Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to James Bond or Quantum of Solace, or anything else related to this material of which I written about. All rights are reserved by the original owners.
Author's Note: This story has been in the works on-and-off for over 3 years, so I'm pleased to finally release it. I really like Quantum of Solace, not only as a follow up to the events of Casino Royale, but also for the things they did with Bond's character. There's so much that is unsaid that happens in this film, and this fic is essentially a re-write that gets into Bond's head a little more, as well as some of the other characters. My goal was to show a more human side to Bond; he holds everything in, and his emotional state starts bleeding into everything he does. At the same time, it's still rather aloof - this is James Bond after all, are we ever going to know what makes him tick?
I.
Ab irato: from an angry man or, "by an angry person"; used in law to describe a decision or action that is detrimental to those whom it affects and is motivated by hatred or anger instead of reason.
It seemed like he had only been in Haiti for seven minutes when he'd tracked down Slate's hotel, Slate's room, and the knife-wielding Slate himself. But that was already over and done with. James Bond shrugged on a black jacket he found in the room and dabbed the blood from his face. It would take a while for the staff to find Slate's body, and by then Bond would be long gone.
MI-6 had tasked him to track down a sinister organization known only as 'Quantum'. With the attempted murder of M back in Italy, this mission had become even more personal to Bond. Of course, there was also the matter that Vesper had been attached to the group through a man named Mr. White. By tracing his currency, the secret service had found a courier by the name of Slate, thus bringing James to the Caribbean nation.
A quick stop at the front desk yielded a silver attaché case – he would have to examine it somewhere else. James had barely gotten a few yards from the door when a small car sped up to the curb. The driver, an attractive young woman, looked at him pointedly.
"Get in," she ordered.
It was obvious that she had been expecting someone, but didn't know who exactly to look for. James stalled a moment so that he could check the surroundings. "What?"
"Get in," the woman repeated, her tone was impatient.
He got into the car and she accelerated.
"You're late."
"I got pulled into a meeting."
"Who with?"
"A friend of Mr. White's," he replied, saying the name to test her.
"Don't think I know him," she said carefully, then took a closer look him. "It's funny. You don't look at all like I expected."
"Really? What were you expecting?"
"I didn't think geologists looked so…"
"So?" James prompted. He smiled a little at what she wasn't saying.
Her eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror. "Friend of yours?"
He looked over his shoulder and spotted a man following them by motorbike. "I don't have any friends."
The woman instantly sent the car around a few corners to lose the tail for a few minutes. She stopped partway down an alley so that they could finally talk business.
"We didn't settle on a price," she told him.
"Make me an offer."
"We can work it out later, over drinks."
James was a little surprised at her straightforwardness – she wasn't wasting time in a long-drawn seduction – and the fact that he would've used a similar line.
"Dominic didn't give you any trouble, did he?" she continued.
Finally a piece of information; he needed a last name, but this was a start. "No," he replied, opening the case and passing her a document.
The woman flipped through it quickly, the whole thing was blank. "What is this?" she asked, annoyed.
James lifted up another document to reveal a handgun and a photo of the woman currently seated next to him. "I think someone wants to kill you!" he said with a laugh.
He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Catching her arm, he redirected the bullet's trajectory out the open car window. Their eyes locked a moment, before he bailed out of the vehicle and she sped away.
"That wasn't very nice," he muttered.
By this time, the man riding the motorcycle had caught up with him. He pulled up alongside James, looking confused. "You were supposed to shoot her!"
"Well, I missed," he replied, before knocking the man clear off the vehicle. That woman was his only link to Quantum, and someone wanted her gone. He raced after her on the newly acquired motorcycle, dodging the bustle of the streets that led to the docks. His cell phone started ringing. This was not the time to have lengthy discussions with Vauxhall; M wanted to know about Slate, their only lead to White. Slate was a dead end.
James arrived at Kings Quay in time to see his asset striding to a building on the far side of a guarded gate. She would have to come out eventually. He halted the motorcycle nearby and watched the scenario from afar.
