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Based on Ian Fleming’s

James Bond 007

To Kill and Die for

By

Paul Taylor



Back Jacket Synopsis


A bitter Kremlin power struggle endangers Europe's oil and gas supplies.

After an attempt on his life, former KGB spy master
Vladimir Chenko turns to MI6 for protection.

M knows she must send her best agent to eliminate the killer hell bent on fulfilling his contract.
Failure now could lengthen the shadow of war across the globe.

Old friends; new enemies and a sadistic killer make this mission the toughest yet for 007

In Ornella, James Bond discovers a resolve to trust and lie for.
In Stasi, he finds the trail of death and destruction as a just cause to kill or die for.


Prologue

Flanked by two porters James Bond walked confidently through the hotel reception area. One porter carried Bond’s leather weekend bag, the other smaller man struggled to keep up whilst maintaining a tight grip on Bond’s heavy aluminium briefcase.
It wasn’t quite eight am. Yet the sunlight was pouring through the large picture windows giving the room lustre and creating prisms of light reflecting off the highly polished surfaces.
Bond recognised the woman as she came toward him. She was a young Indian woman that he remembered seeing in the Al Mahara restaurant the previous evening, she had looked glamorous then, but now with the sun light framing her in the doorway she looked stunning. Gone was the traditional dress and in its stead was a soft white pure silk blouse and skirt, the gold pieces she wore at her neck and wrist were both tasteful and expensive.
Bond wondered casually if she was up early or up late. She smiled as she came closer, and her pace slowed.
“Good morning” said Bond in passing.
She stopped and examined him quickly “Subbah-el-kheir”
Bond stopped and the two porters came to a clumsy halt at his side. She smelt of orange blossom.
Her lips were full and expertly coloured to complement her skin tone. “I hope you enjoyed your stay?” her voice was as pretty as she was.
“Yes I did” Replied Bond. He continued to look directly at her. She had lowered her face and was looking back at him from under her long black lashes.
Traditionally this look would be interpreted as submissive, but her body language was confident and challenging, Bond was intrigued. His face dissolved into a smile as he prepared to leave.
But she halted his progress with a question “I am looking for a little something; to remind me of this wonderful city” She made her invitation sound very exciting, and then she added mischievously “Do you have any suggestions?”

Bond recognised the pitch and answered “The souvenir shop?”
“Of course, how silly of me. I do not suppose you have time right now to…?” she let the question fade
“Maybe later, now if you will excuse me I’m late for a meeting”
“Of course” She turned and walked away, it was one of the most seductive movements Bond had ever seen.
Bond went through the automatic doors and out into the blinding sunlight; but the expected blast of heat that should have accompanied it was tempered by the sea breeze. At one thousand feet the faint aroma of salt still assaulted the senses and Bond looked out over the Helicopter pad toward the city of Dubai.

The Burj Al Arab hotel stands on an artificial island 919 ft out from the Jumeirah beach, it is connected to the mainland by a private curving bridge, and has available a fleet of Rolls Royce to carry its guests to the board rooms, but those wanting to make a real business statement usually travel the short distance to the city by helicopter. As if on cue the silver-grey and blue Bell 430 landed gracefully on the Heli pad. The two livered porters rushed forward and after stowing his bag the first man held the door open as Bond boarded the machine, the second man handed him the aluminum case, Bond stowed it under his seat. As the door closed Bond strapped himself in and instantaneously the Bell took off.
Enhanced by the sculpted glass cockpit the Bell swooped down toward the southern coast of the Persian Gulf. The pilot levelled the helicopter and headed toward the city. Bond looked back toward the iconic structure of the hotel, designed to symbolize Dubai's urban transformation and to mimic the sail of a boat.

The Bell 430 maintained its speed for a further five minutes; the city sprawled beneath it in all its shimmering glory. The sterile skyscrapers stood like sentinels keeping a watchful eye over the cranes and construction sites adding to the skyline.

Dubai has rapidly attracted major international attention through its challenging real estate projects. This increased attention, has coincided with its emergence as a world business hub, and with that noble edifice has come the soft underbelly of crime. Bond felt the machine slow, he looked down to the surface of the yet to be opened six lane highway that intersected the desert and saw a single car in the distance. Within the minute the helicopter had touched down on the shimmering black tarmac close to a charcoal grey Aston Martin DBS V12, his Aston Martin.

Bond composed himself. The crime that had manifest itself here in this ultra modern oasis in the desert was one born of excess combined with an immense wealth. If the actual drugs did not move through this city the deals that brokered the international transactions certainly did.
The rotors slowed and the engine whine died. Suddenly the door opened and Bond found himself looking down the barrel of a Heckler and Koch G36 machine pistol.
“Out” the man with the gun backed off and Bond stepped out.
“Hands up” the man gestured with the gun. Bond felt the desert heat close on his face.
“Move” the man shouted and Bond walked away from the Bell.

“I don’t care much for Mr. Kassian’s business manner” Bond said as a second armed man threw his bag from the helicopter then pulled out the aluminium case. Away from the helicopter he opened the case and looked over at the first man. “Its here” he said in Arabic. The first man looked back at Bond
“Move” he gestured toward the desert.
Bond walked off the road and onto the hot desert sands. “Where’s my part of the bargain?” The two men spoke rapidly to each other in Arabic, then the second man took out a set of keys, with an over elaborate build up he threw the keys onto the sand between Bond and the Aston Martin.
“Your goods have already been delivered to the address you gave in London”
Bond took out his mobile “I’ll just confirm that”
“As you wish, but wait until we have gone, then take a drive back to your hotel, Mr. Kassian is a man of his word”

Backing away toward the helicopter they held their guns steady and one by one climbed into the Bell. Once the door was closed the rotor began to wind up. Bond knew they would have to open the door to attack him; quickly he turned and walked toward the car, picking up the emotional control device as he went. With the bulk of the vehicle protecting him Bond keyed in the code on his mobile. As the Bell 430 rose into the air, Bond pressed the centre button. The signal contacted with the jamming devise inside the aluminium case and instantly the helicopter lost power. The pilot brought it down to earth heavily. Bond walked toward the machine. The door opened and the first man got out, Bond took out his Walther P99 and shot the man in the chest, at the same instant the second man jumped from the other side and began to run into the desert, he was carrying the aluminium case, as the jamming devise got further from the Bell the engines fired up and the pilot took the opportunity to start his take off procedure again. Bond aimed the Walther at the fleeing man. One shot and he was down, but he had gone far enough for the Bell to be able to function again.

In a flurry of sand the helicopter took off, the pilot brought the machine around and angled the rotors at Bond; as he brought the machine closer the sand was whipped up into a frenzy of dust as Bond felt his skin being literally sand blasted. Bond fired two shots at the cockpit then made his move toward the man with his case. As the helicopter turned to pursue him Bond reached the man and prised the case form his dead hand. The Bell was almost upon him and the light had disappeared behind the haze of the sand storm. Bond un-clipped the jamming device from the bottom of the case and threw it toward the centre of the storm. It hit the Bell at the junction between the rotors and the housing, its powerful magnet holding it fast to the helicopter. The engine stalled again as the electronics in the Bell failed. The helicopter spiralled and plummeted back to earth, it hit hard and the cabin ripped apart in a ball of flame. Bond fell back as the force hit him. The flames now engulfed the machine and Bond kept a wary eye on the fire as he walked slowly toward the DBS.

Once inside, Bond initiated the Aston’s electronic start system, and in a second the 5935 cc V12 engine barked into life.
Bond pressed the Bluetooth button on his Ericsson C902, and the radio sprang to life with a dial tone.
Bill Tanner’s voice interrupted “Hello 007, status report please”
Bond eased the car forward and headed back toward the city. Just past the burning helicopter he stopped to pick up his bag.
“Tell M that Mr. Kassian’s Dubai pipeline is broken”
“Well done James, we took care of the delivery boys at this end too. Looks like you’ll be heading for Boston next”

“Doesn’t M think that the CIA should handle Kassian at home?”
M cut into the conversation “Negative 007, until we fully understand where Kassian’s loyalties lay, MI6 will continue to maintain responsibility”
“Of course”
“Do I make myself clear 007?”
“Often” Bond waited for a rebuke but none came “Bill, have the tickets sent to my suite at the Burj will you”
“Not going straight to the airport, 007?”
“No, I need to pick a little something up from the souvenir shop”

[volante]

Chapter One

Brisance

VALENCIA, Spain

She cut through the water at almost 12 knots.

Her sleek design honed by 101 years of history.

The America's Cup is one of the worlds oldest sporting competitions, which the U.S dominated until the last 20 years, since then Australia, New Zealand and Switzerland have all won.
Now the yacht clubs of each nation carries the corporate sponsorship and uses the latest technological know how that the mother country can provide to propel their yacht even faster through the swirling blue waters of the World’s oceans.

The ‘Prestige and Glory’ was an 80 foot J /133 series, her brilliant white hull cut through the waves like an arrow, she was narrow in the beam with a huge sail area which allowed her to reach and maintain speeds in excess of 15 knots.
Her mast was 110 feet high and the full length vibrated each time she crashed into a new wave.
The spray from the impact was sent stinging into the faces of the crew, as the boat hesitated momentarily and then with a whoosh of exhilaration she was heading for the next one.

At a weight of 55,000 lbs she was built for racing, and would normally need to carry a crew of 17, all with specific tasks for maximizing the coordination, communication and speed to afford the best results.
But today was just a pleasure trip.

The Cup course in Valencia is short and very spectator friendly from shore.
Today though only a few people were watching the spectacle of a racing yacht skimming over the waves.

The Skipper was Norwegian, an experienced racer in his early thirties and he stood like a rock at the helm, his shoulder muscles straining to hold the boat straight against the unforgiving power of the sea.
Next to him, and taking the place of the Tactician was their guest of honour The Russian oligarch Valdimir Chenko.
An imposing man who looked much younger than his late fifties age, he liked to think he was fit, and in the constraints of a business suit still looked lean and able. But the demands that the boat placed on his body told him he was going soft. He held onto the cockpit rail for dear life as yet another wave was destroyed by the progress of the yacht.

Chenko was widely tipped to become Russia’s next president, and his current company, Sibneft were sponsoring the Russian entry in the forthcoming America’s cup series. The night before he and his staff had met and had dinner with the crew; he had been enthralled by the premise of yacht racing as ‘one winner, no second, victor and vanquished’ this excited him and the words had taken him back to his University days.

He stood at the head of the table and addressed the crew. “The great Prussian militarist Clausewitz, said ‘To truly win, one must not only be victorious but one must also inflict maximum damage on ones opponent to demoralize him”
The crew had roared with laughter and applauded this statement, and the night had continued into a great a success.

Chenko had impressed them all by his feat of memorizing not only their names but their positions within the crew, the Navigator, Strategist, Mainsheet Grinder, Mainsheet Trimmer, Downwind Trimmer, Port and Starboard Grinders, the main Mast-man, Mid-bowman, Bowman, Pitman, Upwind Trimmer and Traveller.

Now as another hail of droplets crashed into his exposed face he could remember nothing, the men on deck were moving with a precision he found mesmerizing. The black woollen hat clamped firmly over his bald head was already soaked, and the dampness mingled with his sweat.

The Skipper was explaining why the two men were adjusting the Boom and Runner
“It is to control the backstay” he said effortlessly his voice carried above the crash of the boat as it scythed through the fluid strength of the ocean.
But all Chenko could accept was the bone jarring crash as ‘Prestige and Glory’ tore through the waves, shaking the water from her deck, streaming like an arrow. He nodded in mock understanding of the captain’s commentary.

When the boat exploded the spectators saw the flash and felt the blast ripple through their bodies, in an instant the boat was transformed into a kaleidoscope of pieces spiralling and tumbling though the air, the velocity of the shockwave lessened, and as the mist and smoke dissipated the once beautiful boat had become just a jumble of pieces floating on the water.
The spectators looked on in abject horror.
The large sail had been torn to shreds and floated burning across the sky.
As the ringing in their ears subsided, the spectators started to scream, pointing toward the wreck, turning to each other for reassurance. A feeling of helplessness descended upon them.

City of Arts and Sciences Valencia
The ambulances sped toward the dock, past the futuristic architecture of the City of Arts and Science. The buildings cover five distinct areas in the river bed of the now diverted River Turia. Designed by local architect Santiago Calatrava, work began on the structures back in July 1996, and they are such impressive examples that even now they quite literally take the breath away when first seen.
As the sirens wailed in the distance, the man parked his blue Mercedes SL 500 in the Science car-park. The stale air assaulted him as he climbed out of the air-conditioned car. Leisurely he walked down the steps to the lower level, he was a confident man in his early thirties, his hair was dark and worn long at the back in the classic Mediterranean style, his skin was tanned and seemed darker against the white linen shirt he wore casually over his tailored navy blue shorts, but his features were not that of a local, maybe it was the piercing blue eyes that gave him away as north European.
As he emerged into the sunlight he produced a pair of black Silhouette titanium sunglasses, he used both hands to put them on, now with his eyes covered he could have easily past as a local, he scanned the area taking in the magnificent El Palau de les Arts Reina Sofía Opera house and performing arts centre.
He strode purposefully along the walkway between it and the L'Hemisfèric Cinema. The sun had extenuated the brightness of the buildings and the surrounding attractive streams and pools of turquoise water glinted in the morning light, adding to the relaxing ambiance of the "futuristic city". The Spanish music radiating from the open air bar outside the El Museu de les Ciències completed the illusion.
He spotted his contact sitting on a bench halfway along the lake. Without changing pace he walked toward him and casually sat beside him. The contact put down his newspaper and took a deep breath, taking in the surroundings.
The contact spoke without looking at the man
“I heard sirens” He spoke in Russian.
The man made no sign that he had heard or understood what had been said, he continued to look out over the lake, then slowly he opened his hands palm up “It’s understandable for an establishment born in the 21st century to appear so modern, but this is spectacular” he spoke in Spanish but had no trace of an accent.
The contact nodded in agreement, and replied in Spanish “The Palau makes use of the most modern technologies; I trust you did the same?”

The man took off his sunglasses and tilting his head slightly looked anew at the state-of-the-art facility, his eyes narrowed “Yes, the job is done”

The contact took an envelope from his pocket and offered it “The password and access code will be changed 24 hours from…” he checked his watch “…now”
“Ah, and I wanted to go to the Ocean Park” The man took the envelope and folded it without a second glance
“I better go to the bank while my credit is good”
He put the envelope in his pocket and, then turned to look directly at his contact for the first time.
“This is a beautiful city, you don’t want me here too long blowing holes in it” he replaced his sunglasses, the conversation was over.

The contact stood up and walked away without looking back, he had met KGB agents and killers before, but this man was different, this man struck fear into his very soul. He tried to think what it was about him that set him apart from the others but all he could remember were the eyes. The man’s features seemed to melt in his memory and now after just one hundred meters all he could recall about the killer was the blank canvas of a face and the cold look of evil in those piercing blue eyes.
It was a warm sunny morning in Valencia but the contact shuddered as an ice cold tingle ran up his spine, he continued to walk away resisting the urge to look back or to run.

Hospital Militar Vazquez Bernabeu

Chenko became aware that he was still alive when he awoke in a hospital bed. Pain coursed through his body.
A nurse reassured him; slowly he became aware of the wires and tubes connecting his body to the machines at his side.

He drifted back into unconsciousness and as he floated away he dreamt he could smell her fragrance.
He slept again, the next time he regained consciousness his wife was at his bedside.

He could see she had been crying but now she put on her concerned yet dignified face and held his hand.
“Vladimir, thank God. I prayed for you” she ran her hand over his forehead.
“Ah Liela, thank you, next time please say one for me”
“Why did this happen? Leila asked
Chenko took a deep breath and beckoned her to come closer
“The Government are attempting to blackmail the West in order to raise funds to win back the satellite countries lost when the Soviet Union dissolved”
“How does that involve you?”
“They want Sibneft. I will not allow the collateral to be used be Medyev” Chenko took a moment to gather his strength. “And if I were to die, there would be no opposition to the Government…” he let the obvious drift.
“But you have political supporters?” Leila struggled to grasp the gravity of the statements.
“If I can survive this, I can be the next Russian President”
“If you can survive. I will have to pray again”

Over the following week he was interviewed by the police and staff from the Russian embassy, he also learned that only three of the crew on board had survived the blast.

Two weeks later Chenko left hospital; he was accompanied by his wife, son Pavel and daughter Sascha, along with two Spanish policemen and six bodyguards provided by the Sibneft Corporation. It was for this reason that no press were allowed to film or report on the event.

It was another month before his Doctor allowed him to return to his office, security was still heavy and the guards hemmed him in so much at he felt claustrophobic. After listening to his staff welcoming him back, he left the guards in the outer office and thankfully closed the door. With a heavy sigh he sat alone in his arm chair and emotionally rubbed his hands over his mahogany desk.

After gathering his thoughts together he began to go through his post (the important business correspondence had been handled by other members of the board). He was totally relaxed and quietly touched by the compassion shown by a number of well wishers.

The next letter he opened was type written and explained in technological and scientific detail the type and amount of explosive that had been used to destroy the ‘Prestige and Glory’. It went on to explain that in addition to strength, explosive materials display a second characteristic, which is their shattering effect or brisance (from the French briser, to break).
This characteristic is of practical importance in determining the effectiveness of an explosion. The rapidity with which an explosive reaches its peak pressure is a measure of its brisance.

A brisant explosive is one in which the maximum pressure is attained so rapidly that a shock wave is formed, and the net effect is to shatter the material surrounding it. Thus brisance is a measure of the shattering ability of an explosive.

The final line said simply ‘Next time I won’t miss’
It was signed STASI

He went to the mini bar and took a shot of vodka. In the late afternoon Chenko used one of his secretaries’ mobiles to phone his wife. He told Leila that it would be better if he disappeared for a while, and told her where she could find a mobile phone which would be their only means of contact, and only as a last resort.

Six weeks later just as spring was pushing through the Russian winter curtain Leila Chenko heard an unfamiliar ring tone; she reached for the ‘secret’ mobile. She knew it could only be from Vlad, and her mood became as light as a Russian spring day when the air is fresh, the trees turn green and the days grow long, but the words she was hearing turned her heart colder than any winter she had ever known. She did not recognise the voice, her concern turned to despair, in the past three months she had gone through the emotion of hearing that her husband had been blown up on a racing yacht, now she experienced every mother’s worst nightmare. The voice was neutral “Everybody likes to leave their house and breathe the different aromas of spring’s first flowers, the trees and even the soil. But I must tell you; this morning as the snow was melting and it’s losing its brightness, I took your son. If you ever want to see him again, you must make contact with your husband now and advise him to release his political dreams and allow the Government investigation into his company to go ahead”

[volante]

Chapter Two

Ushanka

DRESDEN, Germany
No. 4 Angelstrasse is a stone built single storey villa which was first painted grey by its owners in 1961, perched on a hill overlooking the Elbe, it received a second darker coat by a young major in the Soviet secret police who spent the latter half of the 1980s recruiting people to spy on the West.
He arrived in Dresden at age 32 when East Germany was a constant source of Cold War tensions and intrigue, and a major focus of Moscow's attention. The German Democratic Republic was home to 380,000 Soviet troops and 4,000 Soviet intermediate-range missiles.
At that time, several thousand KGB officers reported to a headquarters at Karlshorst just outside Berlin, but they were not the only group of secret police in the area, almost one thousand Soviet military intelligence agents were also stationed in East Germany. But their numbers paled into insignificance against the biggest intelligence operation Europe has ever known; they were known as the Stasi and they were the East German secret police.
In 1986 a major KGB effort was underway to steal Western technology. The Soviet Bloc was so far behind that agents at Stasi headquarters often preferred to work on a Western-made Commodore personal computer rather than on their office mainframe.
The presence of Robotron the giant electronics company based in Dresden also provided a fascinating focal point, with its employees being prime candidates for recruitment into one of the spying organisations, either that or that they were under suspicion as being Western agents for not wanting to become part of the great game (as Kipling phrased it)
The young major’s name was Vladimir Chenko and he looked for East Germans who had a plausible reason to travel abroad, such as journalists; scientists and technicians, for whom there would be acceptable "legends" or cover stories. Once he found them he trained them to be spies.
The legend was often a business trip, during which the agents could covertly link up with other spies permanently stationed in the West or for recruiting Westerners who came to East Germany from such large electronics companies as Siemens or IBM. Chenko was also interested in military electronics and intelligence which he would spirit away from under the very noses of his rivals at Military Intelligence; he was as adept as anyone could be at extracting information about NATO activities from the informers from the West.
According to Soviet intelligence Chenko's objective, to lead his team of agents on missions to steal Western technology and NATO secrets was a great success, and upon his return to Russia in 1992 was hailed as a hero of the state.
He continued to work for the KGB as a spy master, planning operations throughout the World. He regarded Vladimir Putin as a close friend and that friendship benefited both men as they rose through the ranks of their chosen careers.
But all that was set to change when a document released by the Putin regime in March 2000 claimed that during his time in Dreseden, Chenko had been personally responsible for the deaths of at least ten KGB agents and a further twenty five East German citizens. The document exposed him as a double agent and as nothing more than a hit-man for the Russian Mafia, lining his pockets with money raised by the gangland bosses back in Moscow.
Chenko denied the allegations and used his influence to initiate a private meeting with Putin. Whatever was discussed at that meeting led to Putin releasing a further statement admonishing Chenko of all the allegations; Chenko, however soon left the KGB.
Now it was 2008, the cold war was over, and Vladimir Chenko had a very different career.
His notoriety over his innocence of the Dresden allegations gave him a new found fame, and he put his KGB experience to good use by calling in favours with a number of people and companies from his vast network of contacts.
In 2004 he was appointed as Chairman of Sibneft the ailing Russian oil company and turned its fortune around within two years.
In 2006 he bought No 4 Angelstrasse, but this was the first time he had visited since then. The grey paint was now dull and flaky, and the interior paint of the villa yellowed with its wallpaper peeling from the corners, and as they entered the sitting room the wind whistled through the gaps in the window frames, screaming like ghosts from the past. He was pleased that he had opted for his winter overcoat.
“Oh Ushanka, how you have aged” He turned to the man standing beside him.
The man looked around the room and nodded in submissive agreement, already he regretted unbuttoning his dark blue duffle coat.
The man was a British journalist, his name Peter Graves and he worked for the BBC. Chenko had chosen Graves for this meeting because of his known connections with the British secret service. They took their seats and, overcome with curiosity Graves asked “What does Ushanka mean?”
Chenko rubbed his hand across his head “It is the name of the Russian soldiers fur hat, I had one in the same shade of grey that I painted the walls of the villa”
Graves silently wished he had one now as there was little to no heating in the place. “If I could just verify the details”
Chenko nodded he could see the younger man was impatient and had little time to indulge in Chenko’s word games.
Graves began to read aloud from his black leather note book.
“You were born Oct 7 1951 Leningrad, now St. Petersburg, the only son, of a factory foreman. Sven and his wife Ludmilla. Entered Leningrad State University's law department in September 1970”
Chenko drifted back to his early years, remembering how his mentor Valery Musin, then a university lecturer, had said the law department was a good training ground for the KGB, the police and the bureaucracy.
He recalled the excitement he had felt when the local KGB resident targeted him for recruitment even before he graduated in 1975.
"You know, I even wanted it," he said out loud forcing the journalist to stop mid flow, Graves looked at him enquiringly
“To join the KGB. I was driven by high motives. I thought I would be able to use my skills to the best for society."
They both nodded and the journalist continued he knew this was a scoop; he would be able to live off this story for years. Chenko as the chairman of the Russian Oil company Sibneft had disappeared over six weeks ago, which in itself was not newsworthy, but Chenko as the probable next President of Russia, now that was newsworthy.
“You graduated from the International Law branch of the Law Department of the Leningrad State University in 1975 with a final thesis on international law”
Chenko heard the words and visualized the memories. He worked in the Leningrad region Fifth Directorate of the KGB, which combated political dissent in the Soviet Union. In 1976 he completed the KGB retraining course in Okhta.
He drifted away again languishing in the memories until a name brought him back to reality with a bump “…and then in 1985 at the Red Banner Yuri Andropov KGB Institute in Moscow, you joined the KGB Political intelligence branch, reporting directly into Vladimir Putin”
Chenko became animated and filled in the gaps and put his side of the story across for the years between 1985 and 2000, there had been many an exciting escapades with agents he had trained and Western spies sent to kill him.
They spoke about the allegations from the Kremlin that he was a double agent, but Chenko laughed off the suggestion, explaining it was just professional jealousy, he had always been loyal to the cause. “Please check with your MI6 as to where my loyalties lay, they sent many agents to Dresden to eliminate me”
“So how did that make you feel about the West?”
Chenko recognized that Graves was looking for a sensational response, but he smiled and shook his head “They were the same men as me, sent by the same spy masters as me, the only difference is that I served a different country with a different ideal to die for”
“Or kill for” said Graves. He was actually beginning to warm to the man, his philosophy was sound and his education had stood him in good stead to be able to build a capitalistic business after the fall of the communist ideals.
Chenko began to recount his raise to fame at Sibneft, how he had transformed the boardroom strategy of the lumbering homeland giant into an aggressive company looking for business opportunities World-wide.
Graves enquired if any pressure had been put on him from Putin during this period “Intelligence experts believe that since Putin became president, the Russians have rebuilt a network of agents in the United States, why did he not ask you to assist him?”
“Putin served 16 years in the KGB himself, including a spell in foreign intelligence. He was head of the ‘FSB’ which has been operating widely in America. Agents, some acting under diplomatic cover, are always recruiting specıalısts in American facilities with access to sensitive information. He does not need me to tell him anything about spying” Chenko laughed lightly, and he moved to ease the pain in his back and hip.
They drank another cup of coffee from the silver thermos flask and then Chenko said “Ok let’s cut to the chase” his body was beginning seize up in the cold. Memories of his injuries and subsequent recovery came flooding back.
He took a white envelope from his pocket, Graves could see it had been opened, he expected Chenko to hand it to him, but the Russian simply used it as a pointer and began to recount “One of the most controversial aspects of Putin's second term was the continuation of the criminal prosecution of Russia's richest men, especially Mikhail Khodorkovsky, President of Yukos oil company”
Graves acknowledged he was aware of the issue, Chenko continued “While much of the international press saw this as a reaction against Khodorkovsky's funding for political opponents of the Kremlin, both liberal and communist, Putin argued that Khodorkovsky was engaged in corrupting a large segment of the Government to prevent changes in the tax code aimed at taxing windfall profits and closing offshore tax evasion vehicles. Khodorkovsky's arrest was met positively by the Russian public, who saw the oligarchs as thieves who were unjustly enriched and robbed the country of its natural wealth” he paused for breath.
The journalist chipped in “Are you saying this privatization was fraudulent?”
Chenko replied “Yes, Yukos was valued at some $30 billion in 2004, but a year later it was sold for only $110 million”
Graves was pensive and added almost to himself “Putin claimed that the Kremlin had no interest in bankrupting Yukos”
“Ha” Chenko spat “The fact that the company's assets were auctioned at below-market value and new debts suddenly emerged out of nowhere, preventing the company from surviving, was what a coincidence?”
Chenko laughed at the statement “The main beneficiary of these tactics was Vladimir Putin. It is clearer now than ever that the expropriation of Yukos was a ploy to put key elements of the energy sector in the hands of Putin's retinue. Moreover, the Yukos affair marked a turning point in Russia's commitment to domestic property rights and the rule of law."
Graves continued “The fate of Yukos was seen by western media as a sign of a broader shift toward a system normally described as state capitalism, where the entirety of state-owned and controlled enterprises are run by and for the benefit of the cabal around Putin”.
Chenko’s voice became harder; his eyes narrowed “Exactly what that collection of former KGB, the Saint Petersburg lawyers, and other political cronies wanted the Western world to believe"
The outburst stemmed, he continued “During the demise of Yukos, I won contracts for Sibneft, our position in the market became very lucrative, and then two years later when Sibneft becomes the most profitable company in Russia, I was approached by government officials and told that my company was going to be investigated for fraud and tax evasion” Chenko paused for effect.
“By profession I am a lawyer, I read their accusations, and I fought back, I rallied support and the wind was at my back, so much so that questions were raised in October 2007 in the Kremlin about the actual destination of the $13 billion made available by the state-run Gazprom as payment for 75% stake in Sibneft”
“I take it this was the same approach that was made to Yukos, but this time the answer was no?”
“That’s right Sibneft is a bona fade company we will not act as a slush fund for Putin and the Russian government. Our funds were frozen in our bank account”
The journalist did a quick calculation “$13 billion plus the $20 billion in 2005, that’s a lot of money, just where he is putting the funds?”
Chenko smiled and he waited for the penny to drop, it took Graves a couple of minutes to work it out then he asked “Do you believe that Putin thought that if he allowed you to take charge of Sibneft you would feel obliged to accept this offer at a later date”
Chenko nodded “Or intimidated”
“And he expected you look upon this as his investment. After all he had bankrupted your major rivals?”
Chenko nodded again, the smile spreading across his face
Graves was careful not to suggest that Chanko was complicate to the plan “and now he needs more funds, why?”
Chenko nodded again “Funds for his war chest”
The alarm bells rang loud and clear in Graves’ head, he needed to stay calm and probe “So you are fighting him on the political front?”
“That is correct, now is not the time for war, and I told this to Putin. But our friendship means nothing to him. An attempt was made on my life. I dropped out of sight for a couple of months after my recovery. But I was contacted, and told that my son had been abducted from the Leningrad Military District Spetsnaz Brigade barracks” he gestured with the envelope “This letter says that my son will be one of the first casualties of the war”
“You keep saying war. What war?” asked Graves
Chenko took a deep breath, paternally he had hoped Graves would have reacted to the fact his son had been kidnapped, he continued with his story “The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 presented great opportunities for the Russians to penetrate the CIA. Russian agents are also entering America legally as immigrants”
Graves knew that the increase in Russian intelligence activity abroad was in step with Moscow’s more aggressive stance since Putin had come to power and turned the country’s lagging economy around on the back of record high oil prices, Chenko’s story certainly made sense.

