Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for checking out my story! I am and have been for a long time a huge 007 fan and this is my meager way of making a contribution to the world of James Bond. I am and have also been since birth an American, so, although I will do my dead level best to get the British-ness correct, I am certain that British readers, or those more acquainted with the nuances of British English will spot my errors, of course all criticism is welcome and appreciated and that extends to the dialect as well, if you spot something of this nature, by all means point it out to me so that I can avoid the same mistake in the future. One last thing, although I stated that all reviews are welcomed, that is with one exception, out of respect for all parties, including yourself, please refrain from saying anything too nasty that does not pertain to the writing itself, we are all writers here and that is what interests us so let's keep to the topic. That said, please enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Salt. The air was laced with the distinct scent of brine, infused in the air by the nearby Caribbean Sea. This salt was joined by the salty smell of perspiration, emanating from the bodies of many a beachgoer, slicked in sunblock in the fight against the sun's searing rays, and losing badly. All sorts roamed this beach, teenage girls in bikinis frolicking in the waves, men too big for their too small speedos casually strolling down the coast, old women in hats redolent of great straw umbrellas, university students on one of their many breaks spending their parents money on drink and debauchery. Bond sipped his margarita, the sharpness of the salted rim made for delicious counterpoint to the tang of the beverage. He gazed out over the sea through the tinted lenses of his Tom Ford sunglasses. Glancing at his watch, he noted that they had only eight minutes before the scheduled meeting with the Frenchman.

Yes, they, thought Bond. A right inconvenience and utter waste of time in his eyes. The fact that he should even be asked to work with a partner on this assignment, much less the frivolity of the entire affair had set him on edge, and put more than a chill into the working relationship of 007 and 004. This mission had begun as any other, with a sit-down in M's office as he explained the pertinent facts of the case. Of course Bond was already up to speed on the majority of the current affairs deemed to fall under MI6's purview, which was indeed a vast array of international concerns. But with each mission came the necessary if somewhat tedious task of drilling down into the miniscule elements and sorting through them before taking to the field. Key players, motives, financial interests, interests of the Crown, what the Americans thought of the damned thing, oil interests, possible connections to terror and on and on ad nauseum. These meetings could drag into hours at times and Bond thoroughly hated them. And this was when it was only him, M and possibly Miss Moneypenny and occasionally Q when he needed a new contraption to carry on assignment.

But not this time. This time it was him and 004. Bond knew him professionally, from time to time, double-0s trained together, and of course there were departmental meetings that brought them all into contact, but the very role of a double-0 agent simply begged to filled by a loner. A man who could go days without conversation from another and be satisfied, if not happy about the solitude. There were few married men in the double-0 branch, and not many divorces either, in fact the division had the lowest divorce rate in the service, which had an admittedly high rate of marital dissolution. No these men were wired differently. Attachment to others, sentiment, sharing a life with another, these ideas did not figure into their calculations. Recognizing this, the Service rarely put two agents on assignment together due to the rather disastrous track record. But there were occasions which necessitated the practice and Bond hoped simply to avoid being put on one of these duos. But he could not avoid it this time. He had been requested by name. The Frenchmen had asked for 007 and another double-0 to meet him in Cancun and deliver him safely back to Britain where he could be protected by the Crown for the rest of his natural life. Of course MI6 had to first verify that he would hold up his end of the bargain. And so here Bond sat, scanning the area for threats, though none were expected. In the two days since he and 004 had arrived in Mexico, there had not been a whiff of trouble. No intelligence suggested any threat, but the Frenchman was jumpy, nervous, and had something that gave him enough clout to get the Service to agree to send two of its highest level agents to hand deliver him back to London.

Bond took another sip and another look at his watch. Only four minutes until they would meet him face to face. He had of course seen pictures and video of the man, heard recordings of his voice, so he knew more or less what to expect, but this was the first and hopefully only time they would meet as far as Bond was concerned. 004 sat down at the table. A well-muscled waiter came by and took his drink order.

A daquiri, thought Bond, dear God what a child.

