PADME
by JetNoir and Thin Lizzy
part one
TIBET
The barrel of the sniper rifle was warm in his hands, as James Bond peered down the scope, awaiting his next target. It was cold, and his breath condensed in front of him, as if smoking the very cigarettes he had given up, not so long before. It had been the doctors at MI6 that had persuaded him, and some had been more persuasive than others.
It was still unclear why he was still – apart to protect one of Her Majesty's best agents, but Bond had always detested shotgunning others.
And there she was. Running towards him, furiously, frantically, waving her arms…pursued. Bond sighed and shifted position slightly, aiming the cross-hairs at Target Number One. A brief squeeze of the trigger, and the man fell to the ground. Again, another shift, and the hairs lined up on the skull of the final pursuer. Yet another squeeze.
The bullet missed.
Bond almost cried in shock, his aim had been perfect. There was no time for reflection, however, as he re-aimed just in time to see the agent fall to the ground, blood spilling out of her young body. In anger, Bond fired two shots in rapid succession, killing the killer, but the sinking, devastating realisation sunk in.
He had failed.
VAUXHALL CROSS – THREE DAYS LATER
MI6 Headquarters
As Bond walked wearily into the lobby of HQ, he saw Tanner waiting for him, patiently. Tanner's face was drawn, looking like he hadn't slept for days, but then, knowing the schedules of this place…he probably hadn't.
"Good morning James," Tanner said slowly, "M's waiting upstairs." Not much of a greeting, but then Bond had never expected much.
Tanner was silent as the lift rose to the upper levels, and Bond did not want to force conversation.
The lift opened onto Moneypenny's office, and she smiled slightly as he walked forward. Bond turned:
"You're not coming?" he asked Tanner, and Tanner just shook his head.
"She's all your James," he replied, pushing a button.
"Good morning," said Moneypenny, "you're to go right in." James nodded – unusual – no quip or smile. All business.
"Good morning," said M, as Bond walked into her office. Bond smiled:
"Funny…I seem to be getting a lot of good morning's this…morning. Scared of hurting my feelings?"
"No need for sarcasm double-o seven," she said, "I guess we all just want to wish you a…good morning." Bond shrugged and sat in the seat she offered him.
There was a long and uncomfortable silence in the office, until M said:
"You know…we don't blame you. You shouldn't blame yourself either. It was a difficult mission, and although the loss of Agent Kaberle was tragic, by no means was it your fault. Although we would like you to rest, we need you, simple as that. Drink?" Bond nodded, and M's diminutive figure rose to the cabinet behind her.
When it was passed to him, Bond slowly sipped the amber liquid, relishing its fiery taste, cold and hard.
"We're sending you to Austria, double-o seven. MI6 have heard on the grapevine about a new religious leader residing there. We believe he has links to terrorism, and that they are planning an attack soon. You are to investigate this leader – Rene Gagne – and to find any of these supposed links. Report to Q Branch before you leave." Bond nodded and headed to the door.
"Good luck, double-o seven."
Q BRANCH
Q was looking cheerful, as Bond walked into the infamous laboratory, wondering what surprise's had been cooked up for him.
"Hello double-o seven!" called Q; "I'll be right over."
"Morning Q!" said Bond, "Is R around? Tripping up again?"
Q smiled wickedly, and pointed at the floor. Bond looked down, and seeing the trapdoor beneath his feet, decided to move back swiftly.
The trapdoor exploded with a rush of air, and R materialised as if by magic, rather than the express elevator.
"I heard that double-o seven!" snapped R primly, "And if you don't mind, you might want to watch where you're going."
"Oh, do be quiet!" smiled Q, pressing a large red button, on the remote control in his hand, and with a scream of: "NO!" R vanished back down the trapdoor.
"New invention we're testing for some actor friends," said Q, "if a crowd gets ugly, the Expanding Elevator under a trap-door for your emergency exit needs!"
"Emergency is right!" smirked Bond, and Q gave him a despairing glance:
"Oh, grow up, double-o seven!"
VIENNA
Snow was falling lightly, like petals from cherry-blossom, as Bond walked out of Vienna International Airport, three hours late. Bond loved turbulence…as long as he was not experiencing it. Walking down the descending ramps from the plane, Bond wondered how he could infiltrate this Gagne's organisation. Perhaps, for once, an external observation would suffice, at least for now.
One thing Bond found disturbing, was how nervous he was. Bond; never felt nervous, not since his first mission. His failure in Tibet had deeply disturbed him.
Something was wrong, but Bond couldn't guess what it was.
"Mr Bond?" a voice behind him, "Excuse me, are you Mr Bond, of Universal Exports?"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Bond twisted, and saw a very old lady. She looked terribly frail, but had a dark glint in her eye. Bond had seen that before. It was the look of a killer.
"Yes?"
"Greetings for the Vienna office, Mr Bond, and our sincerest apologies. We have to move quickly, as your plane arrived late. We are about to apprehend a suspect, I'll give you the details in our car."
"Of course," said Bond, "lead the way."
LEAVING VIENNA
The car was moving extremely quickly, but that didn't bother Bond much. He gazed out the window, taking in the gargantuan metallic structures, holding oil, on the other side of the road. It was beautiful, and eerie, almost ethereal. Bond turned his head, and looked at the speed demon-granny sitting beside him.
"Pardon me for asking," said Bond, "for I know this is deeply rude…but how old are you!" The lady chuckled:
"Twenty-one! And that's all you'll get out of me young whippersnapper! I taught old Boothroyd everything he knows…so that might give you a clue!"
"So where are we heading?"
"Rabensberg," she said, "it's about an hour and a half away, as long as we're quick. We're 'arresting'…and I'm using that term in the ironic sense…a young woman called Hanna Kasabian. We believe she has close links to Rene Gagne and we need to interrogate her as soon as possible."
"Why don't you let me go?" said Bond, "See if I can talk to her."
"Why do you think we're bringing you all this way, Mr Genius?"
"Alright, I get the point. What approach do you want me to use?"
"Just pump her for information!"
"I walked straight into that one," smiled Bond.
RABENSBERG
Three Miles From The Austrian – Czech Border
"So 'Universal Exports' is coming?" said Hanna Kasabian, "What do you want me to do?"
"I'm sure you're ample charms are equal to the task of MI-6" said the man standing next to her.
"But Rene…can you escape in time?"
"Who said I was going to escape?" said Rene Gagne.
To Be Continued
Disclaimer: James Bond is copyright to Ian Fleming and M-G-M; and the story, plus original characters to JetNoir and Thin Lizzy. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir and Thin Lizzy