Chenko spoke with conviction “Relations between Russia and the United States are worse than at any time since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Comparisons with the tension of the cold war years have become commonplace, but I am not part of it. Putin thinks the United States has been weakened by Iraq, he thinks he has been strengthened by recent events and high-priced oil and now he is trying to put Russia back on the international map”
“Let me tell you how this started” said Chenko, he settled back into his chair “Moscow had a meeting with Brussels to form an agreement to cover trade, energy and foreign policy. At the time Poland was blocking the negotiations because of a Russian ban on its meat exports. The Kremlin’s relations with Lithuania was also tense following Moscow’s decision to cut oil supplies to the Baltic state”
Graves knew of the meeting “This was last February?”

Chenko confirmed with a curt nod of the head, he continued “Putin accused America of imposing its will on the rest of the world. He said that Washington’s plans to install 10 interceptor missiles in Poland and a radar station in the Czech Republic as part of an anti-missile shield was bitterly opposed by Russia, his actual words were “could provoke nothing less than the beginning of a new nuclear era”.
Peter Graves, instantly knew that what he was hearing would have an enormous effect on his personal life at that of the Western world, he truly believed that Chenko was reaching out to the West to prevent an escalation to war.
Chenko soberly began to speak again “Soon Georgia will be forced into a conflict in the South Ossetian capital of Tskhinvali. Russia has already set up a military base near the village of Agubedia in Abkhazia's Ochamchir district and has deployed heavy armor there. By the end of the week the Russian ambassador-at-large Yuri Popov will warn the World that Russia will intervene in the event of any further Georgian military conflict. Dmitry Medyev will be forced to dispatch volunteers primarily "from North Ossetia", in the Republic of South Ossetia to offer help in the event of prolonged Georgian aggression.
Chenko lent forward and passed the envelope over. Graves took it from him and eased a number of discs and a bound report and two type-written letters from it. He scanned through the report, carefully translating the messages it contained. Chenko waited until Graves had digested the summary. “Now, you will pass this information on to MI6? this evidence will act as collateral on my life and guarantee that my company is not investigated, as long as Sibneft continues to trade with the West, Russia cannot mount an offensive, the attack on Georgia is about as much as they can manage. The main threat will be the manipulation of short term investments through the American banks. I am sure the British Government will not be stupid enough to allow its banks to buy up the sub prime ‘securitizations’ and risk the economy of the Western world”
Graves was unable to grasp the significance of Chenko’s statement and so asked “What about your son?”
Chenko wondered if the concern was genuine “He is just bait to get me into the open, I believe he is already dead”
Graves picked out a quote from the report “Any Western aggression over the attack on Georgia, will result in the cessation of oil and gas supplies into Europe”
Chenko dismissed his concern “Saber rattling only I can assure you. Without the funds from Sibneft there can be no possibility to mount a serious attack, this is only a diversion to deflect understanding from the global liquidity crisis, I tell you Mr. Graves, give this information to your government, tell them to be calm”
Graves waited for the punch line, and in response Chenko issued his statement “A contract has been taken out on my life Mr. Graves, either Medyev or that gangland boss Putin have sanctioned it. My request is a simple one; I want MI6 to find this accursed Russian hit-man. Stasi and terminate him with extreme prejudice, and with my collateral in place I will continue to be the friend of the West with my pipe line. If MI6 refuse, I will allow the investigation and eventual release of funds to take place. Russia will be in a position to make war in just eight months time”
Graves looked up from his notes he folded the letter and slipped it in the envelope “Russia once described you as a Mafia trained hit-man”
“There is no training to become a hit-man, you either have the ability to kill or not. If you are prepared to kill for money, someone is always prepared to hire you. I have no regrets” Chenko sat back in his chair proud to defend his role in the Soviet-era intelligence service.

Graves put the envelope in his briefcase. He smiled at Chenko, who returned the gesture “Now, please take the information to MI6 and tell them to contact me quickly with their answer”

“How do they get hold of you with their answer?”

“They are to contact my wife within two days; she is expecting them at the Odessa dasha. They put my family in safekeeping, well away from Russian assassins, and I want their best man. Tell ‘M’ I want their best agent on the case; tell ‘M’ he can reach me at Caedere, he has seven days from now” he spelt the word out ‘c.a.e.d.e.r.e’ “All the information is in the documents I have given you and you will be able to verify from my wife, if MI6’s best agent cannot work it out then nobody will” He laughed without mirth.

Graves had no idea what Caedere meant, so as a reflex he began to write down the word. Chenko eased himself out of his chair and lent forward touching Graves’ arm with his hand.
“Please don’t write that down Mr. Graves. I am entrusting you with my life, try to remember the correct spelling”
Graves closed his note book and stuffed it into his briefcase.
They both stood up and shook hands
“If MI6 do not have my family in safekeeping nor have they contacted me within seven days with that assurance I will start negotiations with Medyev”

Klotzsche Airport Dresden

Stasi, had known that by releasing the information on the abduction of his son, Chenko would be forced into the open, and when his German informant gave him an address in Dresden he silently thanked his god of good judgement.

The flight timetables were on his side too, so there was a relaxed air of confidence about him as he approached Klotzsche passport control. The immigration officer verified that the Passport was genuine and confirmed that the blond haired, blue eyed German man in front of him matched the photograph. “Thank-you sir, everything is in order”

Stasi put his bags in the boot of his Audi A4 hire car, and was soon out on the road toward Dresden, things were going very well. But all that was to change when thirty minutes after leaving the airport his mobile rang and his informant told him that both Chenko and the man he had met with at the villa in Anglestrasse had now left.
“Are you following Chenko?” He asked in German
“No, it was impossible, too much security”

“Where are you now?” asked Stasi

“I’m following Chenko’s contact he is in a Funk Taxi on the A40, heading toward the airport”

Stasi, checked his position and turned off at the next junction. He had only two minutes to wait and was able to join in the pursuit as they came past him.
The taxi continued past the airport entrance and pulled in to the Quintessenz hotel which is close to the airport on the outskirts of the Dresdner Heide.

Stasi parked the Audi and watched his target as he paid the taxi fare, then with his bag over his shoulder he followed the man to the reception desk, now he was in the perfect place to overhear the targets’ details as he checked in.
More good luck, there was only one girl at the desk
Stasi waited patiently, just behind his target.

“Hello, I have a room booked for one night in the name of Graves. Peter Graves”
The receptionist checked her screen “Yes. Could I take your credit card sir?”
Graves handed it over, and then looked around the reception area; he made eye contact with Stasi.
Stasi smiled at him and un-tied his scarf in an elaborate show of normality.
Graves was a good judge of character and although this man was in a normal setting giving off nothing but friendly body language, he felt disconcerted by the man’s eyes. They seemed too blue to be real. Graves realised he was staring, and turned back to wait for his key.

The pretty receptionist called the porter to take the suitcase and offered Graves his key. “Room 311, the porter will take you sir. Have a pleasant stay” Graves took his key, and followed the porter to the lift.
The girl now turned her attention to the handsome man who had waited patiently without showing any signs of frustration; she was impressed by his Germanic self discipline. She waited with anticipation for him to give her his name, pleased that her colleague was taking a break.
“Hello, I am enquiring about the availability of a room for tonight” His German was perfect with maybe just a hint of a Bavarian accent, but something about him told her he wasn’t German.
Her heart sank and she felt moment’s panic flush her face as she felt reluctant to tell him that the hotel was full. “I’m so sorry sir, the hotel is full”

Stasi smiled and it made her heart skip a beat, “Not to worry” He said and winked at her as he left the desk, happy in the knowledge that Peter Graves was staying on the third floor for one night only.
The girl was soon joined by her colleague, the receptionist was eager to tell her about the young man that had made such an impression upon her, but as she tried to describe him she realised that all she could remember were those dark fathomless eyes.

Stasi went to the car of his informant and joined him in the front seat, he spoke quickly to the man and never let his eyes drift from the hotel entrance. Satisfied that he would soon be updated on Chenko’s whereabouts Stasi got out of the car and waited until the informant drove away. Stasi then took out his mobile and began to gather information on Peter Graves.

[volante]

Chapter Three

Shelby

A dog barked.

At the sound of approaching voices, James Bond drew deeper into the shadows.
In the distance a train whistle blew, announcing its imminent arrival, closer to his left he heard the steady hum of a generator, which was powering the lights and electrical lifting equipment on the nearest loading bay, and up ahead the squealing axels of the stock cars as they were shunted into position. Even at two a.m. there was a myriad of noises in the stock yard.
Bond filtered out these distractions until he was able to focus on the crunch of gravel compressed by the boots of the guards.
Once they had passed his hiding place he knew he would have the luxury of seven minutes in which to escape before the whole place exploded.

The torch light swung left to right at the end of the container ally in front of him, the guards were coming.
Bond took a deep breath and held it
Then they appeared, silhouetted against the lights from the works beyond one of the many rail links.
The dog barked again.
The beam of the flashlight extended down between the containers, but it did not reach Bond’s hiding place. He had not been briefed that the guards would be using dogs, but his eyes and ears now told him different.

Suddenly one of the guards dipped down and the dog leapt into life, growling, snarling and barking, the night air was full of the primeval sound.

Bond broke cover, unseen by the guards the movement was picked up by the dog, and it accelerated forward into the darkness.
He heard the guards shouting and knew they would come after the dog
Bond continued to run at a good pace, dodging between the containers, a few moments ago he had held the upped hand, now the pendulum had swung and he knew he had only a few precious moments to make good his escape.

Bond emerged from the darkness and caught the guard unaware. The man could only register complete shock as Bond shot him with the silenced Walther, but the act was observed by the man’s partner who began shouting. Bond sprinted across the illuminated thoroughfare and disappeared into the black gap between two more containers, as the guard pulled out his gun and started to give chase the dog streaked across his path. The dog handlers returned the guards call for help and the three men followed the pursuit. Bond turned out of another container ally, and as with all the best reoccurring nightmares the building he saw in front of him, reminded him it was not where he wanted to be, but there it was right in front of him, the warehouse where he had planted an incendiary devise and enough explosives to vaporise the contents, but here he was racing toward it, he sprinted along the wall looking for the ladder he had recently used to exit the building, the dog was gaining on him, and the guards were encouraging it from a far.

Stepping from the darkness the guard caught Bond unaware and they bounced off each other, but Bond recovered quicker, and was on his feet as the other man began rising to his knees, Bond kicked him in the face and he slumped back down against the wall. He could hear the dog panting behind him, it thudded over the gravel like a race horse, and Bond searched the darkness for his way out.

The ladder was old and rusty and the rungs felt wet and cold to the touch, Bond put his foot onto the first rung and steadied himself.
The dog hit him, its jaws searching for an area to bite into, its breath hot against Bond’s skin. Bond brought his elbow up into the dog’s snout, it arched its body and raked its back legs into Bond’s thigh, Bond twisted and shook the dog from his body, he held onto the ladder with one hand and now swung back, the dog had twisted on the ground and was already leaping in a renewed attack, Bond kicked out and caught it in the chest. The dog yelped and fought to catch its breath as another growl emitted from its snarling jaws. Cautiously it came at him again.
In the periphery of his vision Bond saw the first guard emerge into the light, the man stopped as he took in the scene, he was breathing hard and needed to steady himself before mounting an attack. Bond used the seconds wisely and pulled the Walther from its holster on his belt, he aimed and fired in one movement, Bond saw the man fall but the retort was doubled because a second guard fired at the same time, his bullet ricocheted off the rung an inch from Bond’s hand, but it was the last shot he ever got off because Bond twisted and fired another shot in the direction of the muzzle flash, his bullet embedded itself into the man’s heart. The third guard came out from the shadows and levelled his gun but Bond had heard the movement and had twisted back and fired another deadly shot silencing the wheezing man forever.
Bond began to climb, he was about six feet up the ladder when the dog smashed into the bottom of his boot, its jaws clamped like iron into the leather heal, the added weight pulled Bond away from the ladder, his hand slipped as the dog began to drag him down. Bond fell, then grabbed the next rung, the dog was shaking its body trying to dislodge its prey. Bond could not et a grip on the rung and felt his hand slipping, he pulled out the Walther with his free hand and aimed the Walther down into the dog’s hellish face and loosed off one more shot, it yelped and released him, it dropped to the ground it took up station at the foot of the ladder looking up and growling, a physical marker to Bond’s escape route.

