The guard at the security check of the MI6 headquarters in London glanced down at the photo in his hands on a pink UK driving license. A woman with a blond ponytail stared back at him through grey eyes. He glanced at the woman in front of him. Wavy brown hair brushed to one side perfectly coiffed and sharp grey eyes narrowed slightly. Civilians do not visit this building and she did not look like the photo. Who would dye blond hair brown? he thought. And what the hell does she want?
"What's your business?" he asked, eyebrow raised, hoisting himself up in the chair.
"God's sake, I have a meeting with the director. I've been here before on numerous occasions so check in the system." She snapped, glancing at her limited edition Cartier watch, eight hundred. She pulled out her phone. "And you are answerable to him for my lateness."
The guard frowned. He didn't like her one bit. Imperious, pompous in that perfect Received Pronunciation and that expensive-looking black suit. But he waved her on, passing her a visitor badge that tracked movement through the building. Whatever business she had with the director, she doesn't look like a terrorist. She quickly dumped her bag onto a tray and passed through the security gate, hurrying on.
There was one thing that Isabel Hansen hated more than anything. And that was lateness. She couldn't tolerate it in others and she hated when she was late. Nothing spelt tardiness and disrespect more than lateness. And she was late to see the new director of MI6 – Gareth Mallory. It wasn't that she didn't know him, as a matter of fact, they were very familiar with each other. But this was an official meeting, and she wanted to keep her firm's contract with MI6. After all, it was a very illustrious one with a good sum to top it off.
Hansen hurried through a carpeted hallway into the antechamber of the director's office. Everything was paneled with dark rosewood. Old fashioned and distinctly different from the modernity and brightness of the previous headquarter. Typical Mallory. She felt a slight twinge when she thought about the old director – M. Hansen always thought of her as M, in her mind, it was like an acronym for mentor, maybe even 'mother'. But she was dead.
Never dwell too much in the past. That was her motto. It sucks you up and never lets you go, she thought bitterly.
"Miss Moneypenny?"
She greeted Moneypenny. A curt nod and a raised eyebrow.
Moneypenny stood up and smiled.
"Ah, he's ready for you."
Another nod.
Mallory's office was the same as outside but surprisingly smaller. Dark wood panel. Luxurious leather gave it a rather somber atmosphere. The man looked up from the table which was piled with black folders. He was perusing one in front of him with his legs stretched under the desk. His left arm hung in a sling.
"Ah, Hansen. How have you been?" he drawled, standing up. "Do take a seat."
"Congratulations on your posting, director. I hope your arm is better?"
"Could have been much worse." Mallory tilted his head slightly, catching her eye for a moment before looking down at the file and sitting down. She sat down too.
"Oh, and Mallory would be just fine, 'director' is a little too stuffy for us. I have been looking at our contract." He paused, waiting for Hansen's reaction.
Just another raised eyebrow and a slight nod.
"And your conclusion?"
"Your firm, Erebus Intelligence Services, has been our sole contractor during my predecessor's time in office?"
Hansen stared at him mildly. There was an accusatory note in his tone. So he was questioning her firm's abilities?
"Yes, that is true, we have also submitted detailed reports of operations as directed by MI6." She answered. M had been the person that allowed her firm to flourish by giving Hansen her largest contract. In return, she personally oversees the successful completion of assignments from MI6. If Mallory didn't want Erebus here, then a loss for him. "This arrangement has reduced costs for overseas operations in the long run. Also the wellbeing of operatives carrying out your assignments would fall under my liabilities instead of MI6's."
"I see, and you report directly to the director?"
"Yes, we liaise with MI6 operatives if necessary under the director's orders. It is a beneficial arrangement for both parties, I must say."
Hansen looked at Mallory across the desk. But his poker face was hard to decipher. He leant forwards slightly.
"I have no wish to terminate this contract, Hansen."
She smiled slightly, but only a twitch of the lips. Nothing that could betray how important this contract was to her. It is very costly to run a private military firm, especially one that dabbled with intelligence. From wages, to medical fees, to family compensations to bribes. 35 million pounds was on the line and it's safe. For now.
"And the reason you called me here is for an assignment, I presume?"
"A delicate one at that. I don't want a written report, nothing. Discretion is key."
She raised her eyebrow again, she said dryly, "Discretion is my middle name, Mallory."
He passed her a file, too allowing a ghost of a smile to pass over his face. It was a personnel file, heavy and marked with a confidential stamp in dark red across the cover. Hansen opened it. A picture of a man was taped on one side. Blond hair. Strong jaw. Blue eyes. Quite handsome. Below was the text:
Name: James Bond
Codename: 007
Double – oh agents were the top agents in the MI6. Ruthless and efficient. Seemingly charming on the surface and always, always, good looking. Suddently, she knew what Mallory wanted. With emphasis on discretion, he wants double – oh – seven to the monitored. But why? Maybe a mole? But they are background checked the most.
This was no easy job. Monitoring an agent who was always alert was not easy. It would take weeks and it was take people. Her people were never as good as a double-oh agent. She needed about 10 at least for round the clock surveillance. She looked from the file to Mallory.
"You want Erebus to monitor one of your best agents?"
