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Based on Ian Fleming’s
James Bond
007
Silhouettes and Shadows
By
Paul Taylor
Back Jacket Synopsis
When an otherwise impeccable financial source funds a biological weapons transaction…
…James Bond is sent to investigate the mysterious new owner of the Swiss bank responsible…
…and uncovers a powerful secret organisation that has its roots enmeshed
in the Third Reich and its sights set on challenging the superpowers of today.
The race is on to stop the weapon being deployed, but who can Bond trust?
A disgraced DOJ agent wanted by the FBI
An Israeli scientist at odds with the CIA
Even his old friend Felix Leiter cannot be relied upon in a world controlled by silhouettes and shadows
Appendix 1
Bilderberg Invitation list 2007
George Alogoskoufis, Minister of Economy and Finance (Greece);
Ed Balls, Economic Secretary to the Treasury (UK);
Francisco Pinto Balsemo, Chairman and CEO, IMPRESA, S.G.P.S.
Jose M. Duraco Barroso, President, European Commission (Portugal/International);
Michel Barnier, former Minister of Affairs, (France)
Francis Pinto Balsemao, former Prime Minister of Portual (Portugal)
Franco Bernaba, Vice Chariman, Rothschild Europe (Italy);
Nicolas Beytout, Editor-in-Chief, Le Figaro (France);
Carl Bildt, Former Prime Minister (Sweden);
Anders Borg, the Minister of Economic Affairs (Sweden);
Hubert Burda, Publisher and CEO, Hubert Burda Media Holding (Belgium);
Philippe Camus, CEO, EADS (France);
Henri de Castries, Chairman of the Management Board and CEO, AXA (France);
Juan Luis Cebrian, Grupo PRISA media group (Spain);
Kenneth Clark, Member of Parliament (UK);
Timothy C. Collins, Senior Managing Director and CEO, Ripplewood Holdings, LLC (USA);
Bertrand Collomb, Chairman, Lafarge (France);
George A. David, Chairman, Coca-Cola H.B.C. S.A. (USA);
Anders Eldrup, President, DONG A/S (Denmark);
John Elkann, Vice Chairman, Fiat S.p.A (Italy);
Martin S. Feldstein, President and CEO, National Bureau of Economic Research (USA);
James Femuston, CFR (USA)
Timothy F. Geithner, President and CEO, Federal Reserve Bank of New York (USA);
Lloyd Franklin, CFR (USA)
Paul A. Gigot, Editor of the Editorial Page, The Wall Street Journal (USA);
Dermot Gleeson, Chairman, AIB Group (Ireland);
Donald E. Graham, (CFR) Chairman and CEO, The Washington Post Company (USA);
Victor Halberstadt, Professor of Economics, Leiden University;
Jean-Pierre Hansen, CEO, Suez-Tractebel S.A. (Belgium);
Richard N. Haass, President, Council on Foreign Relations (USA);
Frank Heemskerk, Minister of Foreign Economic Affairs (Netherlands)
Richard C. Holbrooke, CFR , Trilateral, Vice Chairman, Perseus, LLC (USA);
Jaap G. Hoop de Scheffer, Secretary General, NATO (the Netherlands/ International);
Allan B. Hubbard, Assistant to the President for Economic Policy, Director Economic Council (USA);
Josef Joffe, Publisher-Editor, Die Zeit (Germany);
James A. Johnson, Tri-lateral; Vice Chairman, Perseus, LLC (USA);
Vernon E. Jordan, Jr., Senior Managing Director, Lazard Frères & Co. LLC (USA);
Anatole Kaletsky, Editor at Large, The Times (UK);
Jyrki Katainen, Minister of Economic Affairs, (Finland)
John Kerr of Kinlochard, Deputy Chairman, Royal Dutch Shell plc (the Netherlands);
Henry A. Kissinger, CFR, Trilateral, Chairman, Kissinger Associates (USA);
Bernard Kouchner, Minister of Foreign Affairs (France);
Henry R. Kravis, CFR, Founding Partner, Kohlberg Kravis Roberts & Co. (USA);
Marie-Josae Kravis, Senior Fellow, Hudson Institute, Inc. (USA);
Neelie Kroes, Commissioner, European Commission (the Netherlands/International);
Ed Kronenburg, Director of the Private Office, NATO Headquarters (International);
William J. Luti, Special Assistant to the President for Defence, National Security Council (USA);
Jessica T. Mathews, CFR, Trilateral. President, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace (USA);
Frank McKenna, Ambassador to the US, member Carlyle Group (Canada);
Thierry de Montbrial, President, French Institute for International Relations (France);
Mario Monti, President, Universita Commerciale Luigi Bocconi (Italy);
Craig J. Mundie, Chief Technical Officer Advanced Strategies, Microsoft Corporation (USA);
Egil Myklebust, Chairman of the Board of Directors SAS, Norsk Hydro ASA (Norway);
Matthias Nass, Deputy Editor, Die Zeit (Germany);
Adnrzej Olechowski, Leader Civic Platform (Poland);
Jorma Ollila, Chairman, Royal Dutch Shell plc/Nokia (Finland);
Richard Olbruk, CFR
George Osborne, Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer (UK);
Tommaso Padoa-Schioppa, Minister of Finance (Italy);
Richard N. Perle, CFR, Resident Fellow, American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy ( USA);
Heather Reisman, Chair and CEO, Indigo Books & Music Inc. (Canada);
David Rockefeller (USA);
Matìas Rodriguez Inciarte, Executive Vice Chairman, Grupo Santander Bank, (Spain);
Dennis B. Ross, CFR Director, Washington Institute for Near East Policy (USA);
Dr. Schily, Former Minister of Interior Affairs; Committee on Foreign Affairs (Germany);
Jurgen E. Schrempp, Former Chairman of the Board of Management, DaimlerChrysler AG (Germany);
Tager Seidenfaden, Executive Editor-in-Chief, Politiken (Denmark);
Sir David Somerset, Resident Fellow, London School of Economics; (UK)
George Soros, CFR, Trilateral (Opens Society Institue) Soros Foundation, ( USA)
Peter D. Sutherland, Chairman, BP plc and Chairman, Goldman Sachs International (Ireland);
Giulio Tremonti, Vice President of the Chamber of Deputies (Italy);
Jean-Claude Trichet, Governor, European Central Bank (France/International);
John Vinocur, Senior Correspondent, International Herald Tribune (USA);
Jacob Wallenberg, Chairman, Investor AB (Sweden);
Martin H. Wolf, Associate Editor and Economics Commentator, The Financial Times (UK);
Paul Wolfowitz, CFR, Trilateral.