The train whistle blew again, much closer now.
Bond hoped it would be on the track closest to the far end of the warehouse. He climbed.
At the top of the ladder he checked his watch, this was going to be close only two minutes until it blew; he kept close to the edge, not trusting the old roof with his weight.
Pale fingers of light were appearing between the dark clouds as the dawn broke.
Bond continued to run at a crouch when he reached the back corner of the roof he was relieved to see the train directly beneath him, he holstered the gun and prepared himself for the thirty foot drop, and that was when the baton hit him, another step forward and the blow would have been fatal but the guard was over cautious and struck out before he got within the killing range, Bond twisted as the baton swung at him again and this time he caught it, he continued to turn and the guard began to teeter on the edge, in a reflex move to save himself he grabbed hold of Bond’s jacket, at that moment the warehouse exploded and the force of the shockwave took their balance they both fell over the side of the building, hurtling down toward the train, with the rush of the wind thrashing at their bodies.
Bond had only one second to estimate how and where he would hit the roof of the carriage, and in that split second he could have sworn that the roof was alive and moving independently of the train.
Then there was nothing.
G.C.H.Q Cheltenham, England
Cheltenham is located on the edge of the Cotswold’s and has an image of being a respectable and wealthy town, famous for its spa and Regency architecture and in stark contrast the ultramodern Government Communications Headquarters.
The GCHQ is a Civil Service Department gathering intelligence for the security organisations. Reporting to the Foreign Secretary its members work closely with the UK's other intelligence agencies MI5 and MI6.
The intelligence work protects the vital interests of the nation by providing information necessary to support Government decision making in the fields of national security, military operations and law enforcement. The intelligence provided is at the heart of the struggle against terrorism and also contributes to the prevention of serious crime.
From a second storey office M looked out of the curved window over the hundreds of cars, parked in the shadow of the ‘doughnut’ the information she had received back in London had disturbed her enough to precipitate the trip to the west country for a meeting with the BBC journalist Peter Graves, the room was arranged in a semi formal manner and M had set the tone of the meeting, welcoming her guest warmly.
Graves was invited to recount his meeting with Chenko in Dresden, after his account there was silence.
“Can we believe what he is saying?” M asked the question to both Bill Tanner and Peter Graves, whilst pacing the length of the interview room.
Graves took up the response “Chenko will potentially by the next Russian President. He has witnessed the finale of the Soviet Union from the front line in East Germany to the boardrooms of Moscow, he talks about how the centrally planned economies of the East staggered to disintegration, and I don’t think he would want to see that again for Russia, he seems genuine”
Tanner joined in the conversation “In St. Petersburg, he got a taste of Russia's early transition to a free-market, democratic system and since taking over as CEO of Sibneft he has used his business acumen to revolutionise the pipeline capacity to the West, he’s tasted the good life and might not want it to end, he has saved Europe millions of Euros”
M returned to the desk “And made millions for himself in the process, let’s not shed any tears for this man, he is a former assassin and KGB spy master”
Graves interrupted “There is a contract on his life and his son has been kidnapped, I think he is looking for help”
Tanner read from his report “Early this morning, Georgia launched a military offensive to surround and capture Tskhinvali, this breaks the terms of the 1992 ceasefire agreement. According to a Russian military official a ten man Russian Peacekeeping force stationed in Tskhinvali was killed during the attack.
Heavy shelling, which included Georgian rockets being fired into South Ossetia has left parts of the capital in ruins. The official also claims that this attack amounts to genocide. The news of the shelling was extensively covered by the Russian media. A military reaction has followed, as Russia claims they have had to respond in defense of the South Ossetians against what they call genocide by Georgian forces”
Graves interjected “It’s just as Chenko’s report says”
M balled her fists “Where the hell did he get the information from?”
Tanner replied “He certainly embraces the conviction that "there is no alternative" to market democracy, and acknowledged Russia's economic weaknesses; he probably bought the report”
“For sure or maybe he was given a heads up by a former colleague” said Graves; then he continued “Medyev has expressed enthusiasm for reasserting the role of a strong state. He has said the Russian economy has become "criminalized," but so far only hinted that he would tackle the powerful tycoons who lord over it. Chenko has vowed Russia will not revert to totalitarianism, and he has demonstrated much skill working with Russia's fledgling, competitive political system”
Tanner summarised “It sort of adds up”
“They have to accept that to withdraw the oil supply would be criminal” Graves offered
M walked to the window again “They don’t have to accept anything they own the oil and gas”
Tanner added “If the Americans get involved it could escalate, but it’s Europe that would suffer”
M made her decision “Then we need to keep the Americans out of this. Just like the cold war again. It’s as close to a cold war defection as I can remember…”
“…and we have a heads up on the underlying reasons behind the financial crisis” M said as she sat down at the desk.
“Is there something I should know?” Graves asked his journalist manner probing
Tanner replied “Yes, we believe decisions are being influenced”
M’s glare told Tanner he had said too much.
Tanner changed the subject “The name Stasi was given to us by the German media, identifying it as an individual with no political affiliations. It was a clear statement to distance it from the former East German secret police”
M stood up from the desk and walked over to the window again, her frustration was showing, whether this was a trap or a real cry for help by a man disillusioned by his countries corrupt political system, M knew that MI6 would have to act.
Graves recognised the tension in the room “Chenko was clear about one thing; he wants your best man on the job”
M continued to stare out of the window she mulled over the alternatives, MI6 had to act, whether this was a trap or a real request, they had to respond.
She turned toward Tanner “Where is 007?”
Bond began to sense pain, and then the terrible smell, without moving he tried to localise all the problems with his body, but he felt a quick kick into his ribs, so he remained motionless, trying to assess his situation. The next sense to return was his hearing, he expected to hear the voices of the guards, but all he could pick out was the motion of the train and a ‘buzzing’ that he could not identify.
He opened his eyes slowly, he was laying face down on a wooden floor and it was covered in straw, a couple of feet in front of him he saw the guard that had attacked him, his lifeless eyes stared back his arm at an impossible angle. But there were obstacles between the two men, Bond recognised them as legs, then he recognised the noise.
They had fallen into an open stock car full of cattle, the animals had broken Bond’s fall, but that was all he was grateful for. Slowly he got to his feet, using the metal trough that ran along the length of the car for support. He looked out at his surroundings and estimated the dawn light meant he had been unconscious for about four minutes, he looked back along the track and saw the flames and smoke billowing from the warehouse.
Bond checked his pockets, his wallet was there, but the Walther and his mobile had gone, a quick scan of the floor of the car revealed the ‘phone smashed under the hooves of the cattle.
“Think man” he said, trying to assess his position. The mission to destroy the warehouse had been successful, he had escaped, and he was not being pursued. He used his hands to check the condition of his injuries. Except for some superficial cuts the only problem he could feel was a swelling of his left ankle.
He moved to the side of the car and bathed his leg in the cold water. The train continued and Bond dozed and used the time to relax and recover. After forty minutes the train whistle blew and brought him back to reality, Bond looked up ahead and saw a group of buildings, he limped across the car slapping the cattle out of his way and looked at the scene from the other side, there were more buildings on this side, Bond wondered if the train would stop, then he wondered if they would be waiting for him. As he observed the town he realised there were no cars parked on the streets and no people moving at the station, the buildings were all pale painted wooden buildings like those seen in a western movie, Bond got the distinct impression this was some kind of ghost town. He tried to understand his geographical position; the cattle were probably from Texas and were being transported from the lone star state up through Abilene Kansas and on to the East
As the train arrived at the small town the whistle blew again, but did not slow down, Bond made his way to the rear of the car and he climbed over the wooded slats, he lowered himself down as far as he could and hung until the train slowed again going up a gentle incline, he dropped onto the tracks and rolled in the classic parachute landing manoeuvre. He rolled over the rail and lay on the ground for a good five minutes, the train continued. Bond stood up painfully and began to limp back toward the town.
Bond thought it must be about three am. The echo of his footsteps on the wooden platform, made him slow and try to walk on tiptoes, but it soon became clear there was no one in the station house.
Bond curled up in the waiting room and fell into a troubled sleep.
Bond woke up with a start; he did a quick set of warm up exercises to ease his aching body. Outside the station he walked across the tracks and wandered out into the middle of the main street. There was no movement, no people, no traffic, nothing. Bond limped up the street taking in his surroundings; it was a ghost town, totally deserted.
Then Bond noticed some movement coming from the front terrace of what appeared to be the town’s only hotel. As he approached he identified the shape as an old man sitting in an elaborate rocking chair. The old man looked up and down the street as Bond arrived in front of him “Did you fall out of the sky?” he shouted and Bond limped closer. The old man sniffed the air and laughed “You was stowing away on last night’s cattle train weren’t ya?” he inclined his large bullet head, waiting for an answer.
All that Bond could confirm was “yes” before the old man chipped in again “Jeez you smell bad”
Bond looked down at his clothing, his black jacket was caked in mud or worse, he looked at the old man who must have been in his eighties, his head looked totally devoid of hair, but it was only a guess as he was wearing a large brown Stetson hat, his clothing looked as if it dated back to the wild west era, a black leather waistcoat sat uncomfortably over his large rotund belly, barely contained beneath a grey flannel shirt, as he continued his vision down he was surprised to see a pair of slippers instead of the cowboy boots he expected, Bond broke the spell “Do you have a telephone I could…”
The old man laughed and began shaking his head, Bond noticed the man’s ears had unusually large lobes; everything about him was old and decaying, except his passionate voice “A limey. Sorry son, aren’t no phone here for five years or so”
Bond walked up the steps favouring his good leg “Do you have any transport I could use?”
The old man poured some water into a glass and handed it to Bond “Sure, I got Miss Ellie out the back”
Bond drank the water, not as distinctive as a vintage champagne but in this case a real life saver.
Bond took out his wallet and started to take some large dollar bills from it but the old man waved it away “Put your cash back son, Miss Ellie’s not been out for a long time you would be doin’ me a favour takin’ us both for a spin, come on” They walked through the hotel main room, the dust was thick on the tables with heavy cobwebs forming curtains from the ceiling. A rat scurried across the floor in front of them. The old man continued without comment. At the back of the building two vegetable plots lay in abandoned disarray, Bond wondered how the old man lived. They continued up a path between the garden plots toward a large barn, constructed of the same sandy coloured wood as the rest of the town.
The old man and Bond both struggled to open the heavy doors, dust particles floated through the air as they screwed up their eyes to see into the murky depths of the barn.
Suddenly Bond knew how Howard Carter must have felt when he discovered Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings. Stationed in a chevron pattern to the left and right two deep and going back into the dark recesses of maybe ten, were cars. The first on his left was a white 1963 Ford Thunderbird, the tyres were flat and the head lights were broken and there was a rip in the black hood, but it was a genuine model, and worth a fortune, but not as impressive as the car next to it. A black 58 Chevy Bel Air, its white fin panels extenuating its length, this example had no hood and it’s red and grey leather interior had burst at the seams. Bond glanced to his right as he walked into the body of the barn. A Mercury Cougar in red looked in pristine condition except the fact that its wheels were missing, Bond looked down the side of the car and saw it was heavily damaged; next to it stood two AMCs a golden Matador and a cheeky red Hornet.
“Come on son, it’s rude to stare” The old man laughed and continued to walk toward the rear of the barn. Bond was fascinated by the collection, his love for cars was deep routed and he would have loved to spend days looking, restoring and preparing these examples, he followed the old man past indistinct shapes draped by sheets and covers, some had slipped and some were thrown back revealing a tantalising glimpse of a fender or windscreen, some he could not recognise but he was sure there were two grey Mercedes 250s and a white Toyota 200GT, all the cars were showing signs of damage.
In the centre of the chevron against the rear wall a large grey tarpaulin covered a solitary shape, mixed with the euphoria of his surroundings Bond sensed the disappointment that was to come, another old damaged example of American automotive history, and he willed the old man not to remove the cover.
“Well son, this is Miss Ellie” he pulled the cover back like a magician; Bond closed his eyes against the cloud of dust that was thrown up from the tarpaulin.
In 1968 production of Shelby cars shifted from California to Dearborn Michigan under Ford's control. The '68 car used a modified version of the 428 Police Interceptor.
Later in the year the Cobra Jet motor became available and the model called the GT500KR was born. Only 933 fastbacks were ever made.
The car sitting in front of James Bond now was a 1968 Shelby GT 500 KR finished in a deep gun metal metallic silver body punctuated by two ink blue stripes running the length of the car. The closed hood scoop, and custom upper and lower grills were not features when the car was first produced, this customisation had happened when the Mustang became a Shelby.
“Fantastic” Bond let the world slip from his lips
“Take good care of her son, lets cruise” the old man turned and walked toward the doors. Bond wanted to talk to him, find the history of his collections, but time and his desire to drive the car took over, he opened the door and sat behind the thin wooden rimmed steering wheel. A Carroll Shelby autograph stood out on the dashboard, Bond settled into the hand stitched signature front seats and checked out the white faced gauges. The engine fired up at the first turn, and the side exhausts roared with approval. He dabbed his right foot on to the Billet aluminium pedal and 600 plus Horsepower propelled him down the dusty track.
At the door of the barn Bond pulled over to speak to the old man, but again he got in first “What is it now son?”
“I wanted to say thank-you” Bond felt humble
“Yeah, and I wanted to sleep with Raquel Welch, but I ended up in this ghost town, let’s just get the hell out of here” he carefully got into the car next to Bond.
Whatever demons the old man was harbouring, Bond knew the best way to express his gratitude was to drive him far away from the source of his current embarrassment.
He put the pedal to the floor and screamed out of the back yard.
The suspension was soft compared to his Aston Martin, but the history and prestige of the Shelby oozed out of every inch of the car. Bond headed north.
The old man wound down the window and yelled “Yippy ki aay Mother…” The boom from the Flow-master exhaust cut off the rest of his rebel yell.
Twelve minutes after leaving the town limits, Bond noticed a dust trail in front and to the right of their position, it bloomed high above the sunflowers which dominated the landscape. His passenger had not noticed the potential danger, because he had come alive and was busy giving Bond his colourful life story. His name was William.
“William P Kirk at your service son” they shook hands
“Bond, James Bond”
They had gone on to talk about the cars in the barn, and William had explained that they had come about form the innocent pursuit of recovering wrecks for the highway to reliving owners who did not deserve to own such beautiful vehicles.
The dust trail was defiantly cutting in, in front of them; Bond glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the dark shape of a pursuing vehicle coming up fast.
“William, I’m going to stop and drop you off” said Bond, the old man stopped mid sentence
“This ain’t no place for a stroll son, what’s up?”
“Someone is going to try and stop me from reaching Abilene. I don’t want you to get hurt”
William looked out over the desert and saw the dust trail
“You think there might be trouble?”
“Yes” There was no hint of fear in Bond’s voice
“Yippee, no way you gonna make me miss that” Suddenly he became serious “Don’t let them take me back to that old rocking chair son”
Bond smiled reassuringly at him “Buckle up Mr. Kirk, this might get bumpy”
“Jeez, bumpy is my middle name, and I always wanted to go to Disneyland” He tried but failed to close the seatbelt around his large stomach.
Bond could clearly make out the vehicle on his right, it was a Chevrolet Trailblazer, and the one behind looked like the big 4x4 as well. It swerved left and a third Trailblazer took up station next to it, they were closing in fast.
The 4x4 was bouncing over the rough terrain; then in an eruption of dust and flower heads it burst on to the road in front of the Shelby. The big car slammed its brakes on, Bond drove to the left and gunned the engine, getting a third of the length of the Chevy before it pulled over in front of him forcing him into the rough.
Bond hit the brakes, and cut inside, the Trailblazer behind him smashed into the rear of the Shelby. Bond went for the gap but the car in front was closing in forcing him off the road, the rocks there were no more than one foot in diameter but, they would have wrecked the Shelby’s floor, Bond hit the brakes again, then he hauled on the hand brake and brought the car around, he aimed for the space between the two Chevrolets and screamed forward. The Shelby scraped through the gap but both drivers were turning in, the impact slowed Bond down, but he kept his foot on the floor the tyres screamed against the dusty road and the engine screamed to be free, like a cork from a bottle he emerged from the tangle, but the leading Trailblazer had also turned and was following him through an opening gap.
The big 4x4 hit Bond on the rear corner and flipped the Mustang around, it span twice and came to a halt in a cloud of smoke. The first Trailblazer went past and stopped about twenty yards beyond the battered Ford. The second 4x4 had pulled up behind the scene and its occupants were already out and approaching the Shelby. The third car turned across the road cutting off any chance of escape.
Bond was lying across the drivers seat, the old man was crumpled against the smashed windscreen, a steady flow of blood from his forehead. Carefully the first attacker approached, he wrenched open the drivers door and waited for a response non came. His gun pointed at Bond and inched forward and felt for a pulse in Bond’s neck, he could feel nothing.
“These guys must be dead” He stood back and holstered his gun.
The second attacker came forward “OK out of the way I’ll go through his pockets, see who he’s working for”
The second attacker lent into the Shelby and opened Bond’s jacket. What could he think then when in the calm after the chase the corpse that had just been pronounced dead reached out an arm and smashed his nose bone through his brain.
After the initial blow Bond was slow to rouse. The process he had used to slow his pulse had taken its toll. The seconds passed slowly in his mind until the blood returned to his body.
“What are you doing in there?” the first attacker asked as he returned to the car door and began looking inside. Bond shot him with the second attacker’s gun.
The noise, overly loud in the quiet of the desert signalled the gun battle.
Bond shoved the dead man off him and slipped out of the Shelby.
Sensing a problem from the gun shot the other attackers came forward at a pace, one fired into the body of the car, the bullets ripped into the silver bodywork.
Bond lay on the ground taking his time waiting for the attackers to move. He checked the magazine, only five bullets left. The noise of a man running alerted him and he aimed and fired once, hitting the first man in the leg, and then rolled over and took aim again as more heavy gunfire raked into the body of the car. Bond was pinned down behind the front wheel; the gunfire filled his head, slowing down his thinking process. Another attacker had leapt onto the roof and was firing blindly over the side narrowly missing him; Bond rolled over and fired upward hitting the attacker. Three bullets left.
Bond rolled over again but was now out in the open, the noise was overwhelming, dust was flicking up all around him; surely the bullets would find their mark soon. He fired one shot in their direction and heard another man going down. The dead attacker slid off the roof of the Mustang and thudded onto the road, his body formed a barrier shutting off Bond’s field of fire, but as he had only two shots left the problem was insignificant. The noise of the fight was growing in intensity, but all Bond could think about was getting William out of harms way. The attackers were closing in. Dust rose all around him, he rose to one knee and aimed into the cloud that billowed in front of him. A shape to his left, he adjusted his aim and squeezed off one shot. A gun barked in return as the shape of a man grew from the dust in front. Bond fired his last shot, and the attacker was stopped in his tracks and fell back onto the road, and he had to close his eyes to survive this sudden, final, death storm of dust, sand and grit.
Bond realised the sound he could hear was not that of gunfire but that of a helicopter, its downdraft was causing the eruptions all around him, there was the occasional burst of gunfire but it was not now aimed at him. An explosion rocked him; one of the Trailblazers had gone up in flames.
Bond lay in a semi conscious state, the buzz in his ears distorting all sound. Crawling to his right he looked out at the scene beyond the Shelby, the big 4x4 was well alight, and two more gunmen were on the ground one crawling slowly away.
Through the smoke and chaos someone was approaching him, Bond recognised the blue fatigues and black bullet proof vest with the yellow letters FBI emblazoned upon it, but as he looked at the face he saw something very familiar, although the bronze anti glare glasses and blue FBI cap disguised her face there was a radiance of friendship.
“Hello James, why didn’t you call me?” Daisy Sinclair knelt down next to Bond and smoothed his hair.
By the time he had thought of a witty reply he was in a hospital bed, his ankle bandaged and his cuts tended by the medical staff.
After the Doctor had left, Daisy came sneaking around the door, she was still wearing the royal blue fatigues, but her blonde hair was free and cascaded and bounced as she came quickly across the room.
At the foot of his bed she inclined her head and cupped her ear with her hand, Bond looked blankly at her.
Her full lips parted and that sexy little mock laugh of hers lit up the room “I’m waiting for a ‘thank-you Daisy’ again”
Bond looked totally confused “Why?” he asked sarcastically “Surely it was just a coincidence that we were in the same place at the same time” he smiled and reached out for her.
She shook her head and waved her finger at him “We picked you up when you came through customs in Boston” Daisy stood by the bed and rebuffed his advance; she held up a brown paper bag in her hand, Bond noticed she was not wearing any nail varnish “I checked out the projects MI6 are currently looking at here in the States. Figured out you would be going after Kassian”
“Kassian?” Bond said in mock confusion
“Yes Oliver Kassian all American gangster, 100% proof that the American dream is alive and well and flourishing on the streets of Gangland” She picked up his chart with her other hand and ‘tutted’ loudly at the statistics it showed “When the report came through that a warehouse ‘reportedly used by Kassian’ had blown up in Kansas, I figured out you must be close to hand”
Bond noticed she still wore no ring on either hand, he propped himself up against the pillows “Where am I now?” “Topeka. Shawnee County Hospital”
“You brought me potatoes?” he nodded toward the bag
Daisy came around and sat on the bed dropping the bag into his groin. She stroked Bond’s shoulder “Think yourself lucky they’re grapes”
“So if the FBI knows all about Oliver Kassian why not arrest him? Why allow him to be the number one supplier of heroin coast to coast?”
Daisy shrugged and raised her eyebrows “Because we think he has a bigger secret, we think he is a Russian agent”
“Mmm so do MI6, so why don’t we join forces?”
Daisy kissed him on the cheek “So why didn’t you call me?”
Bond frowned “I was deep undercover” She kissed him on the forehead “Well you are in deep trouble now” She traced her finger across his chest “My boss is furious that you acted without telling us” then she lent close and whispered into his ear “The real reason of course is that he is totally embarrassed that you found Kassian’s store room. The word on the street is that you probably torched three months of his grade A stock” She sat up again “That’s about $3million dollars that Kassian can kiss good bye, and a huge loss of face for the FBI. So to make amends is there any information you want to share now in order to calm him down?”
Bond looked up at the ceiling in mock thought; then he pulled her closer to him and began to undo the buttons on her jacket “There is something I would like to give you”
She shook her shoulders and allowed the top to fall behind her, her hair cascaded down her back “Good let me have it, don’t hold back”
“I won’t”

[volante]

Chapter Four

Campeche

Bristol, England

Peter Graves had gone directly to the BBC studio in Bristol after his meeting at GCHQ
Now he sat in the broadcast chair, his heart beat rising to the occasion. The red light was on in the small room where he was to give his interview, the man next to the camera was counting down with his hand, lights blazed in his face “Today, Russia ruled out peace talks with Georgia until they withdraw from South Ossetia” Graves nodded in response from a question only he could hear from the anchor woman in London “That’s right they will need to sign a legally binding pact renouncing the use of force against South Ossetia”
Graves understood the signal and went into his closing sentence “Retreating Georgian forces have reportedly mined the civilian infrastructure in South Ossetia, including some private houses. Civilians have died in their homes during the Georgian offensive”
After the broadcast, he drank a cup of vending machine coffee, and bid goodnight to his colleagues. At the Security desk, the Guard bid him “Goodnight Sir”
He was never seen alive again.
The cold water revived him and the dread terror of his memory made him struggle again against the bonds that held him in the chair. There was movement in front of him, someone put down the bucket and approached him, he was dressed head to foot in black and in the few precious seconds he had he looked around in disbelief, taking in his surroundings. It must have been an old garage workshop the smell of motor oil was heavy in the air. Posters of topless girls adorned the walls and there were tool boxes on a bench.
Stasi hit him across the shoulder with his leather belt in a vicious downward slash, and then in a fast backhand across the cheek, Graves screamed, he kept his eyes screwed tightly closed to shut out the pain, but it didn’t work. Slowly he opened his eyes; after his vision cleared he looked up at his attacker. The man stood stone still in front of him.
The man raised his hand and Graves flinched again, but no blow came Graves watched as the hand continue to traverse toward the head, then very slowly the man took his black hood off.
“Oh ” Graves knew that if the attacker was not afraid of being recognised his chance of survival was zero.
Stasi could see Graves had recognised him but was struggling to remember where he knew him from. He brought his face close to Graves “The hotel in Dresden, two days ago”
At the mention of the name Dresden, Graves knew what this was all about; he began to panic, and fought against the bonds that held him. A fist smashed into his face, and he tasted his own blood and fought down the reaction to vomit.
It could have been seconds, minutes or hours but suddenly Graves realised he was awake again and soaking wet. The water dripped onto the stone floor. Then another bucket of ice cold water was poured over him, this time very slowly; he gulped in the air and coughed up the water. The man dropped the bucket and it banged on the floor. Graves heard a sound and realised the man was moving some kind of machinery close to the side of the chair, Graves turned his head and saw the man as he began to unwind wires and cables from it. Graves closed his eyes and began to prey. But at the sound of a hiss emitting from the machine he opened his eyes in stark terror. The long nozzle sat atop two circular valves which led on to two tubes of metal which had pipes attached to the end. The pipes looped down and out of sight to Graves were attached to the top of two cylinders.
Stasi looked down at Graves he tilted his head to one side in the manner of a dog sitting in front of its master “Most people place life before money and therefore have only simple choices to make, but anyone who values money over human life has a difficult time putting a value on their actions” Nonchalantly he attached a crocodile clip to Graves’ hand, the metal teeth bit into the flesh between the knuckle joint and first joint of the little finger of his right hand.
Stasi lit the oxy acetylene torch, the excess gas exploded as it caught light. He looked absorbedly at the flame, as if it held a secret of its own. Slowly he adjusted the oxygen control to intensify the flame. Then with slow deliberation he moved the nozzle and its fierce flame closer to the tip of the finger “This is very difficult for me to come to terms with” he prodded the flame onto Graves’ hand, the searing heat of the oxy acetylene torch hit Graves’s hand and like a voltage charge shot through his body. Graves convulsed at the pain, instantly the torch was removed. Graves struggled for breath. The stench of his own burning flesh made him gag.
“Simple choice for you Mr. Graves, just tell me where I can find Vladimir Chenko and the pain will go away” He looked deep into his eyes, as if he was recognising someone from afar and was trying to recall their name.
Graves looked up in agony, it was like looking at a cobra swaying in front of him; his fear had set off an uncontrollable bout of tears “I don’t know” he panted, his voice thin and trembling with emotion. He shook his head.
“Its difficult for me Mr. Graves because I have different values set at different levels at different times” Stasi brushed the torch against Graves’ leg, the pain was unbearable, his trousers burst into flame, Graves screamed, without compassion Stasi beat out the flames with his gloved hand and continued to talk as if they were having a normal conversation “One moment in time Bob might be persuaded to kill his wife for 5 million Euros, his boss for 3 million and a homeless stranger for 10 thousand” Stasi pulled the torch away and seemed to ponder his own conversation, then he adjusted the oxygen valve again and the flame intensified, the heat was imminence as it screamed like a boiling kettle. He let the flame touch Graves’ finger again, and then asked. “Where can I find Chenko?” Graves screamed. When he came around he screamed again but no sound came from his tortured throat and then as the pain subsided he smelt the burning flesh of his own hand.
“Some other time (say when Bob finds his boss in bed with his wife) he would kill them for free, go and get drunk and feel no guilt about hitting a stranger on the way home” Stasi spoke as if from a personal memory; another prod and Graves screamed again, when he was able to focus he realised the little finger on his right hand had been burned off, in desperation he looked at his torturer. Stasi inclined his head and asked “Who did you speak to today?”
Graves knew their names this was his chance to evade the pain, he blurted out his answer “Two people, a woman called M and a man called Tanner” He looked for praise. None came.
“And what did you discuss?” His voice was just audible over the hiss of the torch, which he was intensifying again.
Graves was on the point of collapse; suddenly Stasi put the torch onto a hook by the cylinders and broke some smelling salts under his nose. He was smiling, looking deep into Graves’ eyes as he came to. With a morbid resignation Graves brought his head up to see his tormentor again. Stasi picked up the torch from the hook and held it in his gloved hand, he just stood there grinning at Graves and then slowly and deliberately, Stasi let the searing flame trail down just inches from Graves’ leg, his trousers began to burn again “There are more considerations such as how likely you feel you are to get away with the murder (Soldier vs. citizen: (Soldier will not be punished as long as soldier's side wins and soldier survives, citizen will most likely be punished with fines, imprisonment and/or death), the level of emotional attachment to the particular individual, murderer's level of emotional discipline, etc” He was talking like a teacher delivering a lesson, the torture and pain were just by products of this perverted sermon. Stasi put the torch back on its holder, this action was so normal to him that Graves knew he must be insane. Stasi kept his rage well under control, deep down in his black heart, the conversation he was having now with himself was a repeat of one he had had with a physiatrist many years before when he had tried to fathom out why he enjoyed killing. The physiatrist had been unable to help him in his quest so Stasi had killed him.
Stasi positioned himself behind Graves and punched him around the head. Graves fell into unconsciousness
When Graves came around again, some unconscious mechanism told him he had been out for hours, his hand and leg had been coated in some kind of gel which eased the pain. He looked up; Stasi was standing in front of him. The nightmare continued.
“What did you discuss?” He asked calmly, his head turned slightly his blue eyes bored into Graves’ very soul
Graves told him every detail he could remember. Stasi listened intently, nodding and gently encouraging for more detail or confirmation as the dialog demanded.
“And the name of the man they are sending to protect Chenko?” “No name just a number 007”
“How will this 007 make contact with Chenko?” Graves felt the heady relief of knowing another answer
“He is to make contact in Caedere. C.a.e.d.e.r.e” He tasted his own blood in his mouth as he pronounced every letter
“And where is that?” Stasi asked.
Graves began to sob uncontrollably shaking his head “I don’t know, I don’t know”
Stasi knew it was the truth, he felt he had extracted everything he could from Graves so he draped a wire noose around his neck and garrotted his victim.
KANSAS U.S.A
The Kassian entourage arrived at the Kansas Residence Inn Kansas City just before lunch; the secretaries set up their communications links and two body guards liaised with hotel security, when they checked the suite a couple of changes were proposed and soon the men were able to take up station in the air-conditioned foyer, to wait for their boss. When Oliver Kassian stepped out of his stretch Hummer thirty minutes later the two body guards were totally accepted by all the hotel staff as the men giving the orders in the hotel. As the party came into the hotel, the guests in the foyer realized they were in the presence of someone important, but the fair haired man in the black Gucci suit was so boxed in by four massive bodyguards that they soon turned their attentions to the stunning woman who was walking three paces behind him.
A tall brunette with a made-for-beachwear body, glided through the hallway.The dark skinned beauty had the high cheekbones and the wide mouth of a European. The concierge smiled as she passed and she returned the gesture showing her white even teeth and the hint of a sparkle in her dark brown eyes. The concierge felt elated by the fact she had even noticed him, he tried to place her origin, but if he had conferred with others who had seen her for those fleeting seconds the arguments would have gone on for hours. Surely there were traces of Native American in those high cheekbones, maybe German or French, surely not English. Maybe it was an Irish ancestry. The thought continued but they would all wrong. She was in her mid twenties and was born in Beslan, North Ossetia.
Oliver Kassian was not a widely known name or media recognized face. Had anyone checked his background they would have seen that he been born in Vilnius, Lithuania in 1968. That was a true statement that a boy had been born at that time. It had been recorded onto his emigration papers; but he was not the man that now entered the lift. Had the USA wanted to verify any the other information entered during the immigration process, they would have drawn a blank. Records of Kassian’s childhood and schooling had been destroyed in a fire. In reality the man now known as Kassian had been imported by Russia in November 2004 to act as a deep routed insurgent. But nobody was really interested in his early life. Now he sat at the head of the Supervisory board of Natural Reliance, an International diversified investment company established in 1997. Kassian had been based at their American offices located in New York since 2004. Natural Reliance’s main assets are concentrated in three sectors - Financial Services, Mining and Aviation. Major assets include the Prankash insurance company, SMMR mining company and Continental Aviation. The company had also bought the “Stavro” system from Worldlife when the pharmaceutical giant went bust.
In 2007 Natural Reliance’s consolidated revenues exceeded $26 billion, of which maybe only 60% came from legal means.
Over the years the FBI had eliminated the power of the Mafia families. Now it seemed only corporate or international backing carried enough weight to fight off an FBI investigation; and it was just this type of backing that the Kassian projects were shrouded in. Kassian had propelled his business activities to a lofty position within American commerce. Given that his business acumen was second to none, nobody dared cross Oliver Kassian, in the boardroom let alone the drug underworld, for it was here that Kassian was seen as a pure agent of evil.
His room was cool and darkened. The blinds had been drawn by the bodyguards. Kassian was not a fan of bright sun light. Once the entourage was in the room he shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He sat opposite the flat screen TV and licked his lips “Show me the footage” His accent was mid American but his voice was deep and strong it was in contrast to his appearance. Kassian was a little less than six feet tall but his bulk led people to believe he was overweight, his fair hair and pale completion, gave the false message that he was a soft and gentle man.
The CCTV picture had been enhanced, and the time frame and identification tags allowed the viewers to follow the action. They watched in silence, but Kassian’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened.
After the explosion at the warehouse had played, the screen went blurry and then blank. Kassian turned to Wallis, his chief of staff and said “Just one man?”
“Yes sir” Wallis replied in his slow southern drawl, he tapped on the keyboard and the screen showed a video capture of James Bond. “This photo was taken at a party thrown by Ernst Blofeld of the Worldlife organization…”
Kassian interrupted “…and we know what happened to him” his smile was false and it snapped shut.
“Yes sir. The name on the guest list was James Bond, and he was accompanied by one Miss Daisy Sinclair”
Kassian looked around the room, his eyebrows raised; they were however so fair and fine that in anything other than semi darkness looked like he had none at all. Kassian was not an albino, but always liked to be lit correctly to minimize the effect his pale skin had on his colleagues. Coupled with his body shape Kassain always imagined that people would dismiss him as being harmless. Big mistake, he often overcompensated with cruelty beyond reason.
His eyes narrowed “That’s the name of the FBI bitch that cost me money in Florida”
Wallis answered “Yes Sir and the boys reported our vehicles in the desert were covered in FBI tape”
Kassian was in deep thought, but the rage he felt was kept deep inside him. He stood up and stretched; and looked over at the buffet.
“Hey, time for lunch” Kassian gestured for his team to follow him, and he led them over to the table, and as he began to place the food on his plate Kassian turned to Wallis and said matter-of-factly “Deal with them Mr. Wallis, see if my old friend comrade Stasi is interested in a trip to Mexico”
The men followed the example of their leader, and ate lunch. But before she left the lounge area the one female in the room took one more, long look at the figure on the screen.

