A/N. Been thinking over my story a bit. I gotta say that writers block
strikes at the complete wrong time. I've been pouring over my three Bond
novels, searching for clues and inspiration. Anyway to make a long story
short I'm have rewritten these last few chapters. Nothing drastic is going
to change; I just want my Bond to have more of a Connery feel then a
Brosnan feel. Tell me if you like this version better than the original.
Sorry about he a/n. Read on.
Replacements
Bond was tired. It had been a long plane flight, and in bad weather. Still, he had a date to attend to. He checked himself in the mirror before straightening his tie and slipping on his jacket. The lines in his face were more prevalent now, he noted. "Old age will do that to you," he chided himself.
Before leaving the room Bond slipped into his shoulder holster, and checked the magazine in his Walther PPK. Everything was good. Out of habit he plucked a strand of his hair out and slid it into his top dresser drawer. Just in case. He looked in the mirror one last time first checking for a bulge where his gun was held and next combing his hair with his fingers. Age had been kind to the man. His hair still retained its black sheen, all except for the bit of gray creeping form around his ears. Moneypenny had told him that it made him look more dashing. Somewhat dignified.
He laughed to himself as he opened the door. Dignified. The door clicked shut and he continued on his way down the hallway towards the elevator. He fondly looked back on the days when walking down four flights of stairs wouldn't begin to hurt his knees. The female clerk behind the counter bid him farewell as he left the hotel. He walked into the rather full parking lot and searched for his car. It didn't take him long to spot the silver colored Aston Martin.
The French streets were crowded when Bond pulled onto the Highway. Cars everywhere striving to reach some far-off destination. As he drove Bond mentally ran through the information in his case folder.
He was after a man named Mordic. An Israeli, charged with, drug running, weapons smuggling, and piracy. Dark brown hair, short. A mole under his left eye and piercing dimples. Bond had made a point of memorizing the man's face as not to mix him up with someone else. His skin was pale for a Israeli, Bond noted. Wanted for the murders of over twenty Royal Navy servicemen. One of his yachts had decided to ravage a Destroyer. Fortunately for the Destroyer the yacht was quickly dispatched of. Unfortunately, by the time the boat had been sunk, the damage had already been done.
Thirty minutes after leaving the hotel Bond arrived at the specified restaurant. He pulled in at the front, where a maroon jacketed valet sat. The boy stood and opened the car door for Bond. "Take good care of her," Bond told him tossing the keys to him. The boy caught them and sat in the seat revving up the engine and parking it somewhere off in the distance. The inside of the restaurant was peaceful. It was dimly lit with dark reds, and deep purples adorning the walls. A man in the front looked up from the clipboard of reservations and caught Bond's eye. Bond had seen the man before, it had been a major section of the file, he was an assassin. Francois Gord.
"May I help you, Monsieur?"
Bond nodded and looked into the mans aquiline eyes. "I'm here meeting a woman. Her names Felicia Phelps."
"Yes. You must be Monsieur Bond. Best if we hurry, Madame Phelps is waiting for you."
Bond smiled. "Yes. Ms Phelps is a very impatient person."
Gord laughed. "The woman. They are all alike."
Gord lead Bond to a table where a very pretty brunette sat, looking a bit ruffled at his lack of punctuality. "Nice of you to make it, James," she said smiling up at him.
"Thank you, Monsiuer," Bond said turning to Gord.
"Do not mention it."
With that Bond turned and sat across from the beautiful Felicia Phelps. "I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
"Its quite all right," she replied, humor returning to her face. "Your getting old, I guess I can allow some slip-ups."
"There are still a few many things I'm not to old for," he retorted giving her a brillant grin.
"I had hoped."
The night progressed smoothly, small talk throughout. At long last, almost an hour after they had arrived, the target entered the building. He was wearing a dark gray buisness suit, an walked alongside another man also clad in a business suit.
"He's here," she said simply.
"Yes, it seems to be time to get things started."
Bond excused himself from the table and made his way over to Mordic's. "Excuse me, Mr Mordic?" Bond asked coming from behind.
Mordic turned his head. "Yes, I'm Mordic," he said with a wide smile. "You must be Mr Bond. Your employer informed me he was interested in making a business transaction."
"That is right."
Mordic turned to his companion. "I'll be back in a bit. Order for me if you will. Mr Bond and I have some things to discuss."
The man nodded, and greeted Bond with a hello. Mordic turned. "Shall we go outside Mr Bond?"
"That's fine with me," Bond replied.
The valet was sitting in a chair on the verge of sleep when Bond and Mordic exited the building. Gord would be after him soon, hopefully Felicia was ready to do her part. Mordic walked out among the parked cars where alongside him Bond walked. "So, Mr Bond. Your employer, explained that he was sending over a thousand kilos of heroin with you."
"That's correct," Bond replied. "He informed me, Mr Mordic, that you would give me a large briefcase full of money."
"That's what we need to discuss, Mr Bond. You see, I've decided that the previously stated amount of money is to much for the merchandise. Maybe we can haggle to find a better price?"
They were far enough away now, Bond noted, it was time to strike. In one swift motion Bond pulled his Walther PPK from its holster and held it in his right hand aimmed at the man's chest. "Get on your knee's Mordic." Bond commanded him lightly.
Mordic was obviously stunned by the sudden change in behavior and took a step back. "Mr Bond?"
"Get down!" Bond snarled.
"No Mr Bond. I think it is you who needs to 'get down'."
From the surrounding cars four men in black ghille suits appeared all armed with submachin guns. "You see Mr Bond, I have plans and dropping to my knees for a Brittish man doesn't fit in with them."