James D. Wolfensohn, Special Envoy for the Gaza Disengagement (USA);
Robert B. Zoellick, Deputy Secretary of State (USA); CFR
Klaus Zumwinkel, Chairman of the Board of Management, Deutsche Post AG (USA);
Adrian D. Wooldridge, Foreign Correspondent, The Economist.
Prologue
April 2007
The sun beat down.
James Bond reclined on the rear seat of the Sunseeker Super-hawk 43 checking the charts and planning his day.
For the past month he had been island hopping, catching his meals from the sea, and eating them at a different hotel restaurant each night.
Today the cruiser was anchored thirty meters off Helengeli one of the most natural islands in the Maldives.
Situated in the Indian Ocean, south-southwest of India there are approximately 1,196 small coral islands grouped together in a double chain of 27 atolls, spread over 90,000 square kilometers, making it one of the most disparate countries in the world.
Composed of live coral reefs and sand bars, the atolls are situated atop a submarine ridge nine hundred and sixty kilometers long that extends upwards abruptly from the depths of the Indian Ocean.
But even this vast area was closing in on Bond, the previous night he had been approached by the hotel manager, who during a polite conversation over a Mount Gay rum and soda asked Bond who he was working for. His response had been that he was conducting research for the Tourist board in Male, a story Bond had found easy to maintain and hard to disprove.
The manager had then gone to great lengths to explain that his hotel had been designed and developed with the preservation of the island's fragile environment and the comfort of the tourist in mind.
Bond listened with feigned interest and made a mental note to change his cover story, to that of a serial ‘hotel’ arsonist who had been encouraged by his therapist to confront the source of his problem to in order to see if the cure was complete.
He smiled at the prospect of the revelation, not only to avoid a repeat of this ad hoc type of conversation but to stop the prospect of a communication to other hotel managers who may actively try to locate him, for a favourable report.
He glanced up from his charts, and viewed the island, nodding in approval he liked what he saw, which reluctantly confirmed that the manager had been accurate in his appraisal; the result was an unspoiled island paradise, yet with all the amenities that made you feel completely at home. Bond surveyed the lush tropical vegetation and marvelled at the contrast in colour of the completely untouched beach.
With his charts stowed away he took off his white linen shirt and fired up the engine, relishing the feel of the sea breeze on his skin, the cruiser pulled away from the island. Bond steered a course for a reef roughly twenty miles to the south, today he would dive to view the coral to take in its beauty and capture the memory, it would be his last opportunity, for tomorrow he was going to head back to the main island and book a flight to Heathrow.
Briefly he wondered what would be waiting for him back on his desk, and then without thinking he checked the state of repair of the wound on his right forearm, the scab had gone, washed away by the hours of swimming and diving, the scar would soon be non existent, but viewing it took him back to his last assignment.
It was, on the surface simple, a welcome relief from his first two “00” operations.
He had flown in to Bulgaria, found his mark, and plotted the hit, no girls to distract him, and no conspiracies to take over the world.
The mission was going as planned, but he had not taken into consideration the target would be wearing body armour; this fact had delayed the man’s death and had given him valuable seconds in which to raise the alarm.
Bond had to use his back up plan to make good his escape, but his repelling wire had snapped (a miscalculation on the breaking strength) and he had crashed through a window, the result had been six stitches in his head and a few more on his arm.
He shook the memory from his head, gunned the engine and powered away, the breeze turning into a powerful blast invigorating his skin.
The atolls of the Maldives are complex structures which are very dangerous for inexperienced navigators, but a sure way to know you are heading in the right direction in these times is to head for the boats and cruisers, anchored over the most interesting reefs, the tourist trade is all important here and a major attraction for divers from all corners or the World.
Bond secured the Super-hawk a good hundred meters from the nearest tourist cruiser and checked his equipment. Knowing his breathing rate on the surface is 15 liters per minute he calculated his consumption at 3 x 15 = 45 liters of gas per minute at twenty meters. His eleven liter cylinder was filled to 200 bar and carried a reserve of 17%. At 45 Liters/min the reef dive would be at a comfortable depth and he could stay down for a maximum of forty minutes.