CAMPECHE, Mexico

Freshly shaved and showered and kitted out from an exclusive Gents outfitters Bond followed Daisy out on to the verandah.
Bond had always lived by the premise that he would not look to prolong his days, but look to actively use every hour he was given; but his time with Daisy in Campeche had challenged his thoughts.
The village of Campeche brings up images of olden times and pirates plundering the coast line of Mexico. By day they wandered around the charming colonial town through its narrow streets and baroque architecture. They ate lunch on the great seawall that once surrounded the city and Daisy played at being a soldier marching along the battlements on the original fortress that protected the town from pirates.
Campeche borders the ocean, and its best known cuisine features a variety of fresh seafood. Bond plumped for the pan de cazón, a tortilla dish of baby shark topped with fried beans, onions and epazote herbs. Daisy was happy with the restaurant owner’s recommendation of Kachin-amba a shrimp delicacy with coconut, served with applesauce.
The daylight hours were filled with conversation, none of which Bond could recall and the nights were filled with lovemaking that neither would ever forget.
As they approached the villa on their third day together, Daisy noticed the grey Ford parked in the drive way of her villa, and felt the first pangs of panic. The scene transformed quickly as they both saw Rositta the housekeeper standing in the doorway. Bond heard the faint whistle of breath as it slipped between Daisy’s lips in a response from Rositta’s slight nod of the head.
She pulled the keys from the Jeep and bounded up the stone steps, just as a man emerged from the door, he beamed at Daisy and opened his arms.
“Hello darling, what a wonderful surprise” Daisy melted into his arms and returned the hug.
Bond looked at Rositta who smiled and nodded at him
“David, let me introduce you to James Bond” Daisy said and gestured toward him.
A genuine smile spread across his broad face and he marched purposefully in Bond’s direction, holding out his large hand in a gesture of friendship “Wow, James, can I call you James? I really want to thank-you for what you did for Daisy back in Hong Kong. Do you have time for a drink, before your taxi arrives” He looked at Rositta for confirmation
“Senior Bond’s taxi will be here in ten minuets. All your things are packed Senior”
“Then yes, I do have time”
As they walked through the hall way Bond noticed his bag was in front of a small guest room, in which he had not set foot.
Daisy eased information about David into the conversation, so it became acceptable to accept that her fiancée had returned unexpectedly.
David poured the Le Montrachet 1969
David had his arm around Daisy, and both were waving as the taxi drove away from the villa. Once on the road Bond sat in the back of the taxi smiling to himself, the driver was talking at him through the media of the rear view mirror, and he was genuinely pleased that his European passenger could speak Spanish. Bond was lost in contemplation, he had begun to feel guilty about his blatant use of Daisy over the past few days, however, he thought “Turns out she was using me” the idea made him laugh out loud. The Mexican driver, laughed in sympathy, and continued to talk about the National football team.

MI6 HQ London

Bill Tanner came through the adjoining door into M’s office
“007 has just reported into the Embassy in Mexico City”

Her relief manifested in a nervous fingering of her pearl necklace, then with an effort she brought her hands down to the desk, and pressed the intercom “Miss Moneypenny can you organize a Video conference with 007 at the Embassy in Mexico?”

“Yes Ma’am, would one hour be OK?”

“Yes, that’s fine”

“Of course, I will get onto it straight away” Moneypenny lent back in her chair and expelled her breath. Bond was alive.
She began to make the arrangements.

M quickly overcame her fear that 007 had been killed at the Kansas warehouse fire. Knowing he was how safe she began to question the timeline “Where the hell has he been?”

Tanner had been informed by the FBI that Bond had survived the operation, but he felt it prudent to allow his friend a little rest and recovery time. We will have to ask him?”







KANSAS U.S.A
Wallis started the chain reaction, with a phone call to an Editor on the Wall St Journal, who in turn contacted a free-lance reporter in the Kansas area. With money up front the Reporter found it easy to extract information about the FBI operation that had recently spiced up their lives.
Staff confirmed that one FBI man “English I think” had been amongst the wounded, another member of the team “A beautiful blonde girl” had left with him when he was discharged, “They were going to spend some time at her place in Mexico”.
The story was e-mailed back to Washington, and the Editor quickly passed it on to a man he knew only as “The Spider” so called because of his 24/7 obsession with the World Wide Web.
The Spider worked as a business analyst for Mondial Vision (The Company had been renamed after the Worldlife scandal).
As Spider interrogated the ‘Stavro’ data base, he brought up the transactions made on Daisy’s credit cards for the last five days. As this information was channeled back, Wallis began the tendering process for the contract.
An airline ticket to Mexico, and a transaction from Castellanos, the gentleman’s outfitters persuaded the Spider to contact Pacific Bell and confirm the telephone number of all Daisy Sinclair’s in the Yucatan province.
The telephone company confirmed an address, and the Spider sent an e-mail to Wallis. Minutes later his in-box pinged and the Spider licked his lips at the deposit made into his bank account.
Stasi felt jaded after his flight, and slept for four hours in his motel room. Then he showered and drove to Daisy’s villa.
He flicked the switch to night vision and scanned the darkened villa. A saloon and jeep were parked in the drive. He entered through the back door; silently he walked through the hallway stopping at each door to listen. Only one room seemed occupied, carefully he threaded a small tube beneath the door, it had two functions. At the end of the tube was a small thermal imaging camera; along the length was a strip which detected how much carbon dioxide was present. Stasi determined two people were in the room.
At three o clock in the morning he stood beside the bed and completed the chain reaction by killing David Carlson. Stasi administrated the poison via a hypodermic needle into his neck.
His death was silent and quick, but intuition told him something was wrong. Stasi gently pulled down the sheet and lent closer to get a good look at James Bond, he inclined his head and studied the dead face, with a silent rage coursing through his body he realized the man before him was not Bond.
From a light and troubled sleep Daisy became aware that she had to wake up, and then came the panic. Something was stopping her from breathing. Her eyes would not open. Could not open, frantically she brought her hands up to her face, the terror became a living thing something was on her face. Daisy tried to move she rolled in the bed and came upright, in the precious seconds she had she identified the object as something with a plastic feel over her mouth and nose, and then she fell to the floor unconscious.
She became aware of a strange crackling noise. She opened her eyes, but nothing made sense. Daisy tried to move her body but realized she was tied to a chair; her legs were fastened to the chair legs, her arms behind her were draped over the back. The room was still in darkness but her vision was impaired as was her breathing. With rising panic she became aware that the crackling noise was the sound of her own breath.
“It is a cheap plastic bag” The voice in the dark made her shiver. With grim realization Daisy understood the sensation of her laboured breathing. She had a plastic bag over her head. As she frantically moved her head trying to locate the voice she felt the tape against her throat. The bag was firmly taped over her head. She was suffocating to death.
“You have approximately two minutes of air left” The voice became a form in front of her, darker than the surroundings. Daisy felt the tape over her mouth, she understood that the tape on her eyes and nose had been removed and replaced with the bag. Daisy continued to breathe through her nose. The air was stale and she felt the panic of suffocation raise in her throat.
“You need to remain calm, Daisy” The voice knew her name.
“I have just killed the man you were sleeping with; I want you to tell me was his name James Bond?”
Daisy panicked, she fought against the rope and jerked her head from side to side, but the effort made her dizzy as the lack of oxygen stopped her quickly. David was dead.
“You have just one minute left to live” She felt his hand touch her through the thin material of her night dress. “Your heart is racing. Please calm down and answer my question. Just nod or shake your head. Understand?”
Daisy screamed within her body, and she felt the tears well up in her eyes and begin to roll down her cheek. She took in more stale air and choked on the cough that would not come. The room was spinning; she felt her fingers tense up against the rope. She cried in silence and now the tears poured down her face.
“Nod for yes shake for no, and all this can stop” His hand pushed harder into her sternum. “James Bond the man that blew up Mr. Kassian’s warehouse. Nod or shake”
Daisy shook her head and the bright stars of light fought with the blackness
“Do you know where Mr. Bond is?”
Daisy nodded the move was very small. Suddenly she felt the bag being squeezed in front of her face the man was cutting a hole in it. Daisy sniffed and took in the fresh air.
“Now I’m in a dilemma, if I take the tape from your mouth you will scream, but I need answers. OK I think I have the solution, now Daisy I will ask the questions you just shake or nod”
Daisy nodded her head. Stasi needed only a basic understanding of Bond’s destination to determine his actions.
“Did he go to the airport?” Daisy shook her head.
Stasi understood that Bond as an agent of MI6 operating in a foreign country would only have a limited number of alternatives open to him.
“Did he go to the British embassy?”
Daisy nodded her head.
Carefully Stasi smoothed out the plastic bag in front of Daisy’s face, and then carefully he applied more tape to close the hole he had made. Daisy made a small noise and her eyes widened in horror.
Stasi knelt in front of her, he felt saddened that he could not see the full detail in her eyes, but the night vision goggles were a necessary evil. He inclined his head “Most people don’t have ‘what it takes’ to kill another human being, even if the money is right” He gently rubbed his hands along her thighs. “When it comes to ethics, even though they deny it to themselves the lack the resource and know how can be compensated for. So what is the big stopper?” Daisy felt the room begin to spin, her breathing was becoming shallow and the sound of his voice was hypnotising her. “People are too afraid of the consequences, for men it is going to prison and getting sodomized” His hand moved up her body and rested between her breasts, he felt for her heart beat. “Most contracts are between two and eight thousand US dollars which is less than the average person wants for committing murder. You know Daisy; most people deceive themselves into believing fear of incarceration has little to do with their morals, because it makes them feel better about themselves”
Daisy’s head fell forward.
Stasi kept his hand against her body until her heart had stopped.
As he drove away from the villa, he sent a text to Wallis which said “F complete M unavailable Advise”

[volante]

Chapter Five

Aftermath

British Embassy, Mexico City.

Bond sat in the conference room drinking an insipid cup of coffee. Waiting for the satellite link he whiled away the minutes watching CNN. A reporter was explaining something in minute detail which Bond found boring in the extreme. “As a consequence to this action, Viktor Yushchenko, the president of Ukraine, said he intended to increase the rent on the Russian naval base at Sevastopol in the Crimea. According to a Russian spokesman, any re-negotiation of the use of the Ukraine naval base would break a 1997 agreement, under which Russia leases the base for $98 million a year until 2017”
The Video screen came to life, Bond muted the TV.
M and Tanner were in plain view just like they were sitting at the end of the table.
M started the conversation “Welcome back 007”
“Thank-you” replied Bond, he knew that M would have read the report on his injuries; but to speak about them would have been unprofessional.
“Can you give an update on the status on the Kassian project?”
“Certainly; there was a fire at the warehouse in Kansas, it is estimated Mr. Kassian will have a gap in his supply chain of probably three months”
Tanner cut in “Is that all, we thought it was totally destroyed?”
“It was, unfortunately Mr. Kassian has some serious ‘red’ backers for his new projects” Bond said
M asked “Who has confirmed that?”
“The FBI” replied Bond
M sat forward “My goodness Bond, you must tell us your secret; I thought the FBI would have denied any Moscow connections. What’s your technique? How did you extract that piece of information?”
Bond thought “Well, it was hard, and took a long time” he shrugged his shoulders
M nodded in approval as Tanner sat back and looked toward the heavens.
“So, what have I missed?” asked Bond.
Tanner replied “Russia invaded Georgia in an attempt to stop the civil unrest in South Ossetia. The USA threatened action unless Russia withdrew. President Medoyev will lose a lot of face if they have to withdraw, which will put one comrade Vladimir Chenko in a commanding position to replace him in the Kremlin at the next election”
“Not much then” Bond scanned through the report which had come up on his laptop.
M joined in the conversation adding some sobriety to the news “Unfortunately Medyev and Putin are putting our friendly Mr. Chenko under enormous pressure to relinquish his hold on his company, Sibneft, if he succumbs to that pressure the UK could lose control of her oil and gas supply”
“What reassurance can you give him? Asked Bond
M replied “Well, now that Chenko has effectively dropped of the face of the earth, we cannot get any message to him. The possibility of him caving in seems highly likely. Bond, we need to find him, but all we have to go on are some cryptic instructions he gave us on where we can find him”
Bond closed the lap top lid and tried to understand what part they wanted him to play
Tanner delivered the punch line “Does the word Caedere mean anything to you Bond?”
“No, not at all”
M said “Chenko wants you to contact him, go to wherever it is and protect him”
“Protect him from what?”
M wondered if Bond had extracted anything from the report
“Part of the pressure is an ongoing contract on Chenko’s life, he is being hunted by the ex KGB hit-man known as Stasi”
Bond thought about the predicament “Surely I would be better out in the field tracking down this man Stasi rather than have to wait for him with Chenko. Anyway you said he had disappeared, does that mean you don’t know where or what Caedere is?”
M contributed “We have checked every resource we have, all we can say for certain is that it’s a Latin verb
1. to cut, to hew, to fall
2. to strike, to beat
3. to kill
“Also it’s a Dutch heavy metal band” added Tanner.
As the conversation continued Bond was drawn to the TV screen; in its silence he was shocked to see an old library photograph of Daisy followed quickly by a formal picture of David Carlson. The report changed to an Ariel shot of the villa that Bond recognized as David’s home in Mexico, his mind was racing but his heart was heavy. The headlines to the story marched along the bottom of the screen and the awful realization came to light ‘Daisy had been murdered’
M’s voice cut through his thoughts but the words meant nothing “This is very important to us Bond, if Chenko survives this political struggle, and Medyev loses face over the failed coup in Georgia, we believe that Chenko will be nominated as the next President of Russia”
Bond clenched his fists as he relived the news of Daisy’s death. Right now he wasn’t thinking of protecting the future president of Russia or tracking down some unknown assassin, he had only one thought; he knew the man responsible for Daisy’s execution was none other than Oliver Kassian.
“…and because he knows where Putin’s bodies are buried he will stand a good chance of success” Tanner said
M continued “Yes, and if we can assist him now it will bode well for the future relationship between our two countries”
“What about his family?” Bond said through gritted teeth as he forced himself to look away from the TV screen, his professional mind was thinking of all the ways Stasi could exert pressure. But his heart was thumping at the tragedy of the Sinclair family. With all that had gone before Bond did not want to alert M to his latest distraction. Desperately he thought of a way to get into Kassian’s New York camp.
Bond had known that his job, his duty would not allow him to have a meaningful long term relationship, and that was something he had not really pursued but it seemed that everyone he knew was exposed to the danger he courted. Was his whole life to be enmeshed in killing and revenge?
Tanner replied “His son has been kidnapped. He is a Captain in an elite Russian Special Force battalion, but who ever has him was able to extract him from a seriously guarded base.”
Bond replied automatically “Do we have any leads?”
M sounded resigned “No, but his wife and daughter, have already been picked up and placed under our secure protection”
M left the table. Bond took a flyer he wrote New York on the pad and slid it over in front of the screen for Tanner to read.
Bond asked “Where can I meet them?” he held up the pad
“New York?” Asked Tanner
Bond cut in “Excellent choice, can you make the arrangements”
“Of course, but you need to be quick, Chenko has given you just seven days to find him. This is day five”
Bond replied “I can be in New York in three hours, make sure my contacts are ready”
He broke the connection
Peel Hotel, New York
Bond contacted Felix Leiter during the flight from Mexico. “Hello Felix, I need a favour”
“I’m fine James, thanks for asking” He answered sarcastically
“Have you heard about Daisy?”
Leiter met Bond at the airport and drove him directly to the Peel, they exchanged pleasantries and Bond had asked about Kassian’s whereabouts. Leiter passed him a memory stick “Plug it into your laptop, everything you need is on there”
“Thanks. How do the Chenkos like New York?”
“Well Mrs Chenko is just about holding it together, what with son being kidnapped, the Russian government implying her family is up to its neck in fraud and her husband missing and about to start world war three. I’m sure she isn’t really here for the shopping. Daughter’s a real cutie, so keep your mind on the job, James”
As he dropped Bond off at the main entrance Leiter touched Bond’s forearm and said “Every time I met her she spoke about you”
Bond looked him in the eye “That doesn’t make me feel any better” Bond knew he had reacted badly “Sorry Felix. Thanks, now just how long can you keep the Chenkos at the shops?”
Leiter accepted the apology “Oh maybe one hour, Langley has deep pockets”
Bond introduced himself to the CIA agent on the desk, the man confirmed that the party had gone shopping, which was fine with him as it gave him the opportunity to search their room for clues to Chenko’s whereabouts.
Bond traveled up in the elevator he knew he had to be quick he had business to attend to with Kassian. He used the house key to gain entrance the Chenkos’ suite. A Vuitton suitcase lay open by the sofa and a drawer was not closed properly in the desk bureau, Bond suddenly felt he was not alone. The door to the bathroom opened and Bond heard a soft melodic humming, then she appeared.
The girl was completely naked. Her body was in the condition of a trained athlete. Bond put her in her mid twenties her narrow waist drew him in to her superbly sculptured belly. This was a girl of extreme strength. Her face was obscured beneath a towel and her finely muscled arms were above her head busily drying her hair; the position raised and framed her small perfect breasts. With a quick flick the towel turban was in place and she looked up and saw Bond. Her scream was short but very shrill. Without shame or fear she turned and went back into the bathroom. The door closed firmly behind her
From within she spoke for the first time “What do you want?”
The accent was not as thick as he had expected
Bond was fixed to the spot, his eyes had not wavered from the space she had occupied “izvineetye Sorry they told me you were out”
“They lied. Just who the hell are you?” her tone was firm and proud and confirmed just how unattainable she was, this was Chenko’s daughter. The brief glimpse of her body was like an aphrodisiac and the look she had given him was challenging, flaunting her unassailability
“Bond, James Bond” His masculinity was returning fast
“They told us you were dead” Her voice carried an aloofness, which excited him.
“They lied” Bond recognized his own tone and knew the risk he was running as the mission continued.
“Would you wait downstairs please, I will phone when I am ready to receive visitors”
Bond left the room and found it difficult to remove the smile from his face all the way back down to the front desk “Ochin preeyatna - very pleasant”
At the exact moment he arrived at the desk the front doors revolved to reveal Felix Leiter with two CIA female agents flanking Mrs. Chenko and her daughter. The girl was an exact younger version of her mother. Leiter shrugged apologetically at his inability to keep the Chenkos away from the room. Bond’s reaction was not what he expected
Bond ran back up the stairs “Felix, let no one out and keep them down stairs until I say different” He shouted over his shoulder.
The room was empty, Bond ran into the bathroom, there was no evidence that the shower had recently been used he picked up the towel it was dry. He felt his anger raise.
Bond moved through the room the towel balled in one fist. He entered the bedroom, more evidence that the luggage had been searched. Then the curtain moved, Bond took out the Walther.
He pulled back the curtain and immediately saw the zip lines. The first was angled up and must have been used for entry from the building opposite; the second angled down and was used for the escape. Bond holstered the gun and threw the towel over the steel wire.
With hardly a pause to his charge Bond leapt up onto the balcony rail and launched himself out over the busy New York street. He zoomed down to the hotel room opposite, the friction on the towel made it smoke and Bond felt it start to tear, and he lifted his legs and dropped onto the patio of the room. He took out the Walther and went inside.
Bond searched the room quickly. Someone had drawn an Owl on a pad, next the rudimentary sketch was the word Blue.
Bond left the room and took the elevator down to reception. He called Leiter and asked if Blue Owl meant anything.
“Yes James there is a Martini bar about three blocks away”
Bond tapped the address into the mobile, instantly it gave out directions.
The Blue Owl was a cocktail lounge at 196 2nd Avenue and was regarded by the local clientele as being one of the highest order. Bond entered the bar. The warm, golden-lit grotto was very close one's vision of a 1920’s speakeasy which was essentially what the Blue Owl was modelled on. Rough stone and exposed brick walls added a bucolic appeal, as did the bronze ceiling and copper-topped bar. Bond noticed the large photograph of Veteran chief mixologist Charles Hardwick, then other pictures captured his image with the recipes for his concoctions emblazoned on the bottom. The brands all dutifully harked all the way back to the Prohibition days both with their monikers and their ingredients.
The music was loud with a pulsating beat which lent itself to the swaying body of individuals who were dancing as one entity like a tribe in a trance, this was a perfect blend of old ambiance and new chic. Bond approached the well lit, gleaming clean bar “Vodka martini, shaken not stirred”
“Right away sir” the bar tender set about his task with skill and relish. Bond scanned the dance floor
The girl was instantly recognisable, she was dancing with another girl, no she was just passing her but doing it slowly, erotically, Bond watched her move, and she was definitely heading toward the back wall.
Bond took the martini and followed her through the thong of dancers. He sipped the drink as he picked his way between two gorgeous girls, one reached out her hand and took a drink from his martini “Not bad” she said looking at Bond “Really” he replied “I thought it was too heavy on the gin, while the vodka has been poorly chilled, clearly not one of Mr. Hardwick's best” The girl recognised the brush off “Whatever” she said and continued to dance away from him.
“One of the standout features linking the Blue Owl to the legitimate speakeasies of the 20’s is the secluded cocktail room for private events at the back of the room” Leiter’s voice was coming through loud and clear on Bond’s ear piece “It’s hidden by a 2-way mirror, the space is only accessible through a private entrance, signified by a single blue light”
Bond saw the light and made for the door, out of the crowd the girl emerged, she knocked on the mirror and the door opened outward, deftly she stepped through, Bond moved quickly and followed her. The man in front of him was dressed in a light blue tuxedo which made him look effeminate but he moved forward to intercept Bond with lighting speed.
Bond threw the drink into his face and hit him in the solar plexus; it stopped him but not as permanently as Bond had hoped. The girl turned and recognised the danger she ran forward but Bond grabbed her arm, but she twisted out of his grip and fell. Another woman screamed and suddenly the private room was filled with guns. The first shots smashed into the window by Bond’s head, Bond dropped to his knee and returned the fire, and one shot found its mark. The music seemed to keep beat with the fight as a second official in a blue ‘tux’ caught Bond by the shoulder. Bond twisted the man’s hand and forced him to the ground he kicked him beneath the arm pit and dislocated the man’s shoulder. Bond moved on following the girl looking for the next attack, it was the first blue Tux that caught him, he had recovered fast and Bond recognised the danger, he twisted into his attacker and elbowed him in the chest and then dropped to his knees to fire in a groin shot. The blue mountain crumbled.
Dancers were now pushing against Bond trying to leave the private room, one man dropped at his side the victim of a bullet meant for Bond.
Bond tried to bring his gun up to return the fire but more people were pressing against him forcing his arm down. Another blue Tuxedo was approaching him, he clamped his hand around Bond’s gun arm and forced it to his side, but Bond simply hit him with his other hand he used the man’s falling bulk to create a path. As the terrified dancers parted Bond got his first glimpse of Kassian, the girl had made it to his side and was now caught between pointing back at 007 and helping Kassian to get up, and more shots punctuated the music. In the narrow field of fire Bond squeezed off two more shots hitting two more blue tuxedos. Now there were only two tables separating them.
Kassian took the girl’s hand and pulled himself up, but as he did so he pulled the girl in front of himself, his arm wrapped tightly around her neck, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his own automatic machine pistol. He sprayed the room; Bond dropped to the ground and rolled over firing but missed his target. Kassian knocked into the table and the girl fell, for an instant Bond thought she had been shot but she had just fallen. Kassian threw the pistol down and held the girl with both his hands on her shoulders; he forced her back with him. Bond was up and trying to find a target but the girl was in the way, Kassian continued to use her as a shield and was now at the back door, where two guards had appeared. They grabbed Kassian and pulled him through the door; he was off balance and had to let go of the girl. The bodyguards fired a clip indiscriminately into the room, a girl crashed into Bond bleeding from a shoulder wound; he helped her to the floor. When Bond looked up Kassian was gone. The door was shut and two bodyguards looked at Bond as he approached, they held the girl in-between them, the first man was bringing his gun up, Bond chopped down on the man’s forearm and punched him in the throat, the girl broke free and lunged for the door Bond reached forward and grabbed the girl by the hair, he jerked her back into the room and elbowed her in the ribs, and the fight went out of her. The second guard closed in attacking with a spear hand which Bond parried and countered with a straight right. Bond swept the man’s legs out from under him, and dropped his elbow into the man’s sternum.
Bond checked the door but it was locked, more gunfire burst though it, and Bond knew there was no way out that way; he picked the girl up and started back toward the private entrance back into the main body of the club. The last of the dancers were at the exits and Bond was very glad to see Felix and the CIA agent identifying themselves with the club’s security.
Outside, Bond bundled the girl into the back of the CIA car. Leiter jumped in behind the wheel and tore off; the car’s siren seemed to bring the girl back to consciousness.
She looked at Bond and spat “Hello Mr. James Bond”
“Have we met before? Of yes, sorry I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on” Bond slammed her back against the seat “Now, who sent you to spy on Mrs. Chenko”
“Kassian of course and you have just wrecked a sixteen month operation” the girl lent forward and spoke to Felix “I take it you are Leiter”
Felix killed the siren and drove sedately back to the hotel.
New York’s Newark airport has been operated by The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, under lease since 1948. It lays approximately 18 miles from Midtown Manhattan and takes between 20-60 minutes to travel the distance dependent on the traffic conditions and the daytime. There were just five passengers on board the Lear jet as it flew out in the early August evening, the amount of people on board was not unusual, what was seen as out of the ordinary was that there had been no flight plan registered with the tower. This one fact persuaded the Spider to capture the CCTV footage of the passengers as they passed a security station.
Kassian, watched the footage on a loop on his laptop screen. Bond, Leiter, Leila and Sascha Chenko, and Ornella walked through the corridor time and time again. After five minutes of total inaction he paused the film. He lent forward and touched Ornella’s face on the screen “Next time we meet I am going to slap that sickly smile off your face” he spoke to Wallis “Get Mr. Stasi on the phone”
Wallis picked up the phone “I surely will” his slow Southern accent belayed his razor sharp mind, and the former US Marine made the call.
Meanwhile Kassian was softly talking to Ornella’s image “I’m going to cut you, cut you and watch you bleed”