A couple minutes passed and she reappeared, talking with an uninspiring-looking man. Whoever he was, he was undoubtedly in charge, as everyone else appeared to be either a guard or minion. The man led her toward the edge of the dock, where they peered down into the water. Whatever was down there wasn't good; even from a distance James could see her body stiffen. More dialogue passed between them and Camille wrapped her arms around the shorter man. It seemed as though she was trying to get back into his good graces, but he wasn't buying it. If he wanted to get rid of her, it wasn't likely that he would stop after that failed attempt.
James went to the gate and gave the watchman an innocuous business card to pass along to her. He knew that the camera had gotten a good shot of him, but he had to make contact; he was confident that he could turn her.
Next on the scene was a white speedboat coming from a posh yacht farther out in the harbour. Its owner, a man of South American features came ashore to talk with the man James assumed to be this Dominic the woman had mentioned. When they had concluded their business, Dominic introduced her to the other man and sent her with his entourage, and a henchman wrapped his meaty hand around her arm in a vice-like grip.
There wasn't much time before the speedboat returned to the yacht. James drove through stacks of crates, looking for the fastest route to the water. Racing through the loading zones and off of the dock, he roared across large boat and crashed onto a second one. In the wake of commotion he'd caused, James slipped onto an unoccupied motorboat. Deftly piloting it through the other boat traffic, the moment the white speedboat came into view, he revved the engine and slammed his craft straight into the other.
Before anyone had a chance to react, James jumped onboard and was a little surprised to see the woman pull a gun out from under her skirt and aim it at the South American. There wasn't time to analyze the situation though; he swiftly hauled her into another nearby motorboat. A shoulder check told him that the men from the speedboat were already in pursuit, along with backup. He clutched the steering wheel and put the engine into full throttle.
The woman leapt up beside him, looking furious. "What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted.
Some appreciation for saving her skin. "You're welcome."
"You idiot! Take me back!"
"You know, maybe I'll do that later."
She lashed out, trying to hit him but he easily caught her arm; the hard part was struggling with her and piloting the boat at the same time. Finally it seemed to sink in that he wasn't out to kill her.
"You're not one of Greene's?"
The last name he'd been waiting to hear. "Dominic Greene?" Before she could reply, several rounds of bullets tore through the air. "Get down!"
Another vessel sideswiped them and they were turned around, exposed to a barrage of gunfire. Camille was ready when they came past the boat – she swung a board into one of the men. At least she was helping now. James accelerated, speeding through the harbour at a dangerous pace.
Camille was at his side again, yelling to be heard over the roaring engine. "Give me the wheel!"
"Navigate!" he said in return.
Thankfully she took directions better than she did being rescued. "Left!"
The spray of water coming from the bow shielded them view long enough to get past more of their pursuers, who were crunching several other boats in the process. James swung the craft around, now heading directly for two oncoming boats.
"What are you doing?!"
"Hold on!" he hollered, and told her to hit the deck.
Ramming one of the boats at full speed gave him enough time to come around and demolish its outboard motor. One down, one left. The other craft was far too fast. James cut power, instantly slowing their speed. The black motorboat crashed into them and wedged itself up on the stern. The impact threw both of them down, which was where James found a large, three-pronged hook. He threw it into the other boat and pulled tight, puncturing the inflatable part and sending it skyward.
James wasted no time in getting clear of the area, looking back several times to make sure that there was no one else chasing them. It was strange that the woman hadn't jumped up again; he glanced back to find her lying unconscious at the bottom of the boat. At least she wouldn't be asking questions. Eventually he came to a resort loaded with sun-seekers and docked there with a tremendous spray of water. He took a moment to check the woman's head and neck for any serious injury. Finding none, he picked her up and climbed out of the boat. On the dock, James spotted an attendant and got the man's attention.
"Excuse me," he said, then unceremoniously deposited her limp body into his arms. "Thank you. She's seasick."
The staff would take care of her until she came to; hopefully she'd have a bit more sense when she awoke.