These depths and times were typical of his week long diving experiences, leisurely exploring the coral reef using the 200 bar aluminum cylinders which he had rented from the commercial sport diving operation on the island. Although strictly speaking not a part of the breathing apparatus, Bond checked his Buoyancy control device, running his fingers along the joint connecting it to the diver's air supply.
Bond found the vest a most suitable addition to his kit, providing him with an easy inflation of the device. This can be done manually or via the mouthpiece, in order to save tank air while on the surface. The bladders inside the BCD inflate with air from the ‘direct feed’ to increase the volume of the SCUBA equipment and cause the diver to float. Another button deflates the BCD and decreases the volume of the equipment and causes the diver to sink. Finally he adjusted his watch to a 40 minute period and slipped quietly into the warm waters.
His world took on a different texture, the warmth caressed him and the current soothed his muscles, he powered down enjoying the feel of the crystal clear waters between his fingers.
More than 1,500 species of fish lived on this particular reef, four hundred species of corals, both hard and soft were to be found in this area alone, he had been told, so it wasn’t too surprising that other divers were actively enjoying the reef, still he made a conscious effort to keep away from the tourists.
The majority of the corals spawn gametes, which breed in mass spawning events that are controlled by the rising sea temperatures of spring and summer, the lunar cycle, and the diurnal cycle.
Bond propelled himself down to the reef, at about fifteen meters he leveled out and continued along the wall of colour, observing the many interesting species of Lionfish and Sweet-lips as they were feeding gently on the plants; a blue-faced angelfish darted ahead of him and he followed its path; in the distance he observed a one meter white tip reef shark lazily cruising his territory.
Bond always enjoyed his role of observer in this under water world, he knew there were dangerous fish out there, like the Scorpion and Stone fish, Moray Eels and Sharks, but he knew they would not attack as long as you keep your distance and don't touch or chase them! Simple!
A small shoal of angel fish loomed in front of him moving left to right as he watched one fish bent double and was propelled backward in an instant the cloud of blood obscured his view, the fish and spear drifted down not two feet in front of him.
Bond’s immediate thought was of an idiotic diver shooting at the fish for fun, but then a second spear whooshed passed his head, and he knew he was under attack, he dived down a couple of feet and used the reef for cover, hand over hand he pulled himself along the coral, doubling back upon himself he manoeuvred in and around the rocks until he saw the trail of bubbles, three of them, then in slow motion they appeared from beyond the crest of a coral outcrop, the lead diver was still armed with a spear gun the other two were reloading as they checked the nooks and crannies, and although their lazy leg lifts looked deceptively slow they were propelling them forward quickly through the large fins they were wearing.
Although he was regulating his breathing the tell tail trail of bubbles from Bond’s own tank finally gave his position away, the three men focused in on his position and they approached with unnerving speed.
They were within firing range but they kept coming, at twelve feet distance the first diver stopped and began to allow his feet to drop slowly and deliberately the lead diver brought up the harpoon gun, aimed and fired, Bond opened the valve and air whooshed out of his buoyancy vest he dropped and the spear ricocheted off his tank, turning the valve the air rushed in and Bond rose like a cork, kicking at the same time he converged the lead diver’s position he grabbed at the mans’ weapon arm, simultaneously his other hand snaked inside the clumsily formed guard and plucked at the mask, prizing it from his face, immediately he let it fasten back over the man’s eyes forcing him instinctively to use both hands to the task of replacing the mask.
Bond took the initiative and grabbed the air tank pulling the man forward, the second diver was very close now and had his gun aimed, as he fired the bubbles erupted from the path of the spear. Bond used the momentum to pull the first man into the path of the spear, it entered the mans neck and the blood billowed from the wound, Bond kept hold of the struggling man and ran his hand down his body taking a spear from the divers quarrel; flicking his legs he propelled himself under the now dead diver as he continued to run his fingers down the mans calf, success, he found, unclipped and released the razor sharp diving knife, the second diver was on him now reaching for his air pipe, Bond saw a similar knife glinting in his other hand, he brought his own knife up and slashed at the second divers arm, the rubber suit took most of the impetus out of the thrust but Bond felt the weapon cut flesh, the diver withdrew his arm from the fight, as another cloud of blood fanned out.
The third diver had carefully moved around behind Bond and was just reaching for his demand regulator when the shark brushed past him, the shock stopped him dead and the shark continued on its trajectory, having tasted the blood in the water from over one hundred meters away nothing was going to make it deviate from its target.
With morbid fascination the third diver watched the shark attack the dead man, other fish which pick up the pieces from a predator attack were now darting around the fight, Bond resisted the urge to throw up his arms in defence as the fish wriggled past him, in a moment of clarity he turned and thrust the spear into the third divers face, but the attack failed it skidded off his mask, shocked into action the attacker moved forward and grasped Bond’s hand they twirled in a morbid dance of death the air bubbles festooning the sea around them, Bond assessed the other man’s strength and slowly he was able to break the man’s grip and he thrust again, this time it penetrated the man’s throat, both his hands went instinctively to the wound, then his body went limp and he sank. Bond looked around, and saw the stain of blood hanging in the water following the blood trail he spotted the second diver as he was swimming away, Bond set off in pursuit, he needed some answers.
