II.
Three measures of Gordon's Gin, one of Vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet (which is not Vermouth). Shaken well until it is ice cold and served with a large, thin slice of lemon peel. Six of them.
That fiasco in the harbour was completely unacceptable. If one man could wreak that much havoc, he was certainly one to eliminate if at all possible. Dominic Greene could not afford to have a dangerous element get that close to him. Although he hadn't been after Greene in particular – Dominic had no idea why the man would go to such lengths to take that woman away from the general's sweaty palms – he knew that it would only be a matter of time until this agent, whomever he was working for, interfered in the organization's plans. Dominic would deal with that shortly; at present, he had something to attend to before he made his imminent departure from Haiti.
"Have the guard from the front gate brought in," he instructed Elvis, his cousin and right-hand man.
The guard entered a minute later, and Dominic waited for him to pass onto a floor rug before motioning for him to stop.
"I understand that you stopped a man at the gate, and that he wanted to speak with the woman that was here. And you didn't think to report this immediately?You were hired to keep this area secure. Unfortunately, I must inform you that you are hereby discharged."
Dominic turned to his desk and gathered up the last of his papers into a small briefcase. He barely flinched when the gunshot echoed through the warehouse. With a click of the lock, he turned back around and walked around the lifeless body that was slumped on the floor.
"What would you like for us to do with him?" Elvis asked in French.
"Wrap it up in that rug, weight it, and toss it into the water," Greene ordered. "Get the other men to do it – you and I are going to be late for the flight. The CIA probably lack the patience to wait more than five minutes."
The chartered flight to Bregenz, Austria gave Bond time to think. Too much time, in fact. He found that his mind continually went back to Vesper, and that had all the pain of a raw, open wound.
In an effort to be preoccupied, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the identification card from the woman at the quay – he had slipped it from her purse during that encounter in the car. Camille Montes. It was evident that Greene wanted her out of the picture; why didn't she try to kill him instead of the man on the boat?There was always someone awake at MI-6. James snapped a photo of the card and sent it along to be analyzed. A minute later the information returned. It appeared that Ms. Montes had been in the Bolivian Secret Service, though was no longer active with them. There wasn't much on her, but he was confident that she wasn't a member of Quantum.
At least he had one card still in play. Now that he had a direct lead on Dominic Greene, there was a good chance that he would in turn lead Bond straight to the rest of Quantum. By the time he was done with that shadowy group, those people would have to find a new place to meet…
The young woman rolled over in bed; something had disturbed her sleep. A ringing sound prompted her to turn toward it and fumble for the source of the disruption. Peeking out of a half-opened eye, she picked up her phone and checked the caller I.D. – it was work.
"Hello?" she said groggily.
A woman on the other end answered. "Good morning, Fields. I woke you up, didn't I?"
"Yes, so I hope that it was worth calling me on my day off."
"The consulate just received a call from the Foreign Secretary. It seems as though they have an intelligence officer that needs to be sent back to Britannia."
"Why can't they send one of their own to deal with him?"
"Apparently it would be more expedient for us to do it. In any case, the consulate cannot spare any staff at present, so I've been asked to contact you to meet him at the airport."
"It's my day off! Are you sure that there isn't anyone else?"
"I'm afraid not. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. You'll be compensated for it, if that makes you feel any better."
"I guess…"
"I'll send you the details and a photograph so that you can spot him quickly. Actually, you may have a change of heart when you take a look at his picture."
"Really?"
"Oh, something else you should know:his flight arrives in about twenty minutes."
"What?!"
"You might want to hurry, because you have to pick him up immediately."
Fields leapt out of bed. It would take her nearly that long just to get to the airport even if she called the fastest taxi driver she knew. There wasn't even going to be any time to get dressed. She glanced at herself in the mirror and grimaced – what a way to make a first impression! Hastily running her fingers through her hair with one hand, she brushed her teeth with the other. She hadn't taken off her makeup from yesterday, but it wasn't that smudged. Fields next threw on a trench coat on over her camisole and panties, and shoved her feet into a pair of leather boots. There was no time to get her purse arranged, so she snatched her wallet, cell phone, and keys from the table and stashed them in her pockets. She took one more look in the mirror before dashing out the door – hopefully no one would suspect that she wasn't properly dressed...
He immediately noticed the woman marching purposely towards him as he and Mathis walked out of the arrivals area of the airport. How could he miss her?The woman's hair was bright red and styled in a cute bob. Aside from her trench coat and boots, she didn't seem to be wearing much else. James couldn't help but wonder just how short her skirt was, and how any government office would allow its staff to dress that way.
"Mr. Bond, my name is Fields. I'm from the consulate."
"Well, of course you are," he replied with a bit of a smile. "And what do you do at the consulate, Fields?"
"That's not important." She struggled not to look him up and down. The photo she'd received hadn't quite done him justice – his eyes were very blue. "My orders are to turn you around and put you on the first plane back to London."
"Do those orders include my friend, Mathis?"
She sent a passing glance in the other man's direction; it was going to be hard enough to handle Mr. Bond on his own, let alone his companion. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," she said curtly.
Both men strode out of the terminal, exchanging banter. They did not seem to have the slightest intention of following instructions, and were instead hailing a cab.
"Mr. Bond, these orders come from the highest possible authority."
"Fields, when is the next flight to London?" Bond asked.
"Tomorrow morning."
"Well then, we have all night."
She ignored the flirtatious remark and continued talking; "If you attempt to flee, I will arrest you and drop you off in jail and then take you to the plane in chains. Understand?"
He opened the taxi door for her. "Perfectly. After you."
It was obvious that she would not be able to let Bond out of her sight. The consulate had arranged for him to overnight in a local hotel, but at the rate things were going, she would likely have to take a room as well. Fields hadn't started to become anxious until Bond did an about-face out of the selected hotel. He directed the taxi straight for the most posh hotel in La Paz, and immediately selected lavish rooms to accommodate Mathis and himself.
Fields stood stiffly at the entrance as Bond roamed around the black and white suite, seemingly searching for something.
"I can't find the stationary. Will you come and help me look?" he asked.
Fields let out a laugh, but followed him into the bedroom. She would help him find stationary anytime.