26 February 2013
Chapter 2
Barely half an hour after his flat had hurled itself at him, James Bond found himself staring at the brass plaque inconspicuously bearing the legend 'Universal Exports'. He was still amused that such a weak cover was still being used by his employers, and even more amused by the fact that it had never been rumbled. This was good, because he knew he'd need his sense of humour intact in view of what he knew was to come. Already on leave, he'd figured that M would either keep him here or in some boring safe house, a million miles from where he knew he really ought to be. Out in the field, looking for whoever was behind what was clearly a personal attack on one of Her Majesty's agents. Noticing he was still wearing a light coating of dust from the explosion, he dusted himself down, and proceeded to punch in the access code on the keypad next to the plaque. He glanced around at a busy London. Everything seemed to be as normal, suits on their way to work, taxis clogging the street, busses, mothers, fathers. Ordinary folk. Ordinary day. Well, nearly. With a green light and a dull buzz, the door clicked and he pushed through it, turning to make sure it was closed behind him. Inside this innocuous facade lay corridor after corridor of the British Secret Service. He knew it well, and as he strolled briskly he gave a few nods of acknowledgement to people he barely knew, but kept his stride up. The door to the outside office was open, they'd known he'd come, in keeping with MI6 protocol. Moneypenny stood when she saw him. 'James, thank god. We feared...' He'd cleared his amused initial thoughts on the way to the office, knowing he'd have to give this his full attention. He barely smiled. 'Hello, Penny. No time today I'm afraid. You understand. This is big. Is he ready for me?' Moneypenny understood. Her tone was serious, but she couldn't resist a small smile. 'Yes James. Go right in.'
There were several people that Bond didn't recognise in M's office, but as soon as M's grey eyes caught sight of him he waved them away. They all seemed to understand, and gave Bond polite nods as they left the room. The green leather padded doors closed silently behind them. The room was empty. M stood. 'Ah 007. You're alright then? No damage?' 'Well the flat's gone sir, and as for the car...' 'No, I mean you. Are you sure?' 'As far as I can tell sir.' M reached out across the desk, motioning him to sit and take a cigarette with the same gesture. Bond gratefully accepted. 'Well then, what do you think? Police have been to yours already, sent me this.' He overturned a piece of A4 paper. On its reverse was Bonds picture, the black X, and ENDGAME in red underneath. 'Straight from the scene. They haven't found anything else yet. Knew you'd come though, so let's hear it. Anything?' Bond wasn't too surprised at the speed at which M had gotten hold of the paper. A seemingly personal attack would garner such a rapid response. Bond drew on the cigarette, letting the smoke fill him, and exhaled slowly and thoughtfully. His mind was clear, but he had to admit that he didn't have a clue. There must have been several organisations and individual lunatics around the world that would prefer him dead, but they wouldn't have taken the time to prepare an attack like this. Bond was, in effect, MI6's bluntest instrument, a means to get a job done. And a general fly in the ointment, so anyone bearing a grudge surely would have just swatted him. So the answer had to be, 'No sir. ' M regarded him coolly, then filled his pipe and lit it. As the smell of the freshly lit tobacco started to fill the room, M reached out and picked up a remote control from the other side of the desk. He pointed it at the large flat screen monitor hanging on the wall behind him. Pressing a button, he gruffly said 'Here, someone for you.' The monitor flickered to life. Someone Bond recognised and liked appeared on the screen, and he stubbed the cigarette out. 'Well well, Felix, it has been a long time.' Bond was smiling, which dissipated rapidly under M's steady glare. And then a sudden thought. 'What on earth brings you into this?' CIA agent Felix Leiter was one of Bonds closest allies, and as it turned out, a close friend. They'd worked together on many occasions, some with excellent results, some not so. Bond winced at the painful memory of the death of Leiters wife, Della, on their very wedding day, and the subsequent peril Felix had found himself in, resulting in the loss of an arm. All credit to the man, he'd pulled through with his sense of humour intact. But he wasn't smiling today. And with his Texan drawl he announced, 'This does.' He held up a piece of paper to the screen. It was the wrong way round, but before he'd managed to turn it to face the camera, Bond could see what M already knew. Printed on it was Felix's picture, with a big black X drawn through it. And underneath, in red, was written ENDGAME. Bond stood bolt upright, staring at the screen, not quite believing his eyes. He looked at M, who was taking his pipe out of his mouth with one hand and holding out flight tickets with the other. They were for Virginia, USA. 'Go.' he said. 'Damn the doctor, I need you on this. But be careful. I've pulled strings to get you passed fit 007, so don't foul up. Visit the armourer. Get what you think you'll need from Q Branch. Just remember, this is serious. It's not a fancy organisation you're up against, it's an agenda, that much is clear. With specific targets. Well go on!' Bond gave M the wryest of smiles as he turned and ran through the office. He didn't stop for Moneypenny either, although he did manage to blow her a kiss on his way. The visit to the armourer was brief, as he was expected. Freshly armed, his visit to Q Branch took a little longer, as technical details had to be explained. Briefcase in hand he felt newly alive at the prospect of taking on this unseen enemy. He reached the lift which would take him down to the car pool. As the doors opened he noticed it contained another passenger, who was far too engrossed in his newspaper to take any notice of Bond, or so it seemed. And Bond had far too much excitement in his head to pay him any mind. But if he had, as the stranger lowered his newspaper, Bond may well have recognised him, and the flight may not have been necessary. And Endgame may have came around much sooner than he'd expected.
Endgame • Opuss № I