"Friendly Bullet To The Heart"

"Friendly Bullet To The Heart"

PART III

By Jonathan Urban

February 9,12 2000

(Disclaimer: All Characters Are Property of UA/MGM)

"Well then..,go see Q and and godspeed 007," M managed a smile, as Bond got up.

"Thank you M..."

"Good, 007, this way quickly," Q motioned Bond to his left. "The latest in self preservation...and with you a top priority I might add," Q held up a dark body armor of some type, though looked no heavier than perhaps a suit jacket--in fact, it was designed just like a suit jacket. "Hundred-Percent kevlar," Q smiled, "the pants too--in case you decide to run off with someone's wife."

"I suppose the dry cleaning bills will be minimal," Bond quipped back at Q. "What else do you have for me?" Bond was led by Q over to a BMW, much like the previous model but a year newer.

"No major additions here 007, except for more armor...though it does have this nifty little defense," Q pressed a button and the roof over the passenger side opened and the seated shot up through.

"No more back seat drivers I presume."

"You've got that right 007," Q couldn't manage to keep the laugh in. "I have this, which may come in handy...it's a palm pilot, but with some modifications. Not only will you be able to keep track of all your sordid love affairs...you will be able to use the time delay micro-grenades. They are no larger than a button off your suit, but have enough plastique to blow through almost anything. You activate it by pressing the palm pilot pen here," Q demonstrated without actually touching it.

"I see," Bond said. "I suppose it has a finger print scanner?"

"Yes, and an infrared scanner...and last but not least, it fires hundred-thousand volts when you tap this button twice."

"Good I might just need that last feature," Bond smiled, "Q it has been fun, but I must go."

Morocco

Benefar's Grill

April 6, 1996

15:05 GMT

Bond always enjoyed Morocco. It was a fascinating city with so much history behind it and good food. Though it was hard to find a good martini around here. Bond tipped the waiter and left the restaurant. The air was rather warm and the sky perfectly clear as Bond glanced up at the stars.

The Gandi Crime Syndicate was well known to have its headquarters here in the city of Morocco, and Bond was quite familiar with it's leader--Jonas Blythe, a man in his forties, with gray hair, rough skin, and a sturdy build. Not the most pleasant personality, but then again Bond was not here to make friends. Bond waited for Blythe to show up--though he figured Blythe would probably send someone to bring Bond to him.

"Mr. Bond, right this way..." A man stepped from the shadows and motioned Bond to follow him. The man was quiet, but quite muscular and definitely a fellow Bond did not want to tangle with--unless necessary. The alley was dark, and damp--not the scenic route, Bond thought.

The man led Bond through a doorway and into what looked like a waiting room. "Wait here Mr. Bond."

Bond sat down and crossed his legs. A woman entered shortly after--very beautiful with dark hair and eyes. "Mr. Bond, here is your martini...shaken, not stirred," She smiled courteously and left.

Bond sipped his martini as Blythe entered the room, followed by what appeared to be his two bodyguards, which he quickly dismissed. Merely a control gesture, Bond thought. "Blythe," Bond stood up, "what has it been? Three years or so?"

"Not long enough Bond...but I do owe you, so let's get down to business."

"Ok, you never were one to mince words...It's in regards to Rudolph Pincer," Bond saw the expression of disgust on Blythe's face.

"That bastard is a dead man. He worked for me for a brief time, did you know? Then he stole from me...now he is dead on site."

"That's why I'm here. He is a traitor to England and MI6...my orders are to bring him in dead or alive. I thought perhaps you might point me in his direction or give me some sort of lead."

Blythe sat down across from Bond. "I understand he was your friend?"

"Depends on your definition of friend. I'm not here to discuss my previous involvement with Pincer. He stopped being a friend when he betrayed me and MI6. Now he is a mercenary for hire and only concerned with money and power. He is dangerous and must be stopped...and I am here to do just that."

Blythe looked almost sympathetic. "To kill a friend...I don't envy your position...but I understand it. The last time I had any intelligence on Pincer's whereabouts...it was rumored he was working out of Milan, Italy...of course I have sent men there to find him, so I'm sure he has changed locations..."

"Well, Blythe, I thank you for your time. I best be on my way."

"Bond, you ever in town again, let me buy you dinner at my cousins' restaurant."

"Thank you Blythe."

Bond returned to his hotel room. He was tired, but found the needed energy to peruse his files and databases on his laptop. Milan, Italy would be his destination in the morning. Perhaps his old friend had left something behind which would lead Bond to him, to end this once and for all.

Bond laid back on his bed and let his mind drift. He thought about Pincer's words...of course Bond had thought about the lack of money and respect that he deserved...but then again he was content with serving MI6 and country. Greed was what was driving Pincer--and anger too--to Bond his job was business. Greed never factored in with Bond--he considered it his duty to MI6 and country--even the world. Bond would sleep and arrange his trip in the morning. It was clear in his mind--Pincer would not stop, without being stopped. He would have to kill a friend--it was the only way.