They were both rising fast when a second shark took the diver’s injured arm its sleek body began twisting and tearing the diver was pulled through the water his limbs imitating those of a rag doll, the next strike came without warning as a third shark tore into the divers leg. The water turned red so that the frenzied movement seemed to be behind a cascade of water, Bond slowly drifted away, keeping his arms close to his body, watching in morbid fascination as the smaller fish began nibbling at pieces of the third diver as they fell away from the torn body, the scene was becoming more chaotic as other sharks joined the attack ripping at the three dead divers.
Bond carefully released more air helping him ascend from the depths, before surfacing he took one more look down at the feeding frenzy and the grotesque silhouettes and shadows chilled him to the bone.
Chapter one
March 2003
They struck without warning.
Ten lightly armed commandos, considered to be the elite of their brigade entered the building, in the early morning light.
The commando in charge of communications disabled the alarm, and took station by the door, as he was doing this a second soldier sprinted up the stairs and secreted himself behind the artificial plants on the landing; he had a full and commanding view of the reception area below.
The rest of the unit split into four teams and began their objective to immobilize the occupants of the outlying buildings. Each soldier had a floor plan in a clear pouch on the sleeve of his uniform. The commandos drew their Glock 22’s and released the safety catches. They ran their fingers over the spare ammo in their belts; each magazine carried 13 .40 S&W cartridges they carried ten each.
The sidearm had proved most popular with the unit, and had been the handgun of choice among law enforcement agencies and military organizations around the world for the past two years. Any member of the Unit would tell you that the popularity of Glock pistols can be attributed to a number of factors. They are said to be very reliable, being able to function under extreme conditions and to fire a wide range of ammunition types.
The simplicity of the Glock design contributes to this reliability, as it contains a relatively small number of components (nearly half as many as the typical handgun) making maintenance and repair easy in the harsh desert environment. The first pair reached the blue dormitory door on the second floor of the first building; they took a deep breath and entered the room.
At that hour most of the workers were still sleeping, but even the gentle thud of the silenced pistols woke a few of the men, but all they saw were the silhouettes and shadows of their assassins on the walls of the dormitory. Death came quickly.
Returning to the reception area of the main building, they congregated by the desk under the large “Welcome to SEPP” sign. All teams gave thumbs up signals. With a simple code word the communications commando confirmed their status to the mobile HQ waiting beyond the nearest desert mountain range.
Twenty minutes later the main body of the unit poured through the doors and began a systematic sweep of the administration rooms and offices, taking the computers, emptying the filing cabinets and bagging the bodies; they worked quickly with a frightening efficiency that complemented their murderous colleagues.
The officer in command set up his command post in the MD’s office, with mock urgency he barked out a number of orders then demanded coffee; he sat in the sumptuous grey leather chair put his feet on the desk and waited for his breakfast.
He was in his early fifties, and just under six feet tall, his tight curly hair had more than a smattering of grey these days, but the brain was as sharp as ever. He took this time alone to reflect on why he was here, for just a fleeting moment the guilt overtook his emotions again and he wanted to shout out ‘Stop’, but then the reality of the circumstances took control. Soon the Allies would invade and crush Saddam and his government; any one holding power would face trail as a war criminal.
He knew it would be every man for himself. From a position of power away from Iraq he could assist the needy and the displaced, he knew there would be many needing his help, especially the men in his command who survived the oncoming slaughter.
He laughed at the justification, and almost believed it himself, but he needed something to believe in, because soon there would be no pride swelling in his chest every time he wore the uniform of the Special Republican Guard, soon there would be no uniform at all to wear.
Members of the Iraqi Special Republican Guard enjoyed a privileged position within the Iraqi army and were known as the Golden Division. This elite Iraqi Praetorian Guard was founded in 1992 and was controlled by the Special Security Organization and charged with protecting Saddam Hussein, but today their murderous mission took priority. The SRG was filled with recruits drawn from Tikrit, Baiji, al-Sharqat and small towns south and west of Mosul and around Baghdad -- areas and clans noted for their loyalty Saddam's person and regime.
All the presidential sites in Baghdad had a Brigade assigned for its protection, and their reputation for violence was responsible for many an aborted rebellion, coup, or other threat to his power.
The Special Republican Guard received better pay and benefits than members of the Republican Guard and regular Iraqi Army. In 2002 there were reportedly 12,000 members of the Special Republican Guard, drawn primarily from clans loyal to Saddam Hussein and his regime.
As many as five brigades containing 14 battalions of 1,300-1,500 men each, and also included air defense, armored, and artillery were reported to be in existence at that time.
Five hours had past since the first shot had been fired and the SRG had finished cleansing the upper floors of the factory and disposing of the bodies from the dormitories a little over an hour ago.
Now the officer in command; Colonel Karim Jaafar waited with a barely concealed frustration, he knew something that none of his men were aware of;
that the next phase of the operation was already running late.
The soldier at the window lowered his binoculars and reported “Sir. They are coming”
A plume of dust rose from the desert road, and very quickly the shimmer became the outline of a vehicle; as the car drove past the first outpost the sentries reported in to the communications team that the Professor was on his way.