--
A/N. Well there's Revised Chapter one. I'll have Chapters 2-3 done by tommorow evening. 2 will probably be done tonight. Thanks for the support. Read and review.
Replacements
Bond was tired. It had been a long plane flight, and in bad weather. Still, he had a date to attend to. He checked himself in the mirror before straightening his tie and slipping on his jacket. The lines in his face were more prevalent now, he noted. "Old age will do that to you," he chided himself.
Before leaving the room Bond slipped into his shoulder holster, and checked the magazine in his Walther PPK. Everything was good. Out of habit he plucked a strand of his hair out and slid it into his top dresser drawer. Just in case. He looked in the mirror one last time first checking for a bulge where his gun was held and next combing his hair with his fingers. Age had been kind to the man. His hair still retained its black sheen, all except for the bit of gray creeping form around his ears. Moneypenny had told him that it made him look more dashing. Somewhat dignified.
He laughed to himself as he opened the door. Dignified. The door clicked shut and he continued on his way down the hallway towards the elevator. He fondly looked back on the days when walking down four flights of stairs wouldn't begin to hurt his knees. The female clerk behind the counter bid him farewell as he left the hotel. He walked into the rather full parking lot and searched for his car. It didn't take him long to spot the silver colored Aston Martin.
The French streets were crowded when Bond pulled onto the Highway. Cars everywhere striving to reach some far-off destination. As he drove Bond mentally ran through the information in his case folder.
He was after a man named Mordic. An Israeli, charged with, drug running, weapons smuggling, and piracy. Dark brown hair, short. A mole under his left eye and piercing dimples. Bond had made a point of memorizing the man's face as not to mix him up with someone else. His skin was pale for a Israeli, Bond noted. Wanted for the murders of over twenty Royal Navy servicemen. One of his yachts had decided to ravage a Destroyer. Fortunately for the Destroyer the yacht was quickly dispatched of. Unfortunately, by the time the boat had been sunk, the damage had already been done.
Thirty minutes after leaving the hotel Bond arrived at the specified restaurant. He pulled in at the front, where a maroon jacketed valet sat. The boy stood and opened the car door for Bond. "Take good care of her," Bond told him tossing the keys to him. The boy caught them and sat in the seat revving up the engine and parking it somewhere off in the distance. The inside of the restaurant was peaceful. It was dimly lit with dark reds, and deep purples adorning the walls. A man in the front looked up from the clipboard of reservations and caught Bond's eye. Bond had seen the man before, it had been a major section of the file, he was an assassin. Francois Gord.
"May I help you, Monsieur?"
Bond nodded and looked into the mans aquiline eyes. "I'm here meeting a woman. Her names Felicia Phelps."
"Yes. You must be Monsieur Bond. Best if we hurry, Madame Phelps is waiting for you."
Bond smiled. "Yes. Ms Phelps is a very impatient person."
Gord laughed. "The woman. They are all alike."
Gord lead Bond to a table where a very pretty brunette sat, looking a bit ruffled at his lack of punctuality. "Nice of you to make it, James," she said smiling up at him.
"Thank you, Monsiuer," Bond said turning to Gord.
"Do not mention it."
With that Bond turned and sat across from the beautiful Felicia Phelps. "I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
"Its quite all right," she replied, humor returning to her face. "Your getting old, I guess I can allow some slip-ups."
"There are still a few many things I'm not to old for," he retorted giving her a brillant grin.
"I had hoped."
The night progressed smoothly, small talk throughout. At long last, almost an hour after they had arrived, the target entered the building. He was wearing a dark gray buisness suit, an walked alongside another man also clad in a business suit.
"He's here," she said simply.
"Yes, it seems to be time to get things started."
Bond excused himself from the table and made his way over to Mordic's. "Excuse me, Mr Mordic?" Bond asked coming from behind.
Mordic turned his head. "Yes, I'm Mordic," he said with a wide smile. "You must be Mr Bond. Your employer informed me he was interested in making a business transaction."
"That is right."
Mordic turned to his companion. "I'll be back in a bit. Order for me if you will. Mr Bond and I have some things to discuss."
The man nodded, and greeted Bond with a hello. Mordic turned. "Shall we go outside Mr Bond?"
"That's fine with me," Bond replied.
The valet was sitting in a chair on the verge of sleep when Bond and Mordic exited the building. Gord would be after him soon, hopefully Felicia was ready to do her part. Mordic walked out among the parked cars where alongside him Bond walked. "So, Mr Bond. Your employer, explained that he was sending over a thousand kilos of heroin with you."
"That's correct," Bond replied. "He informed me, Mr Mordic, that you would give me a large briefcase full of money."
"That's what we need to discuss, Mr Bond. You see, I've decided that the previously stated amount of money is to much for the merchandise. Maybe we can haggle to find a better price?"
They were far enough away now, Bond noted, it was time to strike. In one swift motion Bond pulled his Walther PPK from its holster and held it in his right hand aimmed at the man's chest. "Get on your knee's Mordic." Bond commanded him lightly.
Mordic was obviously stunned by the sudden change in behavior and took a step back. "Mr Bond?"
"Get down!" Bond snarled.
"No Mr Bond. I think it is you who needs to 'get down'."
From the surrounding cars four men in black ghille suits appeared all armed with submachin guns. "You see Mr Bond, I have plans and dropping to my knees for a Brittish man doesn't fit in with them."
--
A/N. Well there's Revised Chapter one. I'll have Chapters 2-3 done by tommorow evening. 2 will probably be done tonight. Thanks for the support. Read and review.