004 was younger by some years than Bond, less experienced and less travelled. M had made perfectly clear on this assignment that he was to defer to Bond. Bond considered pulling rank and forcing him to order a man's drink, but refrained. Richard Tell, was his name, or at least the name Bond knew him as. When dealing with covert agents one never can know for sure. His longer mop of hair contrasted with bonds close crop, and his face appeared softer, his eyes kinder. But the appearance belied a killer instinct. Bond had read some of his mission reports. Like him or not as a companion, Bond respected hid record in the field, particularly for such a young agent. More than one head of a terror ring had met their death by his hand, and his exploits were not limited to the realm of middle eastern rabble-rousers. Bond finished his drink and looked at his Omega wristwatch. The Frenchman was late. He had gone to great lengths to arrange this meeting, changing the time and location multiple times in the last thirty-six hours, on top of requesting two double-0s. Bond took a harder look around, and after still discovering nothing out of the ordinary, he reluctantly turned to his obligatory partner.

"He's late." Bond said in monotone.

"He'll be here." Said Tell.

"He specified 2:00 pm in the last communication and we haven't heard a peep since then. It almost seems too quiet here."

"Relax, he'll show."

"Don't take that tone with me Tell."

"So he's late a little. He's French. They take three hours for lunch for God's sake." Tell dismissed.

Bond exhaled sharply through his nose and crossed his arms. He continued to scan the area. He had not felt his mobile vibrate, there were no texts from the Frenchman, Moneypenny, M, or anyone else. Bond was unarmed, or at least to the extent anyone such as bond could be, for his entire person was a deadly weapon. His hands and feet sharp daggers, wielded at the ends of his powerful arms and legs. His wit sharper than any sword, his indomitable personality a force of undiluted power and greatest of all in his arsenal, his cunning mind, deadlier than a sniper's bullet. But the lack of his trusty Walther PPK riding under his shoulder was for the first time on this entire operation a nagging concern in the back of his mind. And it was slowly working forward.

"Just now, did you come from the Casino?" Bond asked.

"Sorry?" Tell seemed confused.

"The Casino," bond repeated, clearly aggravated. "were you there?"

"Yes, I was scanning to see if I could find him, keep an eye on him. He didn't turn up."

"Hmm."

"But there's no reason to think he would've."

"Other than his known gambling addiction most likely exacerbated by the nerves, which must be on edge at the moment. You're sure he wasn't in the Casino?" Bond asked.

"I didn't see him there. I looked around quite a bit, so unless he's disguised. . . "

"He's not in disguise." Bond dismissed.

"No, I wouldn't have thought so."

Bond looked at his watch again. Almost ten minutes had elapsed since their scheduled time of meeting. He could not pinpoint the source of his concern, he knew it had to be more than the annoyance of working with a partner. But something was wrong. The man they were meeting was a high value intelligence asset seeking protecting from a multinational adversary, and was prepared to exchange a large quantity of harmful information to this multinational for it. He had been underground for some time, so that explained some of the safety of their arrangement, but Bond had expected at least the threat of trouble. But for two whole days the city had been quiet. Nothing had scanned across the radar, no threats had registered. Bond had grown so bored with the lack of action he had taken to the Casino last night and won about ten-thousand quid. Today had been no different. His mind raced to pick up some distant memory, some sense of unease, but aside from the burden of an unwanted ally, nothing came to mind. Tell interrupted his intense recollection.

"Perhaps he is going to alter the time of the meeting once again." Tell offered.

"He would've contacted us by now."

Bond pulled out his mobile. No notifications. He dialed the number of the hotel in which Tell was staying. The briefing had included all the usuals such as where he was staying, what he was driving, et cetera. M had warned them that any attempts to make contact in advance might spook the Frenchman, he was wound so tight. So they had kept their distance. But now it was time to locate this bastard and be done with the whole thing.

"Hello, Ritz Carlton Cancun, how may I help you?" the front desk answered in accented but beautiful English.

"Yes I'm calling to see if my friend is still checked in at your hotel. He is checked in under the name Marcel Robards." An alias, of course.

"One moment sir," a pause, and then: "He seems to have checked out less than an hour ago."

Bond hung up without a response.

"Gone. The man at the desk says he checked out less than an hour ago."

"Damn."

"You start checking the other hotels, I'm going to the airport. Call me if you find him. If not, meet me there. Bond ordered.

"Now hang on-"

"Listen to me Tell, we have a potentially compromised operation, there will be no hanging on. You will defer to me and you will do so this very instant or I promise you it will be a stupendous regret of yours for the foreseeable future. Now do your job and help me find this poor bastard before someone else does.

Bond walked away without a word, leaving no time for Tell to even blink a reply. He slammed the door of his rented Jaguar coupe and roared off.