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THE WHITE MERCEDES
James Bond, with his left hand he dug into his black coat, and fumbled for a cigarette in his gunmetal cigarette case, he lit a turkish cigarette that Darko Kerim Bey had sent to his hotel while on an assignment with him back in ’57.
It was truly a bad meeting for a bad day, bad weather had come to London and whilst a bad temper hit James Bond. M had sent him a telegram while he was in Jamaica, just after the Scaramanga business, accompanied by his assinstant, Mary Goodnight.
Bond hadn’t been in action for two months ever since Sir Miles Messervy had been kiddnapped. Bond had told M’s chief of staff, Bill Tanner, during a round of put-put-golf at the new course of eight-teen holes alongside the Thames.
One week earlier…
Bill Tanner shifted his putter when his was on the seventh hole, one ahead of Bond. He glanced back at the hole and back the white golf ball. He swung very slowly and hit the ball six feet from him and the ball slowly rolled into the hole. Tanner smiled and looked at the Thames river, Tanner was a family man and was sometimes envious of Bond’s freedom.
Bond moved onto the ninth hole alongside Tanner, “bill I haven’t been in the field for two months, is there any open cases?”
“I know 007, M hasn’t been exactly above the weather lately.”
“Has he given any thought to retirement?”
“Actually he has. But he’s having trouble finding a replacement.”
“But anyway I’ll see what I can do.”
Bond walked up to the newlyhired door man, and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs. He exhaled the smoke out his mouth, nostrils and into the young man’s face. The man looked about twenty-two years of age, wore a uniform somewhat similar to a guard’s uniform. He crinkled his nose and looked distusted, and held up a crystaline ashtray and said, “welcome to universal exports commander Bond.”
Bond took took the lift up to the eight floor canteen. I wonder if the new replacement for M will be a man or woman, thought Bond.
James Bond arrived at the eighth canteen, walked through the corridor and into Miss Moneypenny’s office.
Miss Jane Moneypenny looked up at Bond and said, “James.”
“Moneypenny,” he said sensually. “How the old man doing?”
“Not so good, his gotten an awful cold, along with the cough he had during and before his kiddnapping.”
“I see,” Bond threw his new black fedora onto the coat rack, “and how are you doing penny?”
“Good James, in fact I recently went to the theater to see ‘the sound of music’”.
Then the green light went on, telling him to go.
Bond nodded and smiled as he went into M’s office, “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Hello, 007. I’ve called you in to tell you what to expect from my replacement, 007,” M coughed for a moment and continued, “I am sorry to say, but it is a lady, and elder lady I’m afraid. She would prefer to be known as ma’am and she doesn’t exactly share the same since of humor as me, 007. I’m leaving to retire tomorrow night at 0200. That will be all James.”
Bond hated being called ‘James’ at the office, he prefered being called ‘Bond’ or ‘007’. He walked out of the room and took the lift back down to the first floor. Why so soon, why not retire when a couple of weeks, Bond thought.
He stepped out of the lift, walked through the lobby and out the rotating doors. Bond opened to the door to his battleship grey Aston Martin DB3, pressed the automatic starting button and drove to his Chelsea flat on King’s road.
James Bond, with three vodka martinis in him, raised raised his hand and ran his fingers through his hair to tidy it. Bond called for the bill, a female voice boomed on the intercoms in the airport of London Airways, “flight 878 Washinton D.C., now boarding…”
Bond fumbled for a cigarette and lit a chesterfield. He inhaled slowly, allowed the smoke to desend deeply into his lungs.
“Bond?” It was M’s Chief of Staff, Tanner’s voice, “all ready? Leiter has had a change of plans, he’s meeting us on the plane.”
“Alright keep your shirt on, I’m coming.”
FELIX LEITER, Bill Tanner, and James Bond sat in the comfortable seats in first class.
The flight attendant walked passed Bond, “excuse me,” Bond said politely, “can I get a vodka martini.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Bond continued reading The Scarlatti Inheritance. The book was written by Robert Ludlum. The book’s plot was: In Washington during World War II, word is received that an elite member of the Nazi High Command is willing to defect and divulge information that will shorten the war.
But his defection entails the release of the ultra-top-secret file on the Scarlatti Inheritance—- a file whose contents will destroy many of the Western world's greatest and most illustrious reputations if they are made known.
Bond finished the ninth chapter one minute to 11.00am, just before the martini arrived on a dish. Bond smiled at the desirable flight attendant and took the martini, “thank-you.”
Leiter thought of getting an Long Island iced-tea and said so the to the attendant.
***********
The 747 plane landed in Washington, D.C at two a.m. Three men took there things and slow jogged over to the busy parking-lot. A man in a black suit, standing by a white Mercedes. The man wore a double breasted suit, just as every other driver did, along with shaggy jet black hair and a droopy looking face. He reached into the driver’s side and held up a sign that read:
BILL TANNER
James Bond, Tanner, and Leiter began to walk over to the white Mercedes and handed his lugage to driver and climbed into the car, the interior was basically the same as any other car, except the smell of cigarette smoke, as if the driver had allowed smoking.
Smoking was clearly stated on the dashboard, that smoking was not allowed, and would be kicked out of the car.
The driver smile and asked: “were to?”
“Universal Exports please.”
The driver nodded his head and drove off into the city were all the biggest disitions were made and the world’s most powerful man lived: President John F. Kennedy.
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