Colonel Jaafar remembered the first time he met the Professor; they had spoken about the defeat which was to come and the humiliation of Iraq after the fall of Saddam.
The conversation had meandered for a couple of drinks more and then the Professor had made a proposition which Jaafar had dismissed immediately, however as the night wore on; Jaafar was able to see not only personal profit but a way to help his soon to be defeated troops. As he now walked slowly down to the reception area and out into the heat of the day, he smiled and nodded to his men, they returned the powerful signs of his leadership with glee.
Once outside Jaafar brought out a pair of Ray-ban aviators from his tunic pocket and took up the pose of the offended hero, he was the most prominent professional officer not from Saddam's immediate family circle, he had gained his position purely on merit, and his commando loved him. He knew that if they suspected that he was about to betray his country they would kill him, so he hid his eyes behind the sunglasses and reminded himself that soon this phase would be over; then his men would look to him once again for help, this thought kept him going.
The car was an old Mercedes 600 Pullman, and its chrome grill and silver paintwork had been polished with an obsession, and it glinted now in the sun, as the car slowed to a halt in front Jaafar.
The dust settled.
The first man out of the car was a small Chinese man in his early twenties, he was wearing a dark blue oriental designed suit, and although it was obvious from his features that he was oriental his hair was a dyed white blond, and his eyes were shielded behind mirrored sunglasses; he held the door open, and as the next man emerged he took off his glasses and looked on in hero worship. The elderly man took a deep breath as he acclimatized to the heat from the air-conditioned interior. His hair was iron grey but his moustache and eyebrows were as black as oil. His dark brown eyes narrowed in the fierce sunlight, and without looking left or right he walked confidently toward Colonel Jaafar.
“You’re late” snapped Jaafar.
The old man looked into the reflective surface of his glasses, his eyes burned into the Colonel’s soul.
“Colonel Jaafar, how very nice to see you again, is everything ready for me?”
“Yes Professor and it has been now for one hour” He puffed out his chest and preened himself.
The Professor turned back toward the Mercedes where two other Iraqis in European suits had joined the young Chinese.
“Come, there is work to be done” and with that strode past the colonel into SEPP reception.
The other men went to the trunk of the Pullman, took out four large bags then followed the Professor into the building.
Without hesitation they went down the wide staircase, Jaafar followed with three of his toughest commandos. The Professor stood in front of the stainless steel lift door and gently caressed the buttons, and then with a sharp intake of breath he turned and held out his hand. The young Chinese man handed him one of the heavy black bags, “Thank you Tien”
The Chinese bowed from the waist, but his eyes never left the Professor, he returned to his full height and his straight limp blond hair swung back into place.
The Professor unzipped the bag to reveal a full bio suit, the others did the same.
With well practiced patience all four donned their suits. The Professor turned back toward the lift and reached out his gloved hand and pressed the button and waited for the lift. The doors sighed open and the four men entered, Colonel Jaafar followed them in but the Professor held up his hand
“Not until it is safe”
The Colonel stepped back and the doors closed, there was silence except for the whirring of the lift motor as it descended to the lower level.
At first there had been confusion about the workings of the winch, but soon as the men mastered the controls, and they were able to begin moving the tables and benches, once they were moved to the side of the room, the men unlocked the padlocks in the recessed areas of the floor and swung open the flaps. The jibs were moved to the centre of the apertures and the winches lowered into the void, the motors hummed and the stainless steel racks began to rise out of the floor.
The two Iraqis moved forward and waved their probes over the stock and so began the all important checking of the security of the canisters and boxes.
Once the integrity of the seals had been verified they removed their Bio suits and wiped the sweat from their faces. The Professor instructed that the lift should now be sent up.
Jaafar entered the storage facility and for once in his life was lost for words.
The storage facility had racking down the centre of the room, and against the far wall, each of the shelf spaces contained a canister or box, which carried a ‘toxic’ symbol.
He instructed the soldier next to him to fetch the detail of soldiers to begin loading the first of the four 18 ton Lorries which waited in convey for the precious cargo.
The Professor and the two other Iraqis sat at a desk and worked on their lap tops.
Tien stood to one side glaring at anyone who looked in their direction.
It was a show of strength that the hardened Republican Guard found amusing
‘What is he going to do against me’ thought one soldier as they got on with their task.
Suddenly a printer whirred into life, the Professor stood up and walked purposefully to the printer, he retrieved two A4 sheets.
He looked for a rank insignia on the soldier’s uniforms, and called to one of the Sergeants in the storage facility.
The soldier was a big man, with large hands, his head snapped ‘round at the sound of the order, he stopped what he was doing and marched over to the Professor. The old man pressed the sheets into his hand.
“From this reference load in this sequence, make sure it all goes on” The sincerity was evident in his voice
The Sergeant nodded in affirmation and walked around the stock area and verified the numbers on the sheet with the part numbers on the various containers.
He returned to the desk and asked the Professor “Can you explain this number sir?”
“Of course, it’s the door combination” The Professor pointed to a door against the far side of the facility. “The stock below that number is all contained within the room beyond” The soldier thanked him and went back to the dispatch area; the other civilian’s began packing up their equipment.
Tien was busy packing the Bio suits back in their carry bags, but he stopped when the big sergeant returned, he approached the Professor again. Tien took up defensive stance, at the old man’s side.
