffee, no sugar.
“You have these to sign, Michael, though I don’t know why they bother sending them down to us, the only expenses you create
are your travel and M takes care of that, and even then you insist on travelling third class.”
“I am a man of simple pleasures, you know that. And don’t forget, people who throw money about often stand out, how Bond has
survived this long, I’ll never know”
Draining his coffee, he looked up as a messenger knocked on the door with a sealed message, which he took with a nod of thanks.
M will see you now. Moneypenny
Signing the expenses, Halt smiled at Jones and went to the door.
“I have to see the Admiral. I will drop in after the meeting, but I expect to be leaving the country on an early flight tomorrow
morning, if all goes well. Please have a passport ready. I will be flying under the Hammersmith alias, I believe all his paperwork is
up to date in the right hand cabinet - along with the disguise. I will send details whilst I am in the field, but I will be requiring the
Blacksmith alias to be sent out to me as soon as I find appropriate accommodation”
He left the room and headed to M’s office. He already knew what he was going to say and it wouldn’t be easy.