[volante]

Chapter Six

Shahidka

The Lear banked left.
Leiter spoke quietly “We cannot risk any communication to confirm her story”
Bond nodded “Agreed, so we keep her on ice. Now let’s find out where Chenko is”
Leiter and Bond sat opposite Leila and Sascha “Does Caedere mean anything to you?” asked Bond
Leila replied “No, nothing”
Sascha said “They are a Dutch heavy metal band”
Leiter asked “We think it’s a place”
The interrogation was gentle but thorough, but the answer was not forthcoming. Bond walked down the aisle to get a drink.
As he passed the girl, she spoke “Until your question is answered as to my motives for finding Mr. Chenko, you must accept that I want to know where he is as much as you do, why don’t you let me help you?”
Bond undid the handcuffs and escorted her back to the main table
The girl sat down “My name is Ornella Koznakova, I am Russian Secret service, I was on an undercover mission to infiltrate Oliver Kassian’s organization in the USA. These gentlemen (she indicated Leiter and Bond) cannot risk a communication to confirm my cover story, and so they are suspicious that I may be an enemy. But right here and now I can do nothing to hurt the investigation. I would like to help to unlock the mystery of the riddle your husband left us”
“You want to help to find my husband?” Leila asked
“Yes” replied Ornella
“And what about my son, nobody is interested in Pavel, you only want to find Vlad because he can stop the escalation towards a war, but who will help me to find my son?”
“Your husband still has many powerful friends in the Russian army, if we can find him, and only we can do that, then we hope that he will get the necessary help to find your son” Ornella looked at Sascha “Your brother” and then at both women “You must be very worried”
Bond was impressed by her technique, although the answers led down the same road to the same dead ends, her approach was subtly different to that already used.
When the breakthrough came Bond seized on the lead and gently guided Ornella. She was visibly excited by the prospect but kept her calm and probed skillfully.
Leila Chenko reminisced “Yes he was always playing with words and their perceived meanings. His favorite example is the Japanese preoccupation with suicide” she took a sip of water
“The whole World knows that a suicide pilot is called a Kamikaze pilot. Therefore the Japanese word for suicide must be Kamikazi. Except that everyone knows the word is Hari Kari” She laughed knowing the punch line.
“Seppaku; that is the word for suicide”
Ornella injected “But, because people think it is a direct translation they are fooled into believing they know the meaning of a word which means something totally different”
Leila laughed and nodded in agreement
Ornella pushed on “Are there any other examples?”
“Something with Latin verbs?” Asked Bond
The smile dropped from Leila’s face
“When I wanted something or liked something I would say it is something to die for. When Vlad liked and wanted something he said it was something to kill for. When we both felt strongly about the same thing we would say it is something to kill and die for” Leila searched for Sascha’s hand.
Leiter lent forward “…and you know of such a place?”
“I do. Stillicide”
Leiter typed the word into his search engine
A falling of water in drops.
He read from the screen “The word is not one of that melancholy collection ending in -cide that refers to an act of killing or something that kills (suicide, pesticide), since it comes from a different Latin verb, caedere, to fall. The first part is from Latin stilla, a drop; the English word is a reformulation of Latin stillicidium, falling drops”
Leila confirmed “Correct, we would say “Something to die for is Suicide”
Ornella asked “Where is your place to die for?”
Leila looked her directly in the eye, not knowing if the declaration would release or condemn her husband, not knowing if she would ever see her son again “While there are lots of wonderful places in the world that we visited, Kauai, specifically the North Shore of Kauai is my most favourite place on earth. Vlad always said that ‘The beauty here is astounding’ he would say”
Leiter went forward to speak with the Pilot. After a few minutes the plane banked again.
Bond needed to determine what to do with Ornella. He could just leave her with Leiter and have her transferred when the CIA handed over the Chenko’s to MI6. But he was impressed by her resolve. Kassian had unashamedly used her as a shield when he escaped from the Blue Owl. Her story had seemed feasible on its first telling, and her approach to the investigation appeared much more in line with a professional than he would have thought possible from a gangster’s trophy woman.
They sat together at the front of the cabin.
“So, what’s your story?”
Ornella ran her finger around the rim of her coffee cup as she spoke “I was a teacher in Beslan, North Ossetia, its all I ever wanted to do since being a child” in way of explanation she added “It is a small autonomous republic of the North Caucasus region of the Russian Federation”
Bond nodded, she continued “I left there in October 2004 and moved to Moscow, to join the army”
“That’s quite a career change”
Ornella shrugged her shoulders “Shahidka is a derivation of the term "Black Widow" it was the name used by the first Chechen female suicide bomber who killed herself at the Moscow theater hostage crisis of October 2002”
Bond answered “Black Widows indeed, I know that many of the women recruited are widows of civilian men killed by the Russian forces in Chechnya, one sympathizes”
She looked deep into his eyes “You are right Mr. Bond” Ornella confirmed “But do you know that the ranks of the Shahidkas are filled mainly with 15-19 year old girls. According to Yulia Yuzik many of the women have been sold by their parents to be used as shahidkas, others have been kidnapped or tricked. Only one in ten acts out of conviction or wants revenge or really wants to die. Many have been prepared to the suicide by way of narcotics and rapes. Making them ineligible for marriage, several have actually been pregnant at the time. They are given no training at all in preparation for the suicides as no weapon skill is needed to strap on the explosives. Many don't even blow themselves up, but are blown up by remote control”
Bond allowed her to continue
She continued “In 2003, the Russian journalist Yulia Yuzik coined the phrase "Shahidka, Brides of Allah" when she described the Chechen women recruited by Basayev and his associates; the phrase was used World wide after the Beslan school siege of September 2004” She looked at Bond “It is worth noting that the Chechens were the first to use female suicide bombers even before the much discussed suicide bombers of the Israeli conflict”
Bond realized she would have been at the school at the time of the siege “I understood the hostage taking was carried out by the Sabotage Battalion of Chechen Martyrs lead by Kamil Basayev an independent warlord”
“Yes a mercenary” Ornella composed herself “Our tragedy led to political repercussions in Moscow, most notably a series of government reforms consolidating power in the Kremlin and strengthening of the powers of President of Russia. One action was to track down these mercenaries. I was chosen”
“You’ve come a long way in four years”
“Yes, maybe out of sympathy or reverse discrimination, I moved swiftly through my training. My commanding officer knew I would do anything in my power to bring these men to justice and stop another atrocity like the one in my home town”
She took a drink from a plastic up “The man that now goes by the name of Kassian is Kamil Basayev. When my department uncovered his past and discovered the atrocities he had committed, the Kremlin tried to sever its ties with him, yet even without their direct support he became a very powerful man. His cover was a brilliant facade the KGB created for him in America. The Russian secret service tried but failed to expose him as a terrorist sympathizer funding an Islamic faction. So as time went by they wanted to know if they could win him back. The new regime within the Kremlin began to make funds available for him. But we trust no one, so they wanted someone to get close to him, to gauge if he could be useful to Russia again. I volunteered for this duty. I reported back to my superiors with information suggesting Kassian was not interested in KGB support. Now I am not there, who knows what sordid little conversations they are having?”
Bond thought about the information. So the FBI had got it wrong. Kassian (although brought in by Russia was running his organization without official support) was now being courted by the Russians. Inadvertently his actions could have worsened the situation.
He looked back at Ornella, she was crying silently, the tears that ran down her face were not fake or contrived, and instinctively Bond knew he could trust her.
They touched down at the Southern California Logistics Airport, used as a public airport but best known as an Aircraft bone-yard.
Bond and Ornella had already located the black Ford Edge 4x4 garaged in the CIA controlled hanger at the airport before the Lear had refueled. They were driving out of the bone-yard as it took off.
Bond and Ornella drove along Interstate 15 in California's Victor Valley; it took approximately thirty minutes to cover the 23 miles south to San Bernardino International Airport.
The CIA agent confirmed the details of their flight.
Bond parked the big Ford in the car park; they walked over to the terminal building. Ornella’s desire to clean up and buy some new clothes was soon to be dashed. For years, San Bernardino International Airport has seemed more fiction than fact, a vast sheet of concrete with a grand title where the chirp of crickets is often louder than the roar of jet engines.
The very things that make an airport an airport, passengers, terminals and scheduled flights are missing. The control tower is impressive but empty.
There was only six other passengers in the terminal, which gave a one to one ratio with the staff. As Bond and Ornella walked through the deserted building a young typically blond Californian assistant approached them “Mr. Stirling?”
Bond replied “Yes, Mr. Spencer?”
The young man laughed “No need for formalities man, just Spencer”
Bond nodded in agreement “When’s our flight?”
Spencer checked his rubber banded digital watch “She’ll be landing here in just over ten minutes”
Ornella could contain herself no longer as she looked around the terminal in disbelief “Where are the passengers?”
Spencer gestured to the six people lounging around the building “Its total gridlock, man”
Ornella asked “How do you survive?”
Spencer shrugged his shoulders "For scheduled airlines, this is the low-cost facility close to the fastest-growing part of the state," Spencer continued "If you were an airline operating six flights a day into San Bernardino and compared fees to other California airports, you would save an average $3 million a year to operate here. You would save on every fare"
Ornella repeated “Where are the passengers?”
Spencer smiled “If you build it they will come”
With a pang of regret Bond shook Spencer’s hand and bade him good bye ‘If he’s the new generation of CIA, the World is going to be more of a chilled out place’ Bond and Ornella joined the other passengers
The group sauntered out to the DC10 when called. Bond listened to the conversations the other wee having, mainly surfing terms and comments.
There were perhaps only fifty people on board, and Bond and Ornella slipped quietly into their sets just behind the wing.
Hawaii is the world's most remote island chain. It is over 2,000 miles from the nearest landfall. Hawaii consists of eight major islands plus 124 minor islands, reefs and shoals. These are strung like a necklace over the Pacific for 1,500 miles. The eight major islands are O’ahu, Maui, Hawai’i (known as Big Island), Kaua’i, Moloka’i, Lana’i, Kaho’olawe and Ni’ihau. These islands make up over 99% of the total land area.

Bond and Ornella slept for most of the four hour journey.
But as the DC10 dropped into Lihue, Kauai Airport. Bond felt fully alert.
With their newly created CIA passports checked, they made some purchases at the airport stores and bundled their packages into the back of their Toyota hire car. Lihue is located two nautical miles east of Līhuʻe, on the southeast coast of the island of Kauaʻi in Kauai County. The airport does not serve as a hub for any major airline, and the DC10 arrival from San Bernardino happens just twice a week. There are of course numerous inter-island flights, which are available daily and cut across the vast open expanse of the flat airport land. The roads however are a different matter and vehicular access to the airport is provided by a single road, the Ahukini Road, which extends from the Kapule Highway.
The passenger terminal is served by a one-way loop roadway branching off Ahukini Road and encircling a public parking lot. The remaining facilities are served directly by Ahukini Road.
Before the Toyota had left the compound the Spider was receiving a notice on his screen to alert him that two passports had had their data registered for the first time on the Stavro system. In itself this was not an uncommon occurrence; the alert was that the data was being collected at ‘Arrivals’ not ‘Departures’.
The Spider entered some more criteria into the ‘Stavro’ terminal and soon a credit card transaction came up in the same name as one of the passports. Namely one Mr. R Sterling. This American Express Centurion card had been in circulation for over one year, but its last transaction was to buy an airline ticket from Kansas to Mexico, on the same flight as Daisy Sinclair. Feeling more than a little smug, the Spider contacted Wallis.
As they left the airport, Bond noticed a small roadside bar called “Allo-Ha” the owner had a brightly painted Mini Moke parked outside, across the bonnet was the name ‘Mini Allo Ha Ha’ Bond smiled at the irony, but thought better than to point it out to Ornella

[volante]

Chapter Seven

Stillicide

The Hawaiian Islands are volcanic land masses which began to form more than 70 million years ago. Each island was created by one or more volcanoes that erupted on the sea floor and then emerged above the ocean's surface after countless eruptions.

Kaua’i is the oldest of the major Islands; it was formed over 5 million years ago from a single shield volcano that became deeply eroded with time. It is known as “The Garden Isle” because many areas are so green and lush.
Kaua’i is the least populated of all the major islands (only about 57,000 people live there) and nearly two thirds at any given time, are visitors/tourists.
There is so much about Kauai to love; The Mountains, the ocean, the flowers, the beaches, the wildlife, the culture, the sense of peace, the people. All of those things draw those visitors back time and time again.
Ornella read from the guide book left in the car “Kauai is a glorious place that everyone should have the opportunity to experience at least once in their life” She glanced out of the window “I cannot argue with that”
She looked over a Bond and asked in a mock child’s voice “Are you sure we don’t have time to relax and soak up the sun at Tunnels Beach, sit in the soft white sand and watch the waves roll in?”
Bond pushed her away playfully “Perhaps when this is over we could sip MaiTais on the lanai and watch the humpback whales”
For just one instant she thought he was serious. Dressed in his red Hawaiian shirt, and cream linen trousers he looked every inch the tourist, but then she remembered the urgency of their mission, she looked out of the window.
“I hope Chenko has taken the time differences into his seven day calculations, or we are already too late”
Bond glanced at his Omega “We still have four hours to find him” he said confidently. He looked at Ornella, her hair was freshly brushed and hung loose to her shoulders, which were exposed in the dress she had just had him buy her. It was white and cream, with a look of the Mexican tavern girls of an old Western film. Perhaps there would be time to enjoy, later.
“Put that down and check the map” He said. They continued along Route 580.
Opaeka'a Falls is a waterfall on the Wailua River in Wailua River State Park on the eastern side of the Island. A 151foot cascade flows over basalt from the volcanic eruptions millions of years ago. Below the ridge down into the ravine through which the water falls can be seen the vertical dikes of basalt that cut through the horizontal Koloa lava flows. The name "Opaeka'a" means rolling shrimp" 'opae" being Hawaiian for "shrimp," and "ka'a" for "rolling" Bond wondered if Chenko would have played any word games with its literal meaning.
The name dates back to days when the native freshwater shrimp were plentiful in the stream and were seen rolling and tumbling down the falls and into the churning waters at the fall's base.
At milepost 6 Bond followed the road inland for a further three miles. Route 580 is called Kuamo'o Road at this point and it is 1.5 miles to the Opaeka'a Falls parking area. The road went through a notch in the ridge that the Wailua River had eroded; and then they saw it. Visually, it was a spectacular waterfall one of the island's few waterfalls that can be seen from the road. Opaeka'a Falls flows all year round, most of the time it falls as a double cascade but the two sides can become one after a heavy rain fall, today the twin cascades were full and frothy. They pulled over into the parking area. Ornella went to the rail and marveled at the spectacular view of the 40-foot wide falls, its spray cooled the air as it hissed and crashed into the valley below. Ornella knew from the guide book that they were seeing the falls during best time. The full sunlight danced upon the water making it sparkle most brightly.
There are no tourist trails to either the top or the bottom of the waterfall from the Kuamo'o Road parking area.
Bond joined her at the rail and they exchanged a brief look of awe as they enjoyed the excellent view of the Falls. “Its beautiful” said Ornella “It is” replied Bond. With the tops of the Makeleha Mountains peeping through the valley to form a wonderful background they watched the many tropical birds as they soared through the valley below. The other tourists left the parking area and they set off quickly taking the path toward the bridge. At the far end of the bridge there were signs it every language explaining it was not possible to proceed down the steep valley to where the water cascaded into the pool. The trail had been blocked by a steel fence. Bond vaulted over the ‘Danger Keep Out Hazardous Conditions’ notice and forced the pace.
Ornella noticed that a trail already existed “Unofficially there is a path to the pool; it’s a so-called "secret trail" which was mentioned in my guide book”
"Well, anything that may look like a trail around here is not a lovers lane, so be careful".
Ornella continued “Violating that blockade” she motioned to the fence that they had jumped over, and with a mischievous smile “is considered a state misdemeanor with a fine of $1,000 and 30 days in jail” she stopped talking as Bond held his hand up.
Bond looked down at her into her dark eyes “I meant, be careful, look for traps set by Chenko” he pointed to the trail
The grass had definitely been worn down, and as they proceeded Bond indicated broken branches and dead plants.
“Something heavy has been brought through here” he noted. They followed the path down the valley. Bond’s hunter instinct continued to lead them to the bottom, where in the soft earth surrounding the large deep pool they identified shoe prints. The roar of the water cut out all other sounds. They continued carefully.
The sun had lost its heat down here close to the pool, its light forced its way through the foliage, and as the branches swayed the dappled light, moved and bounced.
Bond noticed that a piece of moss had been disturbed, probably a small rodent looking for insects, but the moss had come away in a large clump, revealing an electrical cable hidden beneath it. Carefully he scanned the tree closest to the path. The creeper vines that should have been stuck to the tree had been peeled away. Bond took a short branch and pushed the vine away. The thin cable had been pushed into the bark of the tree.
Ornella lent close to him and whispered “What is it?”
Bond felt her breath hot on his cheek “Early warning device”
Ornella dropped to her knees and crawled under the beam.
The camp was well disguised
Bond noticed a large hunting knife sticking out of the ground; he ignored the bait and went for the smaller gap. Ornella thought Bond had missed it and with a triumphant cough she lifted the weapon. For an instant she could not understand why he was looking at her the way he was, then the forest was alive with noise and rough hands clamped down on her shoulders and over her mouth, her arm went numb and she dropped to the ground. Bond resisted the urge to touch her knowing the electric charge would still have enough kick to shock him. He watched as Ornella jerked and shuddered in the soft earth, the electric shock pulsing through her body.
Somewhere up ahead a twig snapped, Bond dropped to the ground next to Ornella. He tried to judge how long he could wait before touching her, because once they were being observed any movement would result in their certain death. He decided the time was right and grabbed her hand, the electricity pulsed through his body, but at a much reduced level after only ten seconds he feigned unconsciousness without any pain.
The first soldier emerged from the undergrowth. Cautiously he came forward and kicked Bond in the kidneys, and it took all his resolve not to grunt. Then came the soft metallic beep of a walkie talkie and soon more boots were thudding through the undergrowth to their position, hands were on them and they were lifted and carried toward the camp.
In the tent, Chenko came through from the rear compartment. The lead soldier put the “Taser knife” on the table.
“Search them and restrain them, they will be coming around soon”
As the soldier began to feel Ornella’s body she made an involuntary movement which alerted the others, in the moments’ distraction Bond leapt into action. He brought his knee up into the first man’s groin then using his thumb stabbed at the second soldiers neck, in one smooth movement he kicked out at the third soldier and brought him to his knees, he brought his hand down in a traditional Karate chop and silenced all the guards, snatching up the Taser knife he rushed to Chenko’s side and span him into the middle of the space, before Chenko had time to react Bond had the knife to his throat.
In a strangled gasp he said “Bond, James Bond, so M took my request seriously, thank you for coming”
“Quite” Bond pushed him forward “I take it you will tell your men I’m on your side?”
“Of course, what about the girl, who is she?”
“She claims to be Russian Secret Service, I’m not sure of her motives, but she was instrumental in finding you”
Chenko glanced at his watch “Just in time as well, I was going to release the information tonight”
“Well, I’ve had a lot on”
“I expect Stasi will be close on your heels”
The three soldiers came around and gingerly got to their feet.
“Well if he’s as good as they say he is I suggest we don’t wait till he gets here” said Bond
It was then that the Early Warning alarm went off. Chenko barked out his instructions and the soldiers began to move to their posts
“Fight or flight?” asked Bond
“We wait Mr. Bond. Stasi works alone…” he gestured about him at his assembled body guard “…and he has my son, I really would like to talk to this man”
A second machine pistol sounded. The soldier in command looked at Chenko. Then the ground shook as a motor exploded close to the camp. Ornella was on her feet and she ran to Bond.
The command soldier looked up from the screen and spoke to Chenko “We are showing at least seven men”
“It’s not Stasi” said Chenko
“It’s Kassian” said Bond looking at the girl, and then he spoke to Chenko “Would Oliver Kassian have a reason in wanting to see you dead?”
“Oliver Kassian?” Chenko assimilated the information “He was an undercover agent fed into the American business channel, real name Kamil Basayev. I think he went ‘dark’ started taking the money for himself”
Ornella chipped in “Putin is trying to get him back into the fold”
Chenko looked at Bond “If I am ever elected President, that scum knows I would have him killed; yes I suppose it’s a good enough reason”
“Move, there must be another way back to the top” said Bond
Chenko confirmed “Yes, this way, quick Yuri, take point”
Yuri and the two other soldiers gathered up their AK-74s, the standard operations weapon for the majority of Spetsnaz soldiers. A small calibre 5.45mm gun packed with the force of an elephant.
Chenko buckled on a belt containing a 5.45mm PRI automatic pistol and a combat knife.
Bond had plenty of experience battling attackers with the specially designed ‘Spetsnaz troop’ knife.
The NR-2 an ingenious device which in addition to the blade incorporates a short 7.62mm calibre barrel in the handle and is fired by clipping the scabbard and knife together to give control when aiming. Quite when such a weapon would be used was open to conjecture, and many was the night Bond and his colleagues would while away the hours in the Brecon Beacons discussing the weapon’s merits.
The bullets ripped through the tent and those that hit any equipment ricocheted inside, tiny molten balls of death. Bond pulled Chenko and Ornella to the floor, carefully they slithered across the ground and went out through the slit that Yuri had cut in the back wall, once outside the onslaught did not stop, more heavy-machine gun fire from their left raked around them slicing through the undergrowth and lopping off branches of the trees.
Yuri, sent one of his men ahead and signalled for the second man to bring up the rear. Crawling forward they made their way back to the pathway. As a distinct aside to the noise of the heavy gunfire, Ornella’s dress ripped against a broken branch. She looked at Bond as if all this were his entire fault. “I’ll buy you a new one when we get out of here, now move” Using her elbows for purchase she slithered past him. Even with the mayhem of the gunfire Bond could not help but admire her athletic body as she crawled in front of him “Concentrate 007” he said to himself.
They waited in the bush for the last man to catch up, then Yuri gave more orders and they set off again. They ran quckly along the trail, there was no need for stealth; the sound of the falls obliterated the noise of their passing.
They made good progress along the bank and up the slope, then the path narrowed and got steeper, they cut through the rocks at turned in to go behind the water cascade, Bond saw the muzzle flash as the lead soldier dropped. Yuri signalled for the group to stop, but Bond had already pushed Chenko to the ground. Yuri nodded his approval of Bond’s swift action. It was the perfect place for an ambush; the narrow path with only a small amount of covering between them and the drop into the pool gave them the least amount of cover. To their right the rocks rose almost vertically. Chenko looked around as the rear soldier caught up with the group.
“Were trapped” said Chenko.
Bond spoke to Yuri “Give me a gun, I will go up and over”
“No, they will see you” He eluded to Bond’s bright shirt “Go back through the rocks, I will deal with our friend” The soldier led them back and Ornella followed, suddenly just as they were about to reach the safety of the rocks he fell backward into her, they never heard the gun shots that killed him, he twisted in his death throws and lent out into the abyss, but he had caught hold of her arm and Ornella felt the dead weight pulling her toward the edge, she slipped and began to fall forward. More bullets ricocheted off the rocks and Bond dived toward the edge in a desperate attempt to catch her before she followed him over the edge.
The dead soldier released his grip and fell silently into the waterfall, Ornella was sliding toward the edge, and she tried to hold on to the bushes and rocks as she slipped out over the edge of the path. The rock she was holding on to came away in her hand and she began to fall, her legs dangled over the abyss. Bond caught her by the wrist, but their momentum carried him to the very edge, Ornella could find no foot hold and dangled in the air. The spray of the falls soaked her. Bond held onto a small outcrop of rocks “Chenko” he shouted “Get me the gun” Chenko picked up the dead soldiers rifle and crawled out toward where Bond lay, he pushed the AK74 next to Bond’s hand “OK, now hold on to my leg. Brace yourself against the rock” Chenko got himself into position, Bond released his grip on the rock and took hold of the gun. Carefully he inched it forward and offered the barrel down toward Ornella. “Grab hold of it” he shouted above the roar of the water
Ornella looked up at Bond she was paralyzed by fear and could not let go of the tree route she desperately was clinging to, she shook her head. Bond looked down and deep into her eyes, willing her to trust him.
“Ornella, you have to let go of the root and take hold of the gun, I will pull you up” He nodded encouraging her, the ground erupted an inch from his hand as their attackers were positioning themselves ready for the kill. Bond looked down at her “Do it now”
Her foot slipped and her body swayed out she screamed. The water soaked her dress, dragging her down.
Bond felt her slipping from his grip “Ornella, its OK you can trust me, take hold of the gun”
In one almighty effort Ornella let go of the root and gripped the gun barrel. She used every last once of her strength, Bond began to pull her up, he shifted his weight and position “Chenko, pull me up” The Old Russian put his back into the work and took the strain; Bond began to inch back over the rocks’ the rough stones bit into his body. Bond saw the earth erupt again over to his left, the pursing unit were almost upon them, and were using exploratory fire to keep their prey undercover.
Bond pulled Ornella back over the edge, her hand was close to the rock he had been holding “Hold this, its safe” he said, her fingers clamped around the rock “Got it?” He asked. She nodded and Bond let go of her, he inched back again and adjusted his grip around her shoulder “Put your arm around my neck” she let go of the rock and held on to his neck, her arm was wet and she felt it slipping, he inched back again. Then he saw them. Two camouflaged soldiers were coming through the rocks; it would be only seconds until they saw him. “Ornella, let go of the gun”
“I can’t, I’ll fall, my arm is slipping ”
“I have you, now let go”
“I can’t” Her hand cupped his neck and her hand was numb.
Bond used his thumb to slip off the safety catch; to Ornella it was the loudest sound in the world, her eyes widened she knew he was going to shoot her.
Ornella closed her eyes “Ok James I trust you”
Ornella let go and her body swung out again, the soldiers saw the movement, and brought up their guns. With the AK74 free Bond brought the gun up and fired. Both men went down. Bond tightened his grip around Ornella’s shoulder.
Chenko heaved again and Bond felt his body gain purchase on solid ground, he pulled Ornella over the edge, they both got to their knees.
“Bond, look out” shouted Chenko
By instinct Bond fired into the gap again and another soldier fell back. They moved back against the rocks. Bond fired again. The AK 74 clicked on empty. “That’s a shame” Then there was movement to their right. Yuri came running into the rocks to support them firing into the gap “The coast is clear” he said “Now go; I will hold them here”
Bond grabbed Ornella and pushed Chenko forward; then he turned and made one affirmative nod of his head toward Yuri. The big Russian smiled, then turned and fired another burst. They ran through the spray and passed the dead gunman, Bond picked up his radio and they ran into the forest. They were almost at the barrier when the radio crackled into life
“This is Wallis. We just got another one, now just make sure they don’t get passed you, you hear me boy?”
Bond answered “You know, you should never send a boy to do a man’s work”
“What the… who is this?”
“The name’s Bond”
Wallis stopped in his tracks “Oh I can’t wait to meet you”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a bit pushed right now”
At the parking area Bond bundled Chenko into the back of the Toyota. He looked down at Ornella, her wet dress clinging seductively to her firm body “I really need to get you out of those wet clothes” She made a face and wiggled into the car.
Bond ran through the events in his mind, something was wrong, he needed to identify it and quickly. They had been attacked by at least ten men all with heavy weapons, and then it hit him. How had they been transported to the site? At the Parking area only the Toyota hire car was there. Bond turned the wheel and the car screeched off the main road and onto a dirt track, in less than twenty yards the trees had formed a canopy over them Bond stopped the car.
“What the hell…” Chenko began but the noise of the approaching helicopter stunned him into silence.
The CH-47 Chinook twin-engine, tandem rotor heavy-lift helicopter hovered thirty feet above the main road. Capable of 196 mph it was faster than most utility choppers and could give the attack helicopters a good run for their money. The perfect machine for deploying troops quickly into difficult to land terrain. Its wide loading ramp, rear of the fuselage was open and Bond could see the three external-cargo hooks, supporting the quick release harnesses. The Chinook slowly followed the road toward the Falls. Bond knew that once there the troops would be lifted back into its belly and the chase would be on again. Once it had passed from view Bond reversed the car onto the main road and sped off.
Even if they could reach the airport before they were overhauled, they would be sitting targets waiting for any kind of transport out, or worse they would be defenseless in any light aircraft that they could procure. To avoid any incident at the airport Kassian’s men could just wait until Chenko was in the air before shooting them down. Bond accelerated; he had an idea but knew this was going to be close.
The Chinook was coming fast, following the road. Bond waited until the very last moment and then gunned the engine. The Toyota screamed out from under the trees, straight as an arrow the car intersected the main airport road and headed directly for the terminal. The Chinook dropped and from the side door the big 50 cal mounted machine gun barked out it deadly fire. The bullets ripped up the road on a deadly path toward the car; the bullets ripped into the car, shattering the windscreen and smashing the engine block it hit a sign and the steering wheel span the car slewed and came to a stop.
The pilot brought the Chinook down about one hundred yards from the burning wreck. Once it was on the ground the rear flap opened, six men in the same camouflage uniforms as those Bond had seen at the falls ran out of the chopper, they formed a loose skirmish line and advanced toward the car. At that very moment James Bond drove the Mini Moke out from beneath the trees, he angled the car toward the Chinook and drove straight into the belly of the helicopter. Once inside Ornella hit the ramp button and it began to close. Before it was completely shut Bond had overpowered the pilot. The soldiers turned and ran back toward the Chinook, but the powerful twin rotors churned up the air and forced them to keep their heads down. Bond hauled back on the joy stick and lifted off.
Wallis watched in disbelief as the Chinook disappeared from view. Another soldier handed a mobile to him “Its Mr. Kassian, he wants an update” The airport security guards were coming across the wide expanse between the terminal and the group’s position, they were shouting for the men to put down their guns. Wallis took the mobile “Hi there Mr. Kassian, we had a small problem here, Bond has extracted Chenko and escaped in our helicopter.