“You are leaving?” The sergeant asked
“I’m afraid time is against us, we need to leave for Baghdad. Can I trust you to load the entire contents of my list?” The Professor was manipulating the conversation
“Yes Sir. Thank you sir, don’t worry we will, get it all” The soldier was pleased to obey the request
Tien, relaxed and turned back to his task
The Professor looked up at the proud soldier
“What is your name Sergeant?”
“Sergeant Khaldoun Hamed, at your service Professor”
“Take care of this cargo, one day it may change the face of the world”
He lent forward and spoke so only the two of them could hear “The device in location 164 is worth a king’s ransom, Saddam will be eternally grateful for whoever brings it out of the desert, whatever happens do not leave here without it”
Hamed returned to the task with gusto, shouting orders and hurrying his unit to the task in hand. The Professor, Tien and the two other Iraqis took one last look and then disappeared behind the lift door.
Colonel Jaafar remained alone in his office he had no wish to see the Professor and his party leave, but he did indulge himself one final look at the Mercedes as it drove away.
As soon as the car was out of sight he left the office and barked out an order to depart, the unit members sprang into action and filed out into their transporters.
Within minutes they were mobile.
The sun was setting as the final truck pulled away from the loading bay door.
Sergeant Hamed along with his two ‘loading’ colleagues went to the lift and marched back into reception, he handed the packing lists and the final two A4 sheets printed by the Professor to the communications commando.
“[censored]” he picked up his radio and began his report.
His face said it all; the news was not being taken well
“It was with regret that all the items detailed on the inventory list was not been able to fit on the vehicles”
One of the soldiers with Hamed whispered that it was impossible to get all the stock on the trucks provided.
“Quiet” whispered Hamed, although he agreed that it had been an impossible task.
After a few moments of chaotic shouting, a new voice spoke on the radio, it was calm and authorative. The Professor asked to speak with Sargent Hamaed, the communications commando gave the radio to Hamed, almost immediately he began nodding and muttered affirmatives, the instructions he had been given, were clear and precise.
Sergeant Hamed clicked the radio off and gathered the remaining members of the unit together and relayed the Professor’s orders.
The last of the unit hurried to their Jeep, smiling and waving goodbye, Sergeant Hamed waited impassively with the two soldiers he had nominated for what he considered an honour, and they were Privates Nabeel Ibrahim and Didar Mushir
The Jeep disappeared into the distance. The three men breathed a sigh of relief and removed their caps they went back to the storage facility and opened their rations and ate a nutritious meal. The electricity had been cut off so as the last of the light faded as the sun went down and the dessert chill seeped into the facility they settled down in the cleanest of the dormitories.
The following morning Hamed led the soldiers down to the storage facility.
Only when they had arrived at the door with the combination lock did Hamed realize he had forgotten the sheet with the combination.
“It’s OK I remember it” said Nabeel
“No, don’t touch it till I get back” and with that he ran back to the lift.
He checked his watch, knowing a truck would arrive within the hour to pick up the precious cargo.
No more than five minuets had passed when the lift doors opened again and he stepped back into the facility, he was humming a popular tune, but the sound stopped on his lips, the atmosphere had changed, a warning siren boomed out and a red light rotated casting a thousand shadows over the floor and walls.
Didar Mushir stood with his back pressed against the door his hands stretched out in front of him as if to ward off a wild animal and his face was a mask of terror.
“Didar what has happened?”
Mushir moved to one side, revealing the contorted features of Private Ibrahim.
Ever so slowly he slid down the glass panel, dead.
The room had a grey green mist curling around where the soldier had been.
Hamed and Mushir watched on in horror.
Abruptly the siren stopped. The sound of a motor started and slowly the air began to clear in the room. They stood transfixed at the window.
Hamed turned on Mushir and demanded to know what had happened
The man was terrified “He said he remembered the code, he tapped it in and the door opened, he went in then the door closed behind him and the gas filled the room” replied Mushir
The light in the room turned green. Hamed grabbed the door handle.
“What are you doing?” He said as he moved to stop him
Hamed looked deep into his eyes “We must” He tapped in the code and opened the door and went straight over to Ibrahim. Confirming he was dead Hamed took out his list and began checking the containers, in the rack opposite he stopped at shelf 164 which contained an aluminum cylindrical shaped device, he turned to Mushir
“Quickly Didar, we must get this device, the Professor was most insistent”
Mushir picked it up it was heavy, about twenty pounds. He held it away from his body and carried it out into the facility.
Hamed collected the other tubes and cases that were on the list.
The two men waited all day, no truck arrived. The telephone line had been cut, so there was no means of communication.
On the third morning, they decided to walk back to civilization, Hamed put the ‘164’ devise in a haversack, they shared out the last of their rations and as the fierce heat of the sun dropped behind the mountains, they began their journey.
It was a night they would never forget, the sound of heavy gunfire and explosions filled their ears, and the flashes left a memory of war on the minds.
They found the Jeep two hours before dawn, in the cold they waited behind the rocks at the side of the road until there was enough light to see what had happened.
Hamed looked down and re-lived the scene, their colleagues had been ambushed, and they had obviously left the Jeep for the cover of the rocks; he saw the blood spots and trails, long dried, and the spent cartridges from their returned fire, and then he saw the bodies which still lay where they had been shot.
