Author's note: Hehe, barely finished with the last fic and already starting another one... When I heard that they were thinking about reintroducing Miss Moneypenny the idea just popped up in my head and was impossible to resist! Consider this story set after Casino Royale, and probably Quantum of Solace (though I haven't watched that one huhu!), but it wll be almost devoid of mention of both. That okay, folks? Anyhow, just tell me how you feel about it, all right? As usual, reviews are much, much loved! :D
Disclaimer: As always, I do not own anything in the Bond universe.
Chapter 1: The Informant
Istanbul, Turkey
It was half past midnight when the woman in the white trench coat and coiffed brown hair sauntered casually into the quaintly decorated lobby of Hotel Bakarza. She sat on one of the sofas and rested her black satchel on her lap. The sounds of a classical piano piece tinkled from antiquated speakers and the woman smiled when she realised that it was Debussy's Clair de Lune. She tapped her fingers on her lap according to the rhythm of the tune, as if she was playing the piano there and then. It brought back wonderful childhood memories, memories of security, warmth and honesty.
Now it was a man's turn to enter the building. He was tall, olive-skinned and wore thick-rimmed glasses. In one hand was a leather briefcase, in his mouth a lit cigarette. His presence was registered immediately by the woman, waking up from her reverie.
He spent some time at the reception desk before heading off and disappearing into the elevator. The woman waited a good fifteen minutes, then she got to her feet and took the elevator to the 3rd floor.
Room 305, Room 305. She located the room and knocked on the door. "Farouk?"
The door opened, and the tall man with the thick-rimmed glasses grinned at her with relief. "Oh, thank God you're here. Come in." As he shut the door behind her, he asked nervously, "Had any trouble finding the place? Did anyone follow you here? Were you seen? Did you see anything suspicious on your way here?"
"No, no, yes, and no," she replied, sitting on a Victorian armchair that was placed near the bed. She removed a laptop from her satchel and switched it on. "How do you expect to remain unseen when you enter such a public place like a hotel?"
He shrugged as he opened his leather briefcase and handed her a thin dossier as well as a pen drive. She plugged the pen drive into her laptop and copied all the files contained within it: pictures, videos and PDF documents. He watched her apprehensively. "Are you sure these will be enough to build a substantial case?"
"I hope so," she said, unplugging the pen drive and handing it back to him. "I'll get these back to the embassy right away. Hopefully they'll be able to do something about it, but I don't expect them to take any direct action." Finally, she could afford herself smile at him. "How about dinner?"
He laughed as he removed his glasses. "Oh I am hungry, all right," he leaned over and kissed her lips as she laughed against his mouth. "Hungry for you." He untied the belt of her trench coat and loosened her bun and trailed his lips over the exposed nape of her neck. Her laughs turned to sighs, sighs turned to moans as they undressed each other and made love in a flood of fluttery happiness and total surrender.
"I love you," he murmured into her ear when they both lay satiated in each other's arms, her head on his chest and her fingers stroking his belly.
She jerked her head up to look at him, her eyes wide. "Seriously?"
He touched her forehead with his own. "Um… yeah?"
She gave his head a playful push with her fingers. "Very funny. Haha." She slithered out of his arms, got out from under the covers and started to dress herself up.
"Okay, okay, I'm serious now," he said, sitting up. "I love you." He paused, then he said again, this time more sternly. "I love you."
She sighed and sat on the mattress, just within his arm's reach. He touched her cheek ever so gently, and she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She had never been lucky in love before; during her school days no boy had ever asked her to the annual school dance; even in university, the only relationship she had had lasted for only a week when it turned out that the idiot only wanted to approach her roommate; and in all her three years at the British embassy in Istanbul, the only man who had ever asked her on a date was her boss, and even then it was merely because he was having a tough time with his wife and he needed to look good at the ambassador's birthday dinner.
"What about you?" he asked, his black eyes wide with hope. She didn't dare say it, didn't dare commit herself to such a heavy promise. But then again, it would feel so good to be loved by someone, wouldn't it? She had dreamt of this moment so many times: a faceless man proclaiming his love for her, and only her.
But she couldn't. Not just yet.
"I'll have to think about it," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry, but you know – when we started this, we agreed that it would be just a fling… then you suddenly say that you love me. It's – it's confusing."
"I understand," he replied. He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "You know that nothing is ever stable in my life. I can be here today and be all the way in Japan tomorrow. But throughout this whole month, you have been the one constant in my life." He took her fingers and touched it to his lips as well. "And I like that. I like the idea of coming home, coming home to you after a long, tired journey."
She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she whispered, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.