"Yes. Immediately." He looked back at her. "As sharp as ever, I see."
Hansen inwardly groaned. It means she has to take four of her best operative at tracking from the field. Her firm's entire schedule would be off track.
"May I ask why?"
"I realize that it would be slightly presumptuous. But this is an urgent matter for MI6. And considering that we are your biggest client…" He glanced at her slyly. "My predecessor's violent death may have impacted on Mr. Bond more severely than I liked."
M's death had been a shock to her as well. They had been quite close and Isabel Hansen owed her. But if Mallory thought he was so affected he couldn't perform his duties, he could always keep him in the office or on leave.
"But I cannot keep him on leave because, as you said, he is our best agent and he is needed for purposes of national security. I am asking you to do a favour of sorts."
A favour? Hansen thought silently. There was a knock on the door. She turned around. Mallory paused, distracted, before calling 'what is it?'. Tanner poked his head in.
"Mr. Bond is here, sir."
"Tell him to wait for a moment." Mallory answered, annoyed. He turned back, "I'm sending Bond to Iraq and I want you to go with him, as I said, a favour,"
At the mention of Iraq, Isabel Hansen could not control her involuntary flinch.
"That is a favour I cannot agree to. But I can send operatives to monitor him and for support." she replied, stiffly.
"It's the same people who killed him, Isabel, in Iraq."
He slid another file across the desk. She took this one with shaking hands, but didn't open it. Mallory muttered into his telephone. The door opened.
"Double-oh-seven, sir."
Hansen stood up and turned around. Her persona fallen back in place around her like an aura or a shield. Slowly, she noted down Bond's features dispassionately. Not dissimilar to the photo. Strong jaw. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Slightly tanned. Medium height. Strong build. Neatly pressed black suite. Carefully fitted.
"How's the arm, sir?"
Very neutral voice. A perfectly blank expression.
Mallory glanced at her before replying. "Getting better. Ah, and this is Isabel Hansen. She is one of our contractors."
Flashing him a slight smile, Hansen offered her hand.
"Nice to meet you, double-oh-seven."
He shook her hand, firmly, smiling.
"Nice to meet you too, Miss Hansen."
She turned back to Mallory, handing him back the file on the mission to Iraq, unopened.
"Thank you, director. I'll keep that in mind." He nodded briefly, before turning back to Bond.
Isabel Hansen suddenly felt small and afraid. Never dwell too much on the past. But maybe she had broken that rule far too many times than she can count.
"Are you ready for duty, 007?" Mallory passed him a file.
"With pleasure, M, with pleasure."
But that expression on his face was empty. A little too empty. God damn that woman, he thought, she needs to be convinced to follow Bond to Iraq. Mallory could have sent another agent, but he doubted they would be any effective. As much as he hated to admit, he has still to take that leap of faith in themm. On the other hand, Isabel was someone he could trust. His second-in-command again.
Bond was rarely seen around Q section. He was a double-oh field agent, Q section members usually pays homage to him with gadgets or new prototypes, maybe with the exception of the head of department - Q. So to see the agent winding his way through the multitude of desks and equipment attracted a lot of head turning. But he didn't seem to notice. He headed straight to Q's office, not even knocking before he was standing in front of the man's desk. Q was poring over his laptop oblivious to the agent.
"Q!"
Q held out his left hand to halt him, his other hand still moving furiously over the keyboard.
"Just a moment please."
When he finally looked up, Q's face was scrunched.
"Double-oh-seven? What are you doing here?"
"Can you send someone's file to me?"
"That's easy. Who?" Q answered unfazed, closing a command box and opening another.
"One of MI6's contractors. Her name is Isabel Hansen."
"Okay, just a moment." His fingers worked furiously over the keyboard. He turned his monitor towards Bond. "Is that her?"
The picture was of a woman with a blond ponytail in Army service uniform. Another picture was her brown hair pulled tightly back glancing at some point off to the left of the camera. It seems to have been taken from a larger picture of a group of people in a desert area. And she had changed the uniform for a dark pantsuit. The gun in the holster was quite evident from beneath her black suit jacket. The posture of unmistakable, feet slightly apart, head high, even in those heels he saw her in today. Nothing cried military more clearly. But the eyes were unmistakable. Grey with flecks of green. Piercing, hard, unnerving. And old. Bond nodded.
"Hmmm, Isabel Jane Hansen, 41, former Major in the Army, second-in command to Gareth Mallory. They were both in Defense Intelligence. Interesting. Father, deceased, was MI6 as well. Owner and director of Erebus Intelligence Services," Q muttered as he scrolled through the electronic file.
That explained some of the familiarity between Mallory and Hansen then. Maybe it went even further. Bond idly wondered if Lieutenant Colonel Mallory ever bedded Major Hansen. She was quite good looking, even now.
"She was recruited by MI6 during her time in DI. Codename 011. Worked in Hong Kong. Before as an interrogator in a classified op in Iraq."
"Iraq?"
"Yes, looks pretty serious. Captured for two months by a rogue arms trader. She was put on leave for six months after for severe PTSD."
"Can you get the file for the operation in Iraq?"
More furious typing. Before he could pull up the file, Bond already had a good idea. The arms trader was still alive and he was 007's new assignment.