[volante]

Chapter Eight

Vince

Leiter gave Bond the heading, and twenty minutes later they were sitting in a Zodiac speed boat en transfer to a US Coast Guard ship, the Chinook sinking gently to the ocean bed.
“Welcome aboard Commander Bond”
“Thank you Captain, I need to contact the CIA and then make a call to London can you show me to your communications room”
Felix Leiter was moving in slow jerky movements on the radio transmitted picture on the screen “We handed Mrs. Chenko and her daughter over to MI6, so they should be in one of your safe houses by now”
“Thanks Felix, I will pass the information on to Chenko”
“OK James you need to know the bad news. Oliver Kassian left the USA and was traced to the Russian embassy in Bulgaria; reliable sources confirm he has renewed his allegiance with the current Russian government”
“Well that should reduce the drugs trafficking in the States”
Bond took a drink of bourbon and waited for his next call. Bill Tanner’s face loomed large on the screen “Well done 007, the CIA have already updated us on your heroics”
Bond raised his glass in salute, Tanner continued “Its good news from this end too, Pavel Chenko has escaped and is en route to meet up with his Mother and sister at the safe house”
“How did he manage that? Do we know who had him?”
Tanner said “Details are sketchy, but it’s definitely him, guess all that Special Forces training paid off”
“Yes, something like that”
“OK James, I expect you are bushed. Have a good night’s rest, Vince and I will see you first thing in the morning”
‘Vince’ thought Bond then dismissed the name as unimportant “You can’t miss me Tanner; I’m on a big boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean”
HMS Invincible is a Royal Navy Anti-Submarine Warfare Carrier; she can cruise 7,000 nautical miles at 13 knots. Normally ‘Vince’ carries 700 personnel and 300 airmen, but as she was currently on sea trials, only 600 sailors and 100 airmen were billeted on board.
The carrier is armed with a number of defense systems. She has three Thales 30 mm Goalkeeper CIWS and two Oerlikon 20 mm cannons. Counter intelligence measures are provided by the Thales jamming and ECM system; Sea-gnat launchers provide for chaff or flare decoys.
The carrier's attack systems center on the air group, this comprises of nine Royal Air Force Harrier GR7s and twelve Sea Kings, either anti-submarine warfare (ASW) or Airborne Early Warning (AEW) variants. The carrier also provides an operational headquarters for the Royal Navy task force. The runway is 170 m long and includes the characteristic "ski jump"
After breakfast Bond, Ornella and Chenko were transferred from the Coast Guard to British aircraft carrier.
Beside the naval personnel on board a government delegation led by The Foreign secretary had taken up residence. MI6 were represented by M with her Chief of Staff, Bill Tanner and her personal secretary, Miss Moneypenny.
In a well apportioned operations room the Government delegation prepared for its meeting with Vladimir Chenko.
Bond tagged on at the end of the procession to enter the room, but the two Royal Marines on the door refused him and Ornella access.
“Name sir?”
“Bond, James Bond”
“Sorry sir that name’s not on the list”
Moneypenny popped her head out of the conference room. She looked resplendent in her crisp Second Officer uniform
“It’s quite alright Sergeant, I can vouch for these people”
The marines stood aside and Bond and Ornella went in
Bond lent close to her ear “Monypenny, you are the best”
She looked up at him “In ways you’ve yet to know, James”
Bond and Ornella sat quietly at the back. The Foreign Secretary opened the meeting “International Tensions between the UK and Russia are rising” Bond watched for M’s reaction, she confirmed without uttering a word that his opening sentence was probably the World’s biggest understatement. “M can you give us the details?”
M stood up “The war in Georgia has escalated after Russian jets reportedly bombed a vital pipeline that supplies oil to the West. Georgian leaders claimed that the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline, which transports oil from the Caspian Sea to Turkey, was attacked. But it is thought the bombs missed their target”
The FS interjected “A warning shot across our bows”
M continued “An ultimatum has been given. Either we release Mr. Chenko or Britain’s gas and oil supply will be shut off from the Russian fields”
The Foreign Secretary addressed the room and said “We cannot give in to blackmail, Mr. Chenko is free to leave, and they know it”
M replied “I’m sorry Minister; this clearly shows that Russia has targeted not just the Georgian economic outlets but international economic outlets as well”
Tanner added the detail “The pipeline is 30 per cent owned by BP and supplies 1 per cent of the world’s oil needs, pumping up to a million barrels of crude per day into Turkey”
The FS added “President Bush leads the West in intensifying pressure on Russia to halt the bombing in Georgia, as of last night, America and Russia are edging closer to full-scale war over Russia’s conflicting claims for disputed territory. If we can ease those tensions by adhering to their request for Mr. Chenko to return, we hope to avert a war.
M replied “But Minister, Mr. Chenko’s life is in danger if he returns. The American’s have offered support, but I feel we cannot allow this to escalate to the Americans, or we will have a full scale World war before dinner”
Chenko lent forward in his chair “I can help” the room fell silent “Arrange a video conference with General Beria of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation. I can assure you I will be able to put a stop to this crisis with just one conference call”
In hushed tones the FS spoke with M, but it was Chanko that got the meeting focused again “I know where the bodies are buried; with the backing of the Army I can stop Medyev and I can destroy Putin”
Within the hour Chenko sat alone in the small screening cabin the screen turned from black to a static which cleared to reveal a sparsely furnished cell, this was not General Beria’s office. Chenko was confused, he had expected to see his old colleague General Beria sitting at his expensive desk, then as he focused on the dark room he stared in horror as he recognised his daughter alone in the room.
Sascha was in obvious distress, she passed up and down the small cell
Chenko spoke into the microphone “Sascha, can you here me?” there was no reply
The screen changed and there sitting in a darkened office was Oliver Kassian, he was wearing an Colonel’s uniform. “Comrade Chenko, thank goodness I have found you. In my new official capacity” he gestured to his insignia, which seemed at odds with his broad American accent “I have been made responsible for negotiating your release from the capitalist British government and returning you to your home and family”
Chenko was beside himself with fear and confusion “Where is my daughter?” he could not fathom out how Kassian had a video link into the MI6 safe-house
Kassian lent forward, the lighting making his hair appear darker than ever, in mock confusion he pointed at an imaginary TV screen, then slowly began to nod, as if he had just understood Chenko’s question, he smiled broadly and spoke slowly so that his American accent was extenuated “I’m sorry comrade. I thought you knew that one of our most trusted and skilled agents, he goes by the name of Stasi; followed your son Pavel when he escaped from the British all the way to an MI6 safe house. Please do not concern yourself comrade we have all your family” The smile ended abruptly, and a look of concern came over his face, he spoke as if they were the only two people in the World to know the truth.
“Stasi wants to hurt them, hurt them bad” he nodded and widened his eyes as if to declare himself powerless to stop the proposed action.
Then came the smile “But they are here waiting for you at the Tuyakbay pumping station. Now of course this must be our little secret, tell no one. Come home, come back to Russia, allow the Government to step in and help your company, retire from politics, and you and your family will be free to enjoy a more than generous state pension”
Chenko felt the fight go out of him
“Come home comrade and come alone; no on second thoughts bring the girl with you” The camera zoomed in on his smiling face
“Now be a good Father and ask the Foreign Secretary and M to join us”
The Foreign secretary, M, Tanner and Ornella joined Chenko in the small room; now however the screen was showing a more acceptable vision.
General Beria sat impassively in a well equipped office he bowed his head as M and the Foreign Secretary sat down “Foreign Secretary thank you for joining us. Comrade Chenko and I have spoken at great length; we have come to a compromise. I hope I have your attention because I’m only going to say this once. The Russian government is about to Close down the oil and gas pipelines into Western Europe. As far as the world will be concerned the oil and gas will be withdrawn from Western Europe as the consequence of a failed attack on the Tuyakbay pumping station in Kazakhstan by British Special Forces
“That’s preposterous” said the Foreign Secretary
Beria continued as if the interruption had never happened “The Russian government demand that Chenko must be released and allowed to return to Russia, Mr. Chenko will allow the Government to take over his company. No harm will come to him, and your power supply will be safe for another twenty years”
“I must remind you that Mr. Chenko sought help from the British Secret Service, he is here of his own free will. In fact he was assisted in escaping from a Russian assassination squad by MI6”
Beria ignored the outburst and asked “Comrade Chenko are you willing to return to Russia and stop all this nonsense”
“Yes I am” Chenko’s voice was small and hollow.
“What on earth?” The FS began to remonstrate, but Chenko held up his hands
“Listen to me, If I go back now, the Russians will allow you to keep your oil and gas concessions”
“But it will mean money becoming available for arms for a World war”
Chenko argued “No, they only need the funds to bring back the satellite countries under their control”
The FS shook his head “America will act, they will give support to the countries under threat, it will mean war”
Chenko spoke calmly “No, America will do nothing, with Kassian out of their jurisdiction; they will take the opportunity to get their own house in order, sort out their financial problems”
General Beria concurred “Comrade Chenko is correct”
Chenko turned to Ornella “Beria is a good man, he’s your commanding officer, would you accompany me? I will feel safer if you are with me”
Ornella “I would be honoured”
Chenko stood up bowed and left the room
Beria spoke to M “Please see to it that comrade Chenko is delivered safely to Astana”
The screen went blank, M turned to Tanner “Get Bond”
The screens behind Beria slid to the side revealing a larger room, Kassian applauded the General and put his arm around Beria’s shoulder “When the pumping station is blown up Chenko and his family will all die we will blame it on the Americans and the British”
Beria nodded “Then we will increase the price, and start to squeeze their banks, foreclose on the loans they have so foolishly taken out to support their greedy habits”
Kassian looked around the operations room “Wow, I thought hooking people into drugs was a buzz, but we are going to bankrupt the whole of the Western civilisation”
Beria extracted himself from Kassian’s grip “Blow up one small insignificant pumping station, and bring down the capitalists”
Kassian “Boom and bust”

Out on deck Bond joined M, she lent against the rail “What do you think this is really about, Bond”
“It’s about Russia flexing its political muscle, re-establishing itself as a World Superpower”
“Has Chenko been playing us for fools?”
“I don’t think so”
“All this started with him coming to us”
“No, it started before that”
M looked at him; it was a signal for him to continue
“It started when MI6 were tipped off about the Kassian drugs pipeline”
“Go on”
“Supposing Russia wanted to divert our attention, get us looking in the wrong direction. We were given information that put our agents on high alert worldwide, kept them busy for a long time. Even when we shared the information, the CIA were reluctant to offer more than token assistance. They didn’t even advise the FBI that we would be going after Kassian on their turf”
“To what end, Bond?”
“Our actions brought down or at least brought Kassian down to earth. Soften him up so he went crawling back to Moscow. It would have been in both counties interests to do that. Russia gets her man back, we know from what Ornella told us, that’s what they wanted, and America would be rid of him”
M said “Same with Chenko, try to kill him, kidnap his family”
“No” said Bond “I think they see Chenko as a real threat to their plans, I believe the contract is real, I think they will kill him when he returns to Russia. Only then can they execute their plan”
“So Chenko is walking into a trap?”
“Yes, they could take his company and pension him off without having him there physically”
“They need him there, but why?” M looked out to sea
Bond gripped the rail “And Kassian, they need him there as well”
M said “Beria said that the reason for withdrawing our oil would be reported as a failed attempt to destroy the Tuyakbay pumping station, blaming it on us”
Bond continued the idea “But with Kassian and Chenko present the Russians could destroy the station and blame the action on the Americans as well”
“Kassian is seen as the great American business man, Chenko is the biggest capitalist in Russia” M looked truly terrified “I believe they mean to actually destroy the pumping station”
Bond asked if the Tuyakbay pumping station were destroyed and blamed on America, How would the Russians use it to their advantage?”
“Would it be reason enough to go to war? What are we missing, Bond. What is their plan?”
“Well Chenko does not think its about going to war so whatever it is both Chenko and Ornella will need protecting when they get to Kazakhstan, and someone needs to stop Kassian blowing it all up, whether he knows about it or not”
“I agree, Bond I want you to go to Astana with Chenko and Ornella and stop Kassian from destroying the pumping station”
“With pleasure”

[volante]

Chapter Nine

Astana

The futuristic city of Astana is located in the northern-central region of Kazakhstan. Astana became the country’s capital when the administration was officially moved in 1997 and today many construction works are still under way, developing the city into a modern wonder of the modern World. It is said that the embassy buildings by the Ishim River will be architectural icons for future generations. The Avenue of the Republic acts as the main hub of activity, bordered by stores, coffee houses, restaurants, discotheques and even some casinos.
Astana can be divided into quarters. North of the railway, which crosses Astana in an east-west direction, is the industrial area, and standing in a blaze of aluminum glory on the East Shukhov highway is the prestigious Tuyakbay pumping station. The station is of immense importance to the area as it serves to transport both Oil (underground) and Gas (over-ground) from the natural fields of Russia through the Steppe on to Western Europe. At the heart of the station is the SCADA system which sits three floors below ground level in the Main Control Room. The system receives data and presents it to the pipeline operators through a set of Human Machine Interfaces. Decisions can then be made to prioritize actions on the maintenance of the pipelines. The operators monitor the hydraulic conditions of the line, as well as sending commands to open or close the valves, or turn on or off any of the compressors or pumps; the operators can also change set-points to reduce or stop the supply.
To optimize and secure the operation of these assets, Advanced Pipeline Applications software is installed on top of the SCADA system, this provides an extended functionality to perform leak detection, batch tracking, pig tracking, composition tracking, predictive modeling and more.
At any one time an operational shift comprises of two operators and three technicians. Security is provided by the 2nd Squad of the 17th Army core, between 40 and 60 soldiers are stationed three kilometers away at the Sageyev barracks, which all traffic must come through to reach the station.
Most of Kazakhstan's military was inherited from the Soviet Armed Forces Turkestan Military District. So today was a special day, for the Russian soldiers stationed at Tuyakbay.
General Otiumin Beria was paying a visit to the pumping station; an important secret meeting was taking place over the next couple of days. Beria arrived at ten in the morning; his personal guard consisted of just six commandos in full battle gear. The soldiers on guard were mightily impressed.
Once inside the complex, two of the General’s commando took up position on the ground floor. Beria took the remaining four with him to the Control Room, here General Beria explained to the Operators that the purpose of the meeting was to exchange prisoners. “When they arrive, you will all be asked to leave, and wait at the barracks” One of the commandos went with a technician to determine which rooms could be suitable to hold the Russians prisoners who were going to be exchanged. The recreational area on the 1st lower level could be made secure, but it would mean that the prisoners could not be separated, the commando was momentarily sidetracked as he appeared to be mesmerised by two large tropical fish tanks that were inset in the entrance. The fish appeared to have free reign from floor to ceiling, and the commando inclined his head and watched the many examples of tropical fish swimming. The technician watched animatedly until the man turned toward him, shook his head and indicated they should continue. The only rooms that were suitable were the sleeping accommodation on the ground floor; the rest of the shift was taken up by the technicians boarding up the windows and removing the furniture.
The prisoners arrived hooded and chained; the two figures were escorted inside the building by the commandoes and placed in separate cells. One man remained at the end of the corridor, while the other went to report back.
“Ok, phase one complete” Beria relaxed in an office with his commandoes; in the privacy of the room one by one they removed their helmets and hoods. Wallis let out a long sigh and shook his head at the relief; the next three men joined him, all veterans of the Hawaiian campaign. Then the last man removed his hood, Kassian stood in the centre of the room. “Now we wait”
Sascha had been alone in her cell since she arrived, the windows had been blocked so that only a tiny amount of sunlight had been available during the day, but now as night drew in the room was cloaked in total darkness. She clutched at the thin material of her cover all and pulled it close to her throat, then she tried her mobile again but the tiny screen repeated what it had ever since she had been taken from the last safe-house, ‘no signal’. Sascha felt her situation was hopeless. Fatigue had drained her body and now, wearily she felt for and sat on the small narrow bed against the wall. She was so tired that were it not for her sobs she would have fallen asleep.
The key turning in the lock brought her back to reality. With an eerie groan the door opened, but the passageway beyond the door was in nearly as much darkness as the cell. Suddenly the door slammed closed making her jump.
But the key did not turn. Her heart pounded, the door was unlocked. Slowly and tentatively she got to her feet and felt her way along the wall to the door, she groped for the handle and ever so slowly turned it, the door gave and slowly Sascha pulled it open. The corridor was now in total darkness.
‘My mobile’ she said to herself, carefully she withdrew it from her pocket and pressed a button, the misty blue light it gave off was enough for her to get her bearings in the corridor, she let one hand trail along the smooth wall as she crept alone the dark passageway, then the light went out, she brought the mobile close to her face and pressed the button again, the pale blue glow illuminated the corridor again, but what Sascha did not see was that behind her wearing night vision goggles was Stasi.
Slowly she continued along the corridor, was she looking for her Mother? Or was she looking for a way to escape? She didn’t know, she felt the panic grip her, she felt lost, and then the light went out again. In the pitch black she listened to her own emotionally charged breathing, and then she felt another breath lightly lift the hairs on the back of her neck. She began to sob, her body trembled. Her fingers shook uncontrollably as she turned on the light again. Stasi was standing right behind her; lightly he placed his hands on her shoulders “Hello pretty”