“This is why, they did not come back, and the invasion has begun”
Mushir got the jeep going and they drove away, not toward Baghdad but toward the border a lone vehicle on a lonely road.
By midday they were just one of many leaving Iraq.
Given the absence of illicit stockpiles of Weapons of Mass Destruction and the heavy volume of traffic leaving Iraq shortly before invasion, some analysts and politicians believe Saddam Hussein may have transferred illicit material out of the country during the period leading up to the invasion. Other individuals suspect WMD may still be hidden in the country, although there is currently no evidence of this.
Colonel Jaafar had carried out his legitimate orders to remove the toxic weapons from the SEPP facility and remove all evidence and witnesses of its military existence; he had also allowed the Professor to have access to the contents of the sealed room, he knew the reward for allowing this to happen was five million US dollars, he thought the price was the life of three of his men.
The lift doors sighed open.
The storage facility was deserted, the combination door was ajar, and one man in commando fatigues lay dead on the floor. There was blood around his nose and mouth.
Location 164 which should have held the device was empty. The ‘Air’ monitor on their suits showed clear, so they removed their gas masks.
The mobile phone rang, and was answered.
“No, the device is not here. There is only one body. The other two are not here”
The connection went dead.
The other man asked “What did he say?”
Tien replied “He say find them”
Chapter two
May 2007
MI6 headquarters is known locally as Babylon-on-Thames due to its resemblance to an ancient Babylonian ziggurat. It is located at 85 Albert Embankment in the south western part of central London, at Vauxhall Cross on the South Bank of the Thames.
James Bond walked quickly through the open office area, his feet felt constricted within the leather shoes; and the noise of the busy department offended his new found sense of calm, listening to the operators talking to field agents around the world, he picked up more than ten different languages being spoken during the twenty seconds it took him to cross the office to the lift, he waited and gazed back on the scene ‘Babylon indeed’ he thought.
After the freedom of the lightweight loose fitting clothes of the past month his suit seemed to weigh a ton and the stiff collar of his pale blue sea-island cotton shirt chaffed his neck, his silk tie strangled him, he pushed two fingers between shirt and his well muscled neck and surreptitiously loosened the offending items.
Bond entered M’s outer office, and promptly collided with her new P.A
Miss Moneypenny. She muffled a surprised scream.
He recalled that on their first meeting she had subjected him to some seriously flirtatious remarks, that was just before he had left for his vacation,
he was now eager to resume the banter.
She was perhaps just thirty, about 5’ 7” with dark brown hair and the most perfectly rounded cheek bones. Bond loved her Rodean accent was sure there was a trace of the Orient in her family background.
“Oh 007 I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in” Her tone was superior with the ever present hint of ‘naughtiness’
Bond held her shoulders as they both regained their balance and composure, her blouse was pure silk.
He looked her up and down and noticed she was carrying a black plastic bin liner.
“No harm done” then “Nice bag”
She lifted it up and it rustled with shredded paper
“Its rubbish” She replied surprised at his comment
“Oh you are so right, but I didn’t want to offend your taste in hand bags”
“James” Her face softened but did not break into a smile, he could tell she was looking for a retort but their meeting was cut short by the sound of the intercom.
She lent over the desk and pressed the button “Moneypenny”
M’s voice replied “When 007 arrives can you send him straight through”
“Yes Ma’am” She let go of the button and straightened up, it was obvious Bond had been looking at her body as she had lent over, she made no movement to show this embarrassed her, she held his stare, he continued to look at her approvingly.
She continued the eye contact “Time you made an entrance”
He smiled “Just what I was thinking, what time do you get off”
“Depends on what time you take me to dinner”
“Shall we say eight?”
“You are very sure of yourself” she lent back against her desk.
“Yes I am, eight?”
Moneypenny pointed toward the door
Bond opened the door to the inner office, M was at her desk but she was not alone, he was pleased to see chief of staff Bill Tanner attending her.
M looked up “Come in 007”
Tanner had not taken well to being in the field, his memories of the recent South American operation had caused him great stress, but today, back in his familiar surroundings he looked fine. M’s hair looked decidedly greyer and her completion even paler, Bond thought she needed a break.
“Take a seat 007” M continued to sign the papers as Tanner put them in front of her. He turned and smiled at Bond but remained silent only the gentle hum from the air conditioning unit made a discernable noise.
Having finished, she handed the papers back to Tanner “Thank-you Bill”
“Thank-you Ma’am” he turned and left the office through the adjoining door.
M pressed a button on her console and the glass partition between the offices turned opaque; she withdrew a folder from her desk drawer, and placed it in between them.
“How was your vacation; fishing wasn’t it?” She asked sliding the folder across the mahogany desk toward him.
“I had the odd bite”
She tapped the desk with her finger “Well, matters have moved on; whilst you were swanking around the Indian Ocean, our intelligence has brought to light some strange business decisions that have been made by what we consider to be a ‘friendly’ institution. They are out of character to corporate strategies and personal ambitions of the donators of the money they represent”.