"Well, you deserve it," he whispered back.
The smile remained with her even after she had kissed him goodbye and left the hotel room, her brown hair in a messy ponytail as she was too lazy to bun it back up. As she jabbed the elevator button, she realized that her hands were still jittery and sweaty. She gave it a good shake and stuffed it in the coat of her pockets.
Just then a man came up right beside her and pressed the 'DOWN' button as well. She snuck a glance at him: he was tall, but not as tall as Farouk, had closely cropped blond hair, and stood like a policeman. He turned his head suddenly, and she quickly jerked her eyes away. Embarrassingly caught looking at people again. Well done.
The sound of squeaky wheels caught her attention as it turned around the corner. Once again, curiosity caught the best of her and she couldn't help but watch as a male housekeeper wheeled a trolley full of cleaning appliances and a huge laundry bag. She smiled to herself. Housekeeping used to be a women's thing, didn't it?
And then it struck her: who does housekeeping at an hour like this?
The trolley stopped in front of a room. Room 305.
Why would Farouk call for housekeeping at a time like this?
Just then the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. The man who stood next to her entered it, and, upon seeing her staring openmouthedly at the housekeeper and his trolley, asked her gruffly in a British accent, "Are you taking this one?"
"Huh?" she glanced at him uncertainly. "Oh no, no, you go ahead. Sorry." Without waiting for a reply, she began to move towards the room she had just left. The housekeeper had unlocked the door with his key. He registered her presence and, to her surprise, pointed a gun at her and fired.
With a terrified scream, she threw herself to the left and out of the bullet's way. It smashed into a flower pot just behind her, sending fragments of clay showering over her leg. She looked up just as the housekeeper slipped into Room 305. Then it hit her. He was after the information.
And he was going to kill Farouk for it.
"No!" she screamed and ran for the door just as a bullet hit the door and was fortunately lodged into it, or it would have pierced her forehead. A huge, beefy arm locked around her neck and another hand pressed a cloth to her nose. It smelt of chloroform. She tried to jerk and wriggle her head away but it was no use. The smell seeped into her nose and she began to feel dizzy.
Just as her vision was about to fade, the cloth, and her assailant, was suddenly pulled away from her. She fell, the impact of her butt hitting the floor jerking her back to reality. Who? She looked up just in time to see the blond man who had waited for the elevator with her smashing his fist straight into the face of her assailant. She crawled out of the way, yelping in pain as he hit the floor, bloody face-first onto her left leg. The other man kicked the huge, heavy body out of the way, grabbed her hand and pulled her up so forcefully that she was frightened.
"What are you doing?" she shouted, albeit a little wildly, attempting to twist her wrist away from him, but he kept his grip tight. "Farouk – he's in there!"
"If you go back in there you'll be dead as well," he hissed back at her, his blue eyes glinting, and with a jerk of his hand he broke into a run, half-dragging her as well.
A spray of bullets erupted from behind them and she screamed as the man pulled them both to the side. Her knees buckled, but he dragged her up again, forcing her, pushing her to run. She turned around just in time to see him make a blind run towards the gun-wielding housekeeper and kick the gun from his hands. However, he was not fortunate enough to avoid a blow to his cheek, which sent him staggering backwards. But he recovered fast enough to snatch the gun out of the close grasp of the other man and shoot him directly in the chest. Another scream escaped from her mouth, which she smothered immediately when she saw the glaring blood stain where the bullet was fired into his otherwise clean white uniform.
Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes almost immediately as she realized that Farouk was most probably dead as well, killed by the fake housekeeper who was shot by the man who had rescued her. Mixed emotions tumbled inside her like a tsunami wave, and before she knew it, she was sobbing, sobbing from relief and from sorrow and from anger. She was the one who had asked to meet him, she was the one who wanted the information, she was the one…
"Come on," said the man who had rescued her, his face stained with another man's blood, some cuts and a smarting eye, shaking her shoulders to rouse her. "The police will be here anytime soon."
She couldn't reply, but she gathered enough sense and strength to get to her feet and follow him blindly as he led her quickly down the emergency stairwell, discreetly out of the hotel through the half-asleep kitchens and into the dark and dank back street. He asked her to sit on the pavement and wait for him, which she did without any protest. In a few minutes, he was back out with a backpack and a cleaner face.
He helped her back up to her feet. Police sirens wailed in the distance, and they were approaching fast. They exchanged glances: hers was one of helplessness and panic, his was of questioning. "My car's just down the street," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Thank you."
Dun dun dun! Well I think you can all pretty much guess who's who here! Do tell me what you think!