The delegation had been at Tuyakbay a full 24 hours when Chenko and Ornella arrived; the black official government car was allowed through the barracks and drove slowly toward the Station.
The commando at the end of the corridor stepped forward and without a word led them down to the control room, Beria made a lavish show of welcome, then took them into his office “Welcome home Vladimir, can I get you a drink?”
Chenko ignored the facade “Where are they?”
Beria gestured to the commando. The hooded man nodded and then said “Follow me” Chenko left the room
Beria took a good hard look at Ornella “You look beautiful, my dear, I am so pleased to see you again, and I ‘m not alone in saying that” The door opened, Ornella turned at the noise, two commandoes rushed forward and took hold of her arms, and then Kassian entered the room “Ornella”
She struggled against the guards but they were too strong for her. As Kassian approached she sensed the malevolence in his movement, Kassian slapped her face, and the noise seemed to echo around the room “I promised myself I would do that, now remind me what else did I promise you could to look forward to?” Kassian began to nod as if remembering; deliberately he took the knife from his belt.
“Do you know what this is?” and he pointed to a cylindrical drum “Of course you don’t, it’s a bomb a small thermo nuclear bomb, now sit on it”
The guards, pushed her down onto the metal case, with ease they handcuffed Ornella to the device. Kassian gently opened her jacket and put the point of the blade against her breast.
“I believe it is time for me to leave” Beria interrupted the scene. With haste he left the room and spoke with the operators and technicians.
Kassian knew he would have to go with him and that his pleasure would have to wait, he lent close to Orella’s ear “Have patience, you will soon feel the kiss of my blade”
Quickly Ornella tried to bite him, but Kassian moved his face out of the way just in time. “That’s right, make it harder on yourself” without pause he brought his left hand over and hit her backhanded across the face. She tasted the blood.
Chenko and the masked commando exited the lift and “There” the commando said.
Chenko continued down the corridor. As he went into the recreational area his vision was drawn to the large glass plated aquarium. The tiny fish darted left and right but their beauty was eclipsed by a large grey item that hung lifeless in the water.
“Leila, oh my God” Chenko dropped to his knees his hands reaching out to touch the glass. He began to cry. Then a feeling of dread overcame him, slowly he turned his head, the commando stood motionless where he had left him, Chenko continued to rotate his head, and there in a limpid state of death was Sascha. She had sunk to the bottom of the tank and looked blankly at him. Chenko screamed and fell to the floor.
Between sobs Chenko mumbled “Why?”
The commando spoke “I have it on film”
It took Cheko a few moments before the man’s words registered in his brain “What are you saying?”
Chenko wiped his eyes and turned around as the commando took off his hood the deep blue eyes of Stasi stared back at him, very deliberately he pointed his pistol at him.
“Pavel” said Chenko “what is happening?” he stumbled to his feet and fell toward his son
Stasi answered “I said, I have their deaths on film”
Chenko stopped dead in his tracks “You did this?”
Stasi raised his dark eyebrows and nodded
“If you want to see who drown first”
Unable to move Chenko felt the despair raise up and choke him, he tried to make sense of what had happened and what his son was telling him, when the awful truth hit him he felt he would feint “Stasi?” he croaked
Chenko lunged at him but Stasi extended the gun, Chenko stopped “You would kill your own father as well?”
“No, not here. It needs to be in front of witnesses so I can claim my contract” Chenko turned around and looked at the bodies of his wife and daughter as they hung suspended in the water.
The official car took Beria away from the station, and the Tuyakbay staff left in the van.
Kassian returned to the room “Alone at last”
“Go to hell” Ornella spat at him
Kassian drew in a long breath “I said I would cut you and watch you bleed” he withdrew the knife from its scabbard, slowly he approached her. Kassian put the tip of the blade against her breast and started to push. Ornella felt her skin split and the blade started to cut her.
The intruder alarm activated on the main screen.
James Bond dropped through the inspection hatch landing lightly on his feet; he scanned the room before him. Without taking his eyes off the door he un-slung the canvas bag from his shoulder and opened it, pulling out a suppressed MP5 Heckler and Koch machine pistol. Bond held the gun aloft and set off to find Kassian.
Quickly he descended the metal steps to the second lower level. As he began to traverse the hall way the door above him opened, Bond slid in beneath the steps, and slowly a black booted figure came into view, as he came down the steps Bond could see he was heavily armed in full battle gear. Four steps from the bottom he paused, Bond reached through and grabbed his ankle, the man moved and tripped, falling forward, he landed badly, but his body armour saved him from injury, Bond came out and attacked, the man was almost on his feet when Bond aimed a vicious kick to his head, it connected and sent him sprawling against the far wall. The man was crumpled against the wall and showed little vulnerability between his armoured plates. The man jumped up, he began to bring his machine pistol to bear. Bond met his lunge and thrust the Heckler into his mouth. The gun whispered death and the man fell back.
In the sudden silence his radio burst into life, the voice was unmistakeably Wallis “Keep your eyes peeled boy, the intruder alarm just went off in your area, It will be Bond”
Bond picked up the radio and answered it “What is your obsession with boys?”
Wallis turned to Kassian, “Its Bond”
Without undue haste Kassian took the radio “I don’t remember inviting you. Where are you Mr. Bond? I will send someone to collect you”
Bond continued down the corridor “Don’t trouble yourself Kassian, I will be coming to get you soon enough”
“Promises promises, I’m not hiding Mr. Bond I’m in the command centre lower level three. Tell you what I’ll do, I’ll send Ornella out to meet you. What do you say, nice friendly face” he held the radio close to her mouth “Say Hi to Mr. Bond”
Ornella spoke through her swollen lips “Kassian plus 5 men”
Kassian pulled the radio away “You little tell tale, better tell him what else I have, it should stop any heroics”
“James, I’m sitting on a small thermo nuclear device”
Bond rounded the next corner, covering the angle with the gun “I know, I always thought you were cute”
Kassian snatched the radio from her “Very droll Mr. Bond, Ornella is just dying to see you again”
Bond, searched the rooms as he progressed then went through the double doors and down the metal steps through the stairwell and turned the corner and there in the middle of the next corridor stood Ornella, strapped to her body was a series of tubes, Ornella was covered in explosives.
Bond’s radio crackled into life “Is she there yet? can you see her? Can you see my little Shahidka?”
“OK Kassian what do you want?” Bond was trying to stall and play to Kassian’s ego as he frantically thought of how to diffuse the human bomb. He put down the heckler and Koch and went to her, kissing her lightly on the cheek
Kassian’s voice came through, still sounding calm and in control “What do I want? I want to kill you, I want to make you suffer for all the problems you caused me, all the money you cost me”
Bond checked the tubes of explosives and spoke into the radio “Then let’s talk about it man to man”
“Who is in there with Kassian?” he whispered to Ornella
“Wallis and two others; another of his team is with Chenko”
“What about General Beria?”
“He has gone, all the Russians have gone, Kassian has control and he has a nuclear bomb”
“Beria didn’t they take Chenko?”
“No, he was taken to find his family; they are on the ground floor”
Kassian stopped laughing “Please Mr. Bond. If your next line is ‘Just let the girl go’ I will detonate the bitch here and now. Just come in nice and quite”
Bond thought through the situation, as his hands and brain worked on the detonating device “Well if you want to kill me, now is as good a time, because if you don’t do it now I will kill you, if the Russians don’t do it first” Ornella looked at him as if he had lost his mind
Kassian continued in his arrogant tone “I am one of the Russians Bond, don’t you pay attention to anything?”
There were two wires, one black one red, one was the dummy and therefore the detonator the other was the kill switch “All the Russians have gone, Kassian, only your team here now”
“Chenko is still here, Bond” Kassian said
Bond traced the wires from each of the explosives to a small junction box at her waist “I know, but I guess he is to be killed as well; then they can market him as the political dissident at the scene of the crime”
“My men will kill Chenko; and General Beria is returning with some dead Americans and some dead brits, but we will find a space for you”
Now it was Bond’s turn to laugh “No, you haven’t worked it out yet have you Kassian; you are one of the American’s whose recognisable body will be displayed along with your ex marine buddy and your troop of international mercenaries”
Kassian began shaking his finger at the radio, his whole body shook in denial “We are the one’s planting the explosives now and you will be the one here when they go off Mr. British Secret Agent”
“Look Kassian, I know you are not the sharpest tool in the box but if you are going to blow me up why not do it right now”
Stasi came into the control centre; he saw Kassian in what he felt was a rage. The place was a shambles; the bomb had not yet been connected to the detention device.
Kassian turned to Stasi “If I blast them now how much of them will be left to show to the TV stations”
“What have you got on her?”
“Ten 100mm tubes of Mercury fulminate”
Stasi began to assemble the equipment needed to complete the arming devise “Chemical decomposition may take years or a fraction of a second. The slower processes are of interest only from a stability standpoint”
Kassian held up the radio pushing for an answer “The rapid form of decomposition is detonation” carefully he stripped back a wire with his knife “That term is used to describe an explosive phenomenon whereby the decomposition is propagated by the explosive shockwave traversing the explosive material. The shockwave front is capable of passing through the high explosive material at great speeds, typically thousands of meters per second”
Kassian “Will they be recognizable?”
“It will be messy but they could identify them by their dental records” Stasi began to connect the two devices together, he worked calmly without distraction
“” Kassian said privately and then he turned on the radio for Bond to hear. He spoke with full bravado “Mr. Wallis will you please go down there and shoot Mr. Bond, oh and Wallis shoot him through the heart; I want his head in one piece”
Stasi spoke with contempt “You really should be more sensible with my explosives”
Kassian was shocked by the words, beside him this evil callas warped killer was reprimanding him “Yeah?”
Wallis spoke into his radio “Say your prayers Boy I’m coming to rip your heart out”
Bond replied “That’s not very nice”
As he left the control centre he affirmed “Yeah Kassian wants your head in one piece”
Stasi finished the connection. His eyes bored deeply into Kassians’ “Yes, sending the girl out there was dumb, from now on you take your orders from me”
Kassian “Is that right? Now YOU get Beria on the radio and You tell him to bring in the dead SAS”
Stasi looked at Kassian with such contempt that his usually pale face began to colour. Stasi inclined his head “Why would the General want to come back here?” He laughed; shaking his head as he turned away he said quietly “You really are dumb aren’t you”
In that moment Kassian realised he had been set up. The approach from Moscow; the offer of his commission, the promise of untold glory from this mission. The Kremlin had played him for a fool.
Kassian snapped, the fears he had suppressed deep down since hi childhood came flooding to the surface. They had underestimated him, treated him like a fool because of his size, because of his soft features. “Dumb, I’ll show you dumb” Kassian pressed the detonator, and the explosives detonated, the tremors hit them and the alarms sounded.
Stasi went to the intercom to close down the alarms and assure the Army that there was no need for them to come back, Kassian nodded to the other guards in the room; deliberately they pulled out their silenced automatics. In one fluid movement Stasi turned and shot both men, it did not interrupt his conversation with the Military guard on the other end of the telephone.
Stasi looked at Kassian “Now there is no need to trouble the General They will be good examples of SAS”

Wallis heard the alarms followed by two shots, he turned around and ran back to the control room “What the…”
The alarms stopped. Stasi flicked off the communication switch “There, now we won’t be interrupted”
Kassian turned to Wallis “Kill him”
Stasi turned and fired again, but he shot only embedded itself into Wallis’s body armour.
Calmly Oliver Kassian left the room.
Stasi extended his arm and released his flick knife. Wallis stood between him and the door “Well boy, looks like we got ourselves a situation”
Bond and Ornella shook the dust and debris from their hair “I told you that look wasn’t for you” Ornella kissed him. Bond held her shoulders “Ornella, I want you to find Chenko and get him and his family out of here, I’m going for Kassian”
Ornella had to run along the corridor to a second stairway, (the explosion had demolished the closest exit) as she went up the first step she saw the blood, a great swath of it against the wall. The metal steps were dotted in more liquid globules; she picked her way up the steps.
On the top landing a bloody hand print stood in testimony and the door handle was smeared in the same way. Gently she pushed the door open. In the large entrance hall surrounded by paintings of unknown national heroes she saw the reason for the morbid decoration.
Wallis the bigoted American from the Deep South was fighting with another man, her hatred of the big American came flooding back, now here he was attacking another defenceless victim. She looked for a weapon of any kind to assist the smaller man but then she noticed the smaller man was fighting back. It was Wallis that was coated in blood, his big hunting knife slashed through the air with a swish, but the smaller man ducked and came in underneath, using his own smaller blade to slice another red gash into Wallis’s body. Wallis fell back into an ornamental tree, and the smaller man, his dark hair flowing, his dark eyes wild with moment jumped on him. The rush of breath and the grunts topped and the small man emerged, he stood looking down at his victim, then he became aware of the other presence, his head snapped up and he saw Ornella,
“You must be Ornella Koznakova, my Father has spoken about you” Stasi withdrew Wallis’s gun, and handed it to her “Come on, I think we should get out of here” but then he stopped, he had noticed the two blooms of blood on her blouse, from where the blade had cut her, is fingers reached for her breast, but stopped short of touching her. He looked into her dark eyes and wondered how she had taken the pain.
His deep blue eyes softened and he allowed himself just a moment to imagine what it would be like, to kill her.
Ornella accepted this strange man as the Russian Special Service Captain and son of Vlad Chenko “Where is your Father?”
Stasi caught her eye, he held her within his stare “He is dead”
Ornella tried to ask the next logical question but his eyes seem to hold her under a spell then he spoke again “All my family are dead” he held out his hand and touched the blood stains “You’re hurt”.
“It’s nothing”
Come, we should leave here, now”
“Wait, I have a friend still down there, he is going to disarm the bomb”
He held her hand and spoke to the child within her “Can you help him? Do you know how to defuse it?
Ornella shook her head “No”
“Come on let’s get out of here” She wanted so badly to trust him, she wanted to escape this nightmare with this strong handsome man, Pavel Chenko, but something was not right. She stopped. He took her hand and looked into her eyes, Ornella saw the beauty in the deep blue, but then as if recognising the subject of an abstract painting she saw something else in those deep fathomless eyes.

When she was a child, and again when she was a teacher, Ornella remembered the old tale of never going anywhere with a stranger.
“No matter what the stranger says?” the voice came back at her
“That’s right, the stranger may say he is going to take you to see you’re Mother, to see some puppy dogs” Ornella reassured the children in her class. “But you must never go”
The little girl put her hand up and asked “How will I know if the stranger wants to hurt me?”
Ornella looked at the children in her class and said
“You will know, you will know”
And now as she looked into Stasi’s eyes, she knew.

[volante]

Chapter Ten

Sloika

Bond entered the control room. He rushed over and appraised the bomb. The face panel showed seven minutes to detonation. Bond dialled in the emergency code to London.
Tanner answered Bond’s call “Hello James…”
“…Tanner, quickly I need someone that can talk me through disabling an atomic bomb” Bond put his mobile onto speaker phone and lay it next to the detonator.
“Pay attention 007, can I see the device please” Bond recognised the bird like twittering of Q. Bond picked up the mobile and began broadcasting the video feed.
“Mmmm. Five minutes. OK 007 let’s see what we can do”
The door burst open and Bond swung around aiming the MP5, Ornella ran across the room and threw her arms around his neck “James” It was all she needed to say.
“I might have known it, please 007, PAY ATTENTION”
Bond whispered to Ornella “Won’t keep you a minute”
“Four minutes actually 007 now remove the glass cover. You will see two screws, undo them”
Bond set about the task, with three minutes remaining Bond spoke “It’s free”
“Show me” said Q. Bond held the mobile over the detonator
Q was muttering to himself “Tricky little piece”
“Are you still referring to the bomb, Q?”
Q ignored the sarcasm “There are three options, the first is the most effective but it’s difficult as it means using a high-powered explosive-actuated device to shear the firing train”
Ornella’s face mirrored Bond’s “And the second?”
“Simple, replace the primary safety feature”
“I’ll need some more some detail”
Q responded “unscrew the fuse locking ring, remove the fuse from its pocket in the side of the bomb and unscrew the ‘gaine’ but be careful if it is fitted with a ZS 40 underneath type 17 fuse the render-safe process is much more complicated and dangerous. Removing the main time-delay fuse from its fuse pocket without neutralizing the anti-handling device underneath would automatically release the cocked firing pin inside the ZS 40, which will then flip forward and strike the percussion cap, causing detonation of the bomb and the death of anyone beside it. Show me the fuse locking ring on the device; I need to know if it has an anti handling device”
Bond held the phone over the thermo nuclear casing; but his hopes sank, there was an area which was covered in putty like substance
“Oh” said Q “That’s a shame, they have clogged up the safety port”
The face panel countdown read 00:02:00sec
Q spoke “very well 007, now this isn’t the most satisfactory way of disabling the device, because it will still be live, but you could remove the accelerator. Pull out the blue fuse from the left side, and then cut the blue wire at least one inch from the detonator”
Bond carefully pulled the blue fuse away from its housing.
“Scissors? Knife?” Bond asked Ornella. She put down the gun on the desk and frantically began to look.
“Allow me” Stasi released the three inch blade from his flick knife. Bond reached for the MP5
Ornella took in the scene “This is Chenko’s son, Pavel”
Stasi reached Bond who held out the detonator, it read
00:01:32sec
Stasi thrust the knife forward, Bond lent back but the blade cut him across the chest. Stasi drove forward again, slashing down, Bond used the detonator to block the strike, but the knife sliced into his arm.
Bond kicked out and caught him in the groin, dropping the detonator he brought both hands down in a double strike onto the collar bones, followed by a left palm heal to the man’s jaw. Stasi dropped back and fired a side stamping kick to Bond’s knee, Bond allowed the kick to give momentum to his leg and he dropped with his full weight onto Stasi’s leg, both men went down. Bond tried to get a choke hold on him but Stasi blocked him and rolled out, they stood facing each other.
00:01:12sec
Ornella attacked Stasi from behind. Without turning he countered with a vicious back kick that sent her over against the desk. Bond attacked feigning left he struck with a right to the ribs, Stasi slashed across with the knife to halt a second attack, but as his hand was across his body Bond stepped in and grabbed his wrist, his fingers clamped over the knife hand, and he twisted back and up, forcing the arm against the joint. Face to face Bond butted Stasi and the momentum took Bond another step forward, he twisted inside, and Stasi’s body had no choice but to follow gravity and spin to the floor.
00:00:59sec
Bond brought Stasi’s knife arm back over his thigh. In a reflex action Stasi’s hand opened and the knife slipped to the floor.
00:00:54sec
“Ornella, cut the wire” Bond gestured to the knife and detonator. Ornella crawled over, but as she got level with Bond, Stasi kicked out of the hold, it was a desperate move, because his arm broke against the joint and his scream was unearthly, but he grasped the knife and rolled over on top of Ornella, pressing the blade against her throat
00:00:50sec
“They don’t pay you enough Mr. Bond” Stasi wriggled and moved his body into a sick parody of lovemaking.
“Its not about money, it’s about loyalty, and being true to your own beliefs” Bond was just out of reach, he new he had no chance to attack. Ornella looked up at him.
“…No” Stasi cut in “Money is what buys loyalty, the contract is everything, without offer, consideration and acceptance the World would fall into chaos, without money, to kill would be a barbaric act of murder”
“Well you would know all about that, Stasi”

“Ha, the American girl, that wasn’t barbaric, it was beautiful”
00:00:20sec

“Kill him, cut the wire, stop the bomb” Ornella pleaded.
Stasi rested his forehead against her mouth “So, she is willing to die for you. Are you able to kill for her?”

Bond’s hand moved so quickly that Stasi had no time to react, he dived into him and hooked his arm onto the knife hand, pushing Stasi away from Ornella, Bond drove the knife up into Stasi’s arm pit, and the pain from his broken arm crashed through him, so much so that the knife wound was secondary.

Bond withdrew the knife and went for the heart, but Stasi brought his leg up and the blade embedded itself into his thigh. Bond lost his grip on the weapon and Stasi staggered back against the desk.
He turned and brought Ornella’s gun up in front of his body.

00:00:09sec

Stasi inclined his head, utterly mesmerised by the futility of the act that Bond had performed in trying to comply with Ornella’s plea “Is any woman worth dying for?
Bond held Ornella in his arms

00:00:05sec

Stasi laughed through the pain of his wounds; soon it would all be over “Do you think there could ever have been a woman that I could die for?”

00:00:03sec

The gun shot was loud and sudden. Stasi crumpled to his knees; Bond reached forward and pulled the blade from his thigh. In one fluid motion he grabbed the detonator and sliced through the blue wire with the blood stained knife. The face panel stopped its countdown at

00:00:01sec

Vladimir Chenko lent against the wall, he let the gun fall from his hand “Yes. Your Mother”
Ornella went to comfort Chenko “He told me you were dead”

“I am”

Ornella knew better than to ask about the fate of Leila and Sascha, she accepted what Chako had done for her and for Bond, and for the World, she looked back at Chenko’s dead son.
“He was Stasi” Chenko looked at Ornella “He accepted the contract to kill his own Father; he murdered his own Mother and Sister. How can I live knowing he was my flesh and blood?” Chenko broke down, and Ornella held him to her breast.

Bond heard Q’s voice on his mobile
“007 have you cut the wire yet? 007?”
“Yes, Q it’s all done”
Tanner came on the line “Well done James, I have M for you”
“Not now Bill, I have to go” Bond put the mobile away.
The operations room in the Kremlin always smelt of stale smoke. General Beria sat to the side of Medyev, his head bowed. “The failure of our Sloika* project in Kazakhstan” he looked at Beria “Leaves us no choice but to withdraw from South Ossetia” the delegation mumbled its conferment. “Thank-you General, please see to it”
* Sloika, a layered pastry cake. In honour of the code name of the first single-stage Thermo nuclear devise August 9, 1953
Beria bowed and left the conference room.
Medyev lit a cigar. Through a cloud of blue Cuban smoke he spoke to the man sitting at the far end of the conference table “Have we given you enough time?”
“I believe so” The man was not Russian, but his English accent was different to that which Medyev was a custom to. “The crucial part of our plan was initiated one year ago. Since then our ‘securitization’ has helped develop the global liquidity crisis. We were successful in forcing Barclays to withdraw its bid and skillfully engineer shareholders to endorse our takeover of ABN, stretching our capital position”
Medyev flicked the ash from his cigar onto the table and casually brushed it off. He found the details of their plan fascinating, but looking around the old mahogany paneled room felt that older members of the committee were bored with the banker’s detailed description.
“The British Government had no choice but to freeze the wholesale money markets” The man was only 50 years old but had an amazing record of achievement. He continued “Coming so soon after the nationalization of the Rock proved to be the final straw for my institution, as it severely weakened the balance sheet not only through the size of the acquisition but due to ABN’s substantial exposure to the US subprime mortgage crisis” He sat back and waited, as if expecting a round of applause.
Medyev breathed in the aroma of the cigar “Perhaps a one line summary? For clarity?”
The man was not disappointed by their reaction, he was going to give them the World’s economy on a plate, and if they had no idea on how he achieved it; that made him indispensible.
He had worked for the Russians for almost eighteen years. Back then he was in charge of 1,000 people from London to Abu Dhabi and the Cayman Islands, his investigation techniques proved most commendable, and the KGB had rewarded him with the publicity that came with recovering over seventy five percent of the money from one of the most complicated, high-profile financial frauds ever. The KGB engineered some creative accounting that allowed only fifty percent being returned to the aggrieved parties. He thought for a moment, ‘what words will they understand’
He lent forward and put his hands palm up on the old desk “My strategy of aggressive expansion through acquisition, will lead to a disastrous near-collapse of the UK’s banking within ten weeks. In four to five months time the entire Western civilization will be in crisis”
Medyev asked “Define crisis?”
“Bankrupt”
“Thank-you. You have achieved more in this one year than our military achieved in ten” Medyev picked up the telephone “Now is the time, withdraw our funds from the English banks, and foreclose on the US and European loans”
He replaced the receiver “It is done, let the war commence”
The committee applauded.

[volante]

Chapter Eleven

Zaia

Miss Moneypenny read the article by Larry Elliott again. The Economics Editor of The Guardian had provoked a feeling of unrest in her with his account. Surely this crisis could not just be incompetency, somebody must be responsible.