And so it began, no more pleasantries, not even the pretence of friendship, he reached forward and took the folder
“What’s changed?” asked Bond
“The availability of funds were approved by a certain private Swiss bank; HQ in Zurich, one which has recently gone through some personnel changes”
She tapped a button on her key pad and the large painting on the side wall faded and morphed into a monitor they angled their chairs towards the wall and M activated the screen; it dissolved into the front page of a newspaper, with a large photograph of middle aged man and a young woman, the caption revealed them as Hugh Sinclair and his daughter Daisy. The editorial described Sinclair as an American financier, the legend read - TIME Magazine cited two projects led by Sinclair and valued at $100 million which went toward internet infrastructure for regional Russian universities; and a further $5 million for the Millennium Promise to eradicate extreme poverty in Africa - while noting that Sinclair has raised $7 million to fund projects in the U.S., and given away a total of more than $6 million of his own personal fortune.
M exclaimed “Sinclair died two weeks after his bank was first linked to a hostile take over; he leaves a wife and one daughter”
“Mmm that’s an extreme F.I.F.O personnel change” Bond continued to take in the details from the screen.
M looked puzzled “F.I.F.O?”
“Yes, Fit In or…
“Yes. I understand, thank you 007”
She pressed another key and a similar screen revealed the name of Demitri Zarolin, Bond read the information - active as a philanthropist since the 70s, Zarolin began providing funds to help black students attend the University of Cape Town in apartheid South Africa, and began funding dissident movements behind the iron curtain.
A second report confirmed: - Zarolin’s funding in Eastern Europe continued through the Overt Society Institute (OSI). As of 2007 it is estimated he had given away a total of $4 million to the cause. He promoted non-violent efforts to increase democracy in many countries.
Other notable projects have included aid to scientists and universities throughout Central and Eastern Europe, help to civilians during the siege of Sarajevo, worldwide efforts to repeal drug prohibition laws, and Transparency International.
Zarolin also pledged an endowment of €42 million to the Central European University (CEU).
Bond looked up, M clicked on the next screen, which showed the ‘Daily Telegraph’ headline reporting Zarolin’s death.
M cleared her throat and said “Both men were partners in the aforementioned Swiss Bank; until that is, it was sold”.
After a pause for thought M asked “So 007, what do you know of the Illuminati and the Bilderberg?”
They faced each other across the desk “I’m not too familiar with Bilderberg policy of late, but I understood their power base is somewhat blunted, and I thought the Illuminati disbanded about a hundred years ago”
M looked up from a second file “That’s as maybe, go on”
“I believe historically the name refers to the Bavarian Illuminati, a secret society founded in the late eighteenth century by Adam Weishaupt a professor of law at the University of Ingolstadt. The movement was made up of freethinkers” he paused but it M encouraged him to continue
Bond understood that she wanted him to talk about the modern day groups that have adopted the old German name. “Buoyed by funds from the Third Reich they have used extortion and blackmail to achieve power in the shadow of many royal houses around the World, ultimately they intend to establish a world government through assassination, bribery, blackmail, the control of banks and other financial powers, the infiltration of governments, mind control, and by causing wars and revolution to move their own people into higher positions in the political hierarchy.
The last recorded meeting was about ten years ago, and comprised of an elite group of individuals who felt they were uniquely empowered to rule by the enlightenment brought about by their desire for power, their education and their superior intelligence”
“Quite,” M replied “It has long been muted, that many significant occurrences are affected by either or both of these powerful secret groups. Historical and current events are seen as logical steps in an on-going plot to rule the world through a combination of political finance, social engineering, mind control, and fear-based propaganda. Enabling a single power to rule the world as an autonomous world government, they would dictate to all sovereign states and other existing balances in world power struggles.”
Bond noticed the empty whisky tumbler at the corner of the desk; the ice was not fully melted. M was either developing a drink problem or this operation was a serious threat to the security of the UK, maybe even the world.
“Surely, that degree of autonomy is regarded as myth today, a conspiracy theory?” He tried to make it sound light
“Outwardly yes, this has always been known as the New World Order conspiracy, and refers to the theory that a group; usually referred to as the Illuminati or the Bilderberg are, where established already acting as the real power behind thrones, and are controlling world affairs through puppet governments and corporations” she pointed to the monitor again.
“Since the events at the bank, funds were made available for a Turkish company called “Bio Atul” to bid for a contract which should have gone to the Americans.
The deal allowed them to win a Biological research contract with the Iranian Government. Winning the contract means we now have no control over the Iranian war machine; and that has upped the stakes in the Middle East power struggle”
“You believe one of these organizations is responsible for the killings and is controlling the financial initiative?”
“It’s possible. That is why I want you to investigate the Bank’s new owner.
Ruthless people who have become powerful are said to have achieved a higher mystical understanding of the universe, many secret societies are concerned with this kind of enlightenment; it is not illogical to link the two”
Before he could ask for details on the owner M passed a second folder over to Bond, he opened it and read the air ticket itinerary expecting Zurich.
“Istanbul?”
“Yes, I want you to rendezvous with Sir David Somerset, his details are in the folder; he has further information on the take over of the bank and the deaths of Zarolin and Sinclair. His will be able to get you in to the Bilderberg conference”
Bond knew all the relevant details would be incorporated in the file, and as M was now busying herself on the laptop he knew the meeting was at a close.
He took the file and went to the door…
“007”
Bond turned “Yes Ma’am”
“Trust no one”
He left the office feeling decidedly uneasy.