Disclaimer : James Bond belongs to Ian Flemming and the Brocoli clan.
A/N : My first and only fic in english. I thought it would be good to have a little fun in the Bond verse. Enjoy. English isn't my first language (I'm french), so be lenient.
Happy Mirthday !
After all, it was only fair retribution, M thought as she went regally in her office. After everything he had done to her ! There were times when she really missed the Cold War. In those days, a worthy agent would never have done things like this.
Not that he did bad work. On this point, he was irreproachable. She would never have kept him otherwise. Since he had been promoted double O 8 months ago, he had carried out one big mission – le Chiffre – and 3 shorter ones. He had been caught one time, all agents were, it was inevitable, but he had escaped alone and with information which made them able to take great steps in their fight against the opposite side (or one of the opposite sides, since things weren't that simple).
In London, he was efficient, with enough experience to make the newbies work (and work well, so told the instructors who praised him for his inventiveness, and she would discreetly gnash her teeth ; anyway, he had now more patience and was less impulsive). He got on well with his colleagues, and had been a good loser when 005, the only woman, had dumped him. Technically, his work was faultless. In short, in all these points, there were no reproaches to make.
But frankly...
Hack her computer, God only knew how, to find her name and address ? He had.
Break into her house ? Again.
Use her name and passwords to find information he couldn't theoretically have access to ? Again.
Have sent her for Christmas (discreetly, she had to concede) some detective novels for her collection (how much time did he spent in her flat, for God's sake ?) ? And again.
The three first came from his training and she couldn't really blame him for it, but the books, it was too much.
She had every right to let him know what she thought of it. And the occasion was suitable for that.
So, with a smile who would surprise a lot of her associates, she sat down before her computer and typed the password which would grant her access to the camera one of Q's employees had put the night before. Her victim should be coming from the shooting range in a few minutes.
The face he made when coming into his office rewarded her generously from her troubles. He examined the package from every angle, especially the note supposed to come from the "gate" which tracked bombs and hazardous substances. Did he suspect the card was false, for the packet, made entirely in Q's workshop, never went out of the building and so, by means of physical laws, could never have entered it ? And he knew the date, so he had every right to be suspicious.
At last, he was reassured and opened the box. Seeing the Palm cramped in its protective polystyrene, he looked surprised, then amused and even really delighted. He pulled it of the packaging, put it on and scrolled through the notice left by Q with this little smirk which put Moneypenny in a deplorable state. He turned the Palm over to look at something and suddenly turned his head, his eyes were drawn by a glint.
Entertainment was over.
He found nearly immediately the camera hidden in his desk lamp. Seeing there was no mike, he just mouthed "Thanks, M. I wonder what Q would think of this" before disconnecting the wire.
Well, sheltered by his status of irreplaceable genius, he had remarked to her that she never had attentions like this for another agent.
Never mind. Revenge was worth a birthday present.