“On the face of it, there was nothing memorable about last August. House prices were rising, unemployment falling and the economy was growing at 3%. Gordon Brown was enjoying his honeymoon period with a 10-point lead over the Torys.
It was, however, then that the world changed.

August 2007 marked the cut-off point between prosperity and tranquility and the trench warfare of the credit crunch, failed banks and property markets blown to hell by a lack of credit.
The European Central Bank and the US Federal Reserve injected £45bn into the financial markets. Gordon Brown said Britain was in "good a shape to weather the storm".

By mid-September however, Britain saw queues outside Northern Rock, it was the first run on a high street bank since the demise of Overend, Gurney & Co in the 1860s.

Even then, certain bankers were advising the Chancellor that things would start to pick up in the first quarter of 2008. But we are now in the third quarter, and the Chancellor has likened the onslaught on the country as to being at war. But this is a different sort of war. Labour had economic problems during its first decade in power, but in retrospect they were skirmishes rather than full-scale battles. The years leading up to August 2007 had seen a few prominent bankers manipulating the Government to relax the power of the regulators, and develop new and sophisticated ways for the financial markets to make and, as has subsequently been revealed, lose money.

Consumers have been coerced to living beyond their means, having to borrow more money to buy houses at inflated prices. Banks relaxed the criteria for granting loans, and then bundled up the poor-quality loans, mixed them up with some good quality mortgages, and sold the packages of debt in a process known as securitization. By August 2007, money raised by securitization was funding 60% of the UK’s home loans.

Warnings from the International Monetary Fund were ignored by the major banks. Managing Director Dominique Strauss-Kahn argued that certain CEO’s now welded more power than despot dictators, and are a more serious threat to the member countries than Al Qaeda.

The housing market was in free-fall and mortgage backed securities were worth less than those holding them imagined. With nobody sure big the gap was, the markets lost the two ingredients vital to keep them vibrant; confidence and trust.

Banks stopped lending to one another, and then sought to repair their own finances by cutting back on lending. Borrowing became harder and more expensive, the classic definition of a credit crunch. Cheap and easy credit has been the lubricant for both the US and UK economies; without it they seize up.

The second big problem for policymakers, not just in Britain but around the world, is that they are fighting a war on two fronts. Central banks and finance ministers are grappling not just with the credit crunch, but also with rising inflation. In August last year, crude oil was trading at $70 a barrel; it peaked in July 2008 at more than $145 a barrel and now stands at $120 a barrel. Rising food prices have also pushed up the cost of living, making it harder for central banks to justify cuts in interest rates.

In January 2008 the intervention by the world's leading central banks was seen as the warning shot of recession. The Federal Reserve bail-out of Bear Stearns in March was the first evidence of a lost battle, and July’s rescue of Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae saw the slaughter of the US mortgage market.
And now evidence that the crisis is spreading from the financial markets into the economy at large is everywhere. The Bank of England says the story is still unfolding, seeing its role now is to re-shape Britain's financial regulatory system so that these power hungry individuals must never be allowed to weld the power that they had again”


“I’ll say goodnight then Ma’am” Bill Tanner held the file in his hands
M looked up from her screen “Yes, goodnight Tanner”
Tanner left the office and was surprised to see Moneypenny still working at he PC “Working late?”
She looked at him and held out her hand for the file “Yes, I thought tonight would be ‘case closed’ thought I would get the administration complete before going home”
Tanner handed her the file, he could tell she wanted to talk
“Bill?” she said without looking at him
“Yes” He replied waiting for her comment
She looked directly at him “How bad is this going to get?” she gestured to the newspaper.
Tanner shrugged his shoulders “Difficult to say, word has it that we will be in recession early part of next year”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Us? No, MI5 are investigating, but early reports say there isn’t a bank in the country that hasn’t been involved in some ‘dodgy’ dealings. Christ knows what would happen if the truth ever got out” The silence hung between them “Revolution, maybe”
Moneypenny tapped the folder “Chenko hinted that this would happen”
Tanner nodded “Yes, we certainly appear to have a traitor within our midst and a very gullible Government”
Opening the folder Moneypenny said “Chenko must be devastated”
Tanner replied “In effect they have won. Chenko has resigned from Sibneft, and has declared he has no further political aspirations. All his family are dead. And we are facing economic disaster”
Moneypenny began to fish for information, Tanner could sense what was coming “The Russian agent, Koznakova? I understand she has resigned her commission”
“Yes, she is going back to teaching” He let the sentence fade
After a moments silence she asked “When is 007 due back?”
“I don’t know Moneypenny, he asked for some leave and M isn’t expecting him to be available for active duty again for at least two weeks. I expect I will put him on a training course when he does get back”
Moneypenny laughed “Oh he will like that, cooped up in some boring meeting”
“I think I will put him on a pursuit driving course or some parachute refreshers, something light. He’s been through a lot on this mission”
“Yes I know” Moneypenny answered quickly
“I think we will break him in gently; I’m sure he will just be moping about on his leave. You know just getting his head back together. Quietly. Alone”
“Yes, I’m just worried he’ll be bored all alone”
Tanner had to use all his resolve to keep a straight face.
“Goodnight Moneypenny”
Alone she opened the folder and read the final summary that M had written.
“The main objective of the mission was to secure the supply of oil and gas to the UK. This was achieved.
“A second objective was to eliminate the threat of a new supply of heroin reaching the UK. This was achieved.
“Oliver Kassian, Russian agent turned rogue in US. He has now been banned from re-entering the US and Russia. Although his actual whereabouts are unknown, he is now not considered to be a national threat. Surveillance not requested.
“Vladimir Chenko, although suffering a tragic personal loss is alive and well, we can only hope that in time he will reconsider his political future. Surveillance requested.
“Ornella Koznakova. Agent 007 reports her assistance was fundamental to the success of the mission. Agent 007 has informed us that Agent Koznakova has resigned her commission and has returned to Beslan to pursue her teaching profession. Surveillance not requested.
“Agent 007 is to be commended on his bravery and ingenuity on the mission. Agent 007 has requested three weeks leave in London to assist in the Brookwood restoration project. Request granted.


“Pull”
The trap released and the clay flew out over the side of the yacht, high into the cloudless sky.
Bond lifted the Browning B425 to his shoulder and fired, the clay disintegrated and a thousand pieces fell into the warm South China Sea.
“Now it’s your turn” He turned to Ornella. He watched her as she picked up the Bettinsoli Diamondline shot gun. They had arrived only two days ago, yet her body had responded well to the Asian climate, and now the tiny coral pink bikini complemented her sun kissed flesh. The 30 plus degrees of sunshine and a lazy Reggie beat from the boat’s sound system, coupled with the ocean’s rhythm made their mood happy and carefree.
She looked back at Bond and saw he was looking at her “Pay attention James” she giggled, using the words Q had, which had plainly riled the otherwise cold efficient man that now knelt before her. Bond shook his head and prepared the Bowman trap.
“Pull” She giggled again which delayed the aiming of the gun, but then she focused and fired in one fluid movement. The clay disintegrated. “Yes” she said jumping up and down. Her body mesmerized him, he stood up and went to the ice bucket “Celebration?” he held the bottle of Bollinger aloft. Putting the gun in the stand, she went to him, moving her body sensually to the rhythm “Every little thing is gonna be alright” she sang. Bond handed her the champagne flute and held her body close to him. It had been just one week since they left Astana, Ornella’s two small wounds were healing nicely, and Bond only needed a small dressing to the wound on his arm. They swayed to the music and drank champagne.
Later she asked “James, do you have any interest in the Brookwood restoration project?”
“Of course, it’s a site of national importance”
She looked at him, knowing he was teasing her; suddenly he grabbed her and picked her up “But right now there’s only one body I’m interested in” He carried her to the large circular bed at the stern of the yacht.

They spent a further four days on the yacht, sailing along the coast, scuba diving and making love. Their routine was dictated by their mood and their passion, but they were always available on the bridge at seven o clock every evening.

When Chenko contacted them, Bond answered immediately.
“How does she handle?”
“The yacht, just fine” Bond answered and Ornella slapped him playfully. She jumped up went to get a couple of beer’s, bending over she lent into the cool box.
“She’s beautiful isn’t she? I hope you are taking full advantage of her?”
Bond answered “Absolutely”
Chenko’s tone hardened “Ok, to business. It is confirmed he arrived today. Suite 3021. Tomorrow evening he is booked to see the Zaia. Afterwards you will find him in the Yunan room, he has a private table”
“Any official protection?”
“No, the Chinese won’t touch him. He has a couple of local goons, but the Triads own everybody so there will be no problem with the hotel management”
Ornella snuggled back into him, and handed him a beer.
Bond replied “Ok, I will speak to you afterwards”

The following day they moored the yacht and went into town to buy suitable clothes for the evening ahead.
Bond and Ornella looked resplendent, his dinner suit looked sharp in black, and her red and gold silk gown made her appear to glow as the soft evening breeze ruffled its textured folds.

They boarded the Cotai turbojet. As the Sheung Wan - Taipa route is used mainly by visitors to The Venetian Macao; all the other passengers were dressed similarly. The Hydrofoil skipped over the water, and the sea breeze strengthened their resolve.

The Venetian Macao is a Renaissance Venice themed luxury hotel and casino resort in Macau. The Venetian is a 40 storey building modeled on its sister casino resort in Las Vegas.

It is the largest single structure hotel building in Asia and the fourth-largest building in the world by area.
The Cotai docked, and Bond and Ornella walked with the other passengers toward the private entrance of the Paiza.

The hotel’s VIP club caters for the high-rollers and premium guests. Bond’s cover and credit limit had been readily accepted by the gaming manager. The club has its own entrance lobby, reception, butlers and guest lifts to their suites. The gaming area of the Paiza Club is divided into individual private gaming rooms and named after Asian cities such as Yunnan.

Arm in arm Bond and Ornella walked beside the San Lucia canal. The buzz of excitement was everywhere; even those people who had never visited Venice before felt that they were actually there experiencing the atmosphere. The black painted gondolas took their passengers in serene luxury along the length of the waterway, allowing a new perspective on the amazing setting.
Bond showed their tickets and were taken to their seats.

The Zaia (The title comes from a Greek meaning "life") was a brand new show featuring performance artists from all four corners of the globe. It had been playing now for just over a month at the dedicated Cirque du Soleil arena in the hotel.
The lights dimmed and Ornella’s imagination was captured by the show. The principle performer was a young girl, whose perception of the stars and planets, space and infinity is explored by the story. The show unfolded, fantastic feats populated by panoply of fantastic, out-of-this-world creatures.

Bond scanned the audience and soon their target was located. At the interval they left their seats and slipped away to prepare for the night ahead.

The salon privee in the Yunnan gaming room was themed in sea-green and silver; the calming colours extenuated the warm chestnut brown of the elm furniture. Oliver Kassian ran his hand over the table top, marvelling at the rich wave-like grain of the wood. His two Chinese bodyguards were escorting the German millionaire industrialist from the room. The man had lost two hundred thousand Euros, before his temper got the better of him. Kassian watched the ejection with disdain. He checked his wrist watch; “Time to call it a night” Kassian pressed the button on the floor by the table leg, which summoned his butler.

The butler appeared at his side and bowed. “Cash these in; bring me a ‘House cheque’”
The butler carefully transferred the chips to his tray and left the salon.

Kassain went to the bar and poured himself another Remy Martin. He smiled to himself and took in the caramel aroma; its warm fiery taste satisfied him like no other brandy.

The polite cough from behind him alerted him that his cheque had arrived, holding the brandy glass up to the light he turned back toward the gaming table.

“You should be careful, about drinking, so late at night” James Bond stood by the table.
“Could give you heartburn”

“Would you care to join me Mr. Bond” Kassain took hold of the decanter.

“No, I don’t drink with murdering psychopaths”

Kassain shrugged and took a sip.
“You’re looking very alive Mr. Bond; I thought my little Shahidka would have spread you all over Kazakhstan”
“You’ve not been keeping up with the latest news then?”
“I’m a little out of touch”
“The Russians have disowned you”
“Yeah, I’m a little more Gucci than Ruski”
“The Americans won’t have you back either”
Kassian held his arms out “Hey, new economies new customers, China is a developing country”
“I’m surprised you haven’t darkened your hair, tried to fit in a little bit more, like you did in the states”
“Guess I‘m just a Russian boy at heart”
Bond sat down at the table “Good, I thought we would play one of your national games”

Kassian took his lead and sat in his seat, he placed the decanter on the table. “Chess, Chapayev, Lapta?” he tapped the button with his foot.

Bond put his hand into his pocket, and placed a small battery onto the table “Your butler gave me this” in way of explanation he lent forward “No one can hear the call button” he lent back, feeling in his other pocket.
Bond took out the small revolver and put it on the table.
“I took this from one of your goons, outside; they’ve decided to take the hydrofoil home, instead of looking out for you”
Kassian took the news impassively “So, what are the rules?”
Bond opened the cylinder and emptied the bullets; standing them on end side by side “You place a single round in the revolver” Bond pushed the bullet into the gun. He closed it and spun the cylinder “Spin the cylinder”
Bond placed the gun on the table between them. “Put the muzzle against your head and pull the trigger”
Kassian put the brandy glass down “I’m game, you go first”

“I thought about that. Eventually you get to hold the gun. I have a sneaking suspicion that you would try to cheat Mr. Kassian”
Kassian picked up his brandy and downed it.
“So I have come up with an ingenious solution”
The Salon door opened and Ornella came in, her gown rustled seductively as she approached the table. She placed a beige alabaster Chemin de fer pearl finish dealing shoe on the table.

The shoe was about the same size as an actual shoe box, sitting on its side. The roller assembly and handle were the same colour as the main body of the box, complemented with gold leaf pin stripes. The front of the box had a darker alcantara ‘door’ covering its mouse hole. Strangely enough the lid was broken, but it seemed to be a clean break half way down the length. Outwardly Kassian ignored Ornella, but inside his rage burned sharper than the brandy.

Bond placed the revolver on its side in the box, and then he slid the lid over it. Kassian watched with mild amusement. Ornella put her hand into the box and demonstrated that it was impossible to withdraw the hand whilst still holding the gun.
“You need to take the gun out to cock it” Ornella explained
“Er, I think I understand” He said sarcastically
Bond ignored him and spun the chamber. Ornella held out a dark brown suede bag and Bond dropped the gun into it. Carefully he placed it into the shoe, and pointed it toward Kassian

“Now, unless I’m very much mistaken, last time we spoke you wanted to shoot me through the heart” Bond turned the shoe around so it pointed back at himself. “I’m game, you go first”

Kassian burst out laughing and said to Bond “You British and your sense of fair play”
Kassian slipped his hand into the bag, and fumbled around until he felt the trigger. Clumsily he maneuvered the box until it pointed directly at Bond’s heart.
Bond lent forward and placed his hands on the shoe “One thing puzzles me, Kassian”
“Go on”

“When we were in Astana, you called Ornella your ‘little Shahidka’ what does that actually mean?”

Kassian began to laugh again “Oh, Mr. Bond, in English it means black widow”
Bond nodded slowly; then smiled at Ornella; then deliberately he turned back toward Kassian, all the time he kept his hands on the shoe.
“Ok, that explains why”
Kassian smiled back at Bond “Why what?”

“Why she put black widow spiders in that bag”
Kassian felt the sting of the first bite, and then another. Abruptly he stopped smiling. He tried to withdraw his hand but Bond kept hold of the shoe. Another sting of pain seemed to send more venom directly into his blood stream. Kassian kicked the chair out behind him and struggled to his feet, desperately trying to free his hand. His legs buckled, and he slipped to the floor, his chin resting on the table.
Ornella grabbed his other arm and began whispering in his ear “Feel the pain of every shahidka you sent to her grave”
Kassian’s blood was turning to jelly, the flow slowed and stopped, as his heart and brain cried out for oxygen, his lungs began to contract. His eyes bulged in their sockets. Ornella let go of his arm and Bond released the shoe.

Kassian crashed to the floor, his eyes staring blankly.

Bond reached out to Ornella, and she took his hand.

The end

James Bond

Will return in

Bombshell

[volante]

Epilogue


And yet another clap of thunder.

As the Lear jet fell through the clouds, Sir Francis Pinevail gripped his armrest just a little more firmly.
Certainly he had flown in bad weather before, but that had always been on a large commercial flight; now he was the only passenger on a small private jet. And no one back home knew where he was.

The elaborate lengths his Russian masters had gone to, to keep his visits to Moscow secret were starting to seem like a bad idea now.
The plane switch in Gothenburg had, at first been exciting, but in this morning’s torrential rain it had been just another opportunity to get wet.
Another clap of thunder resonated throughout the jet.
The plane dropped.
The wind buffeted the wings and the Pilot
compensated.
Sir Francis exhaled a long drawn out breath.
‘Not now God not now’ he thought
‘Not when everything was going so well’
If he could have put his hands together he would have prayed, but he was too frightened to take them off the blue leather armrests.

The pretty flight attendant smiled reassuringly at him, he attempted to smile back but his face was locked in a grimace. Sir Francis hated being out of control, and this was a situation he was definitely out of control.

It was only two weeks ago that he had been on top of his game, totally in control. He recalled his feeling of triumph when Medyev had initiated the final part of the master plan.
‘Let the war commence’ he had said.
Soon the UK economy would be plunged into recession. But since then he had felt his position weaken.

Yesterdays’ meeting had gone well, but with most of the agenda already being closed off, he had felt nothing but frustration; in one way Pinevail had thought it pointless he should even attend.
The news that Kassian had been killed passed with hardly a comment. But of course it was always beneficial to be present among such influential comrades, and of course it had sealed his future.

In one month’s time Sir Francis (known to his employees and shareholders as ‘Frank the Bank’) would drop the bombshell that he intended to resign from his position; for health reasons.
In reality he wanted to be far away from the UK when the excrement finally hit the fan.
All the planning, the preparation and the hard work he had put in over the last six years was finally coming together.

After ‘9/11’ the balance of power had shifted and Russia saw the opportunity to redress the World order. Carefully they put their plans in place, and now it was all coming together.

The rain lashed against the windows, and the plane shook again, the storm was as fierce as he could remember; but just like the Russians, he knew they could not turn back.

The distance from Moscow to Edinburgh was three thousand five hundred kilometres. Everything he had worked for since pledging his allegiance to the Russian cause rested in his ability to make it back those last few hundred kilometres to Scotland, without anyone knowing he had been away.
And now Scotland was just over one hour away. Sixty short minutes of terror, and then, pension in place he would be free.

The buzzer cut through his thinking. It was a sound he had never heard on a plane before, he looked at the flight attendant for explanation, but she now looked as terrified as he did. The cockpit door flew open and the Co –pilot came into the cabin. The look on his thin face reflected the seriousness of the situation
“The Captain has asked me to tell you that we are turning back” he spoke English with just a hint of Russian.
It took a moment for the message to sink in
“No, impossible. I have to be in Scotland for a meeting in the morning”
The Co-pilot tried to explain but another sudden drop sent him sprawling to the floor. With an effort he got to his feet.
Clutching his arm he said “I’m sorry sir; it’s not out of choice. We have lost power in the port engine”
Sir Francis stared back; he had nothing to negotiate with, thinking quickly he asked
“Where are we going to land?”
“Gothenburg, I hope” and with that he made his way back into the cockpit.

The Co-pilot sat back in his seat, and began to rub his arm.
“You told him?” asked the Pilot, his face set in fear.
The controls seemed to be fighting his every touch.
The other officer nodded
“OK” The Pilot carefully took his hand off the controls and switched on his radio.
“Mayday, mayday. This is Papa Alfa 679. Advising mayday. Our position is North 35 degrees West 40
GPS 357. 401”
For what seemed like hours the radio was silent, the Captain repeated the message over and over. Then he was answered, first came static followed by
“Ahoy Papa Alfa 679. We are the S.S. Kokao. Four miles west of your current position, we see you on radar. Advise”

“This is Papa…” The Captain cut off the radio and pushed the controls forward; he dropped six hundred feet, watching the sea rise up to welcome him, and then pulled hard on the wheel. The jet screamed around in a tight circle and headed back toward Sweden. In the cabin Sir Francis’s scream was matched only by that of the Flight attendant.

He dropped the Lear another one hundred feet, so that the waves looked like they might consume them.
With deliberation he switched off all communications.
Smiling at his Co pilot he said
“That should cause a stir”

“Yes sir, let the World think we’re down”

“OK, open up transmissions with base, they need to know where we are taking their precious cargo”

The Co pilot took out a portable radio and switched it on, unlike the official aircraft transmitter; this was not attached to the black box. Any transmission made on this machine was totally covert and only able to be picked up by the Russian secret service.

The Captain of the S.S. Kokao, would soon be reporting the loss of contact with a private jet over the North sea. As far as the World was concerned Papa Alfa 679 had crashed.

The Pilot knew how imperative it was not to lose his precious cargo in the North Sea; and it would be far less problematic if the World thought Papa Alfa 679 was no longer traceable.
The Co Pilot began his transmission
“Mocneahne Hoboctn…” roughly translated it is the Russian word for “Breaking News”

The first station to pick them up was located in Norway. The operator verified the code word and grabbed his microphone.
“I am Christiana. Identify yourself”
“I am Kirov” The Co pilot waited for the reply. Frantically the operator searched through his code book.


***


With a wave of her hand Ornella disappeared into the crowd of passengers passing through the International departures gate. For an action often associated with sadness James Bond’s mood was light.

The time they had spent together, had been wonderful, but with the threat of normality creeping into the relationship, Bond knew it was time to end it. Ornella was returning to Beslan, to teaching, to the life she wanted. Bond would return to London; their lives intact.

But before he could truly get his life back on course there was one thing he had to do.


***


The agent stationed near Oslo, had fought to remain calm when he read the meaning of the codeword Kirov. He spoke slowly and clearly into his microphone.
“Use channel 3. Christiana out” and with a flourish he broke the contact.
The Co Pilot pressed the number three button and repeated his message “Breaking News”

The reply was almost instantaneous
“I am Olga” the droll masculine voice came back at him.
“Identify yourself”

“I am Kirov” The Co pilot answered

The agent instructed “Transmit”

“I am Kirov returning to Gothenburg, arrange”

Olga’s short stubby fingers danced over the keypad.
The reply was quick and precise
He grasped the microphone and spoke
“I am Olga. Gothenburg is dead. Proceed Stranna”

The Co pilot checked his code book and spoke to the Pilot
“They want us to go to the private strip at Trollhatten”
The Pilot did a quick calculation “That’s another 60 kilometres, fuel will be tight” Sweat ran freely from his temples, but he knew better than to argue.
Slowly he nodded his head.
The Co pilot began to transmit
“I am Kirov. Proceeding to Stranna”

The ferocity of the storm continued. The Lear limped on with the one remaining engine screaming back at the thunder that strove to kill it.

The Swedish landscape came rushing up at them; the Lear hugged the hills ridges and folds of the land.
The rain was unrelenting; and the fuel gauge read empty.
The Pilot took the Lear over another snow covered hill.
The snow flew in the wake at the passing of the jet
“How is our passenger?” the Pilot asked
The co pilot put down the covert transmitter and went through into the cabin.
Then it happened, the pitch of the jet engine decreased.
The Pilot checked the fuel gauge again, but it had registered empty since the coast. He peered through the windscreen
‘So where can I land’ he thought.
The engine caught for a moment then nothing.
The silence of the jet brought a new panic to
Sir Francis,
the Co pilot turned and raced back to the cockpit.
The pretty fight attendant screamed.
His eyes strained to see through the rain; struggling to keep the plane level, he looked for any hope of landing.
He dropped another fifty feet. He could see the ground.
The trees were thinning there was a small single track lane and then the lake, he banked left and followed north along the length the Lear wobbled turning from a silver arrow into a lump of metal falling from the sky.
The lake was about a mile long, fringed with trees
He had just one thought
‘Get as close to the shore as possible’
He trimmed the flaps and glided in “Better get your belts on”

Brace

The Lear dropped on full flap the tail touched the icy water; slowly he brought the nose down.
With frightening speed he saw the far shore of the lake looming
The body hit the surface, it dug in like a brake and the water plumed behind them.
Sir Francis felt the panic and fear rise in waves of red hot bile.
Like a stone the jet skimmed over the surface.
They hit again, but now at an angle. The Lear began to turn. As it hit for a third time it began to spin.
Water splashed up over the cockpit windows, and the sound of metal tearing filled the small cabin like the scream of a banshee,
and Sir Francis knew he was going to die, alone.


***


James Bond walked quietly along the path.
The area he was looking for was clearly defined.
The fresh flowers marked the grave as being new.
Bond stood and looked at the headstone.
The inscription was quietly poignant,
and raised emotions Bond thought he could keep hidden deep inside.

In Loving Memory of

Daisy

Daughter of Hugh and Caroline Sinclair

Who can restrain a heart felt tear?
And fail to weep for one so dear?
None but the God, who gave us breath
And now compels us, submit to death.
Tis hard but patience must endure
And soothe the wound it cannot cure.

After paying his last respects
James Bond left the cemetery, alone.

Attached Files

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