Chapter Two
She had never been good at multitasking but now her life and his depended on it. Emma tried to remain silent and at the same time suck up all the air in the entire planet. She had lost her breath and her heels about a mile back. Jesus, did M hate her that much? Was it her comments on M being old? ….It must have been those…..
For someone who got up every morning and jogged for an hour along the Thames, she shouldn't be this tired. Though one could cover much more ground, running as she had just done. Emma looked around the alley her and the one called "Janus" had run into. Hopefully, they wouldn't be found in the alley. For nearly half an hour, the two of them had run as fast as their legs could carry them across the city of Paris. Apparently, Lord Byron was becoming more popular by the day. Or, more likely, M had lied to her with a smile on her old, wrinkling face. "I think we lost them….." Janus' deep voice was hushed to a whisper. His tiredness and lack or air betrayed him. A hint of a Russian accent painted the edges of his words.
Emma, more terrified than she had ever been before, just nodded. People always used the statement 'you almost gave me a heart attack' without really getting the blasted feeling. Now she knew how that saying had originated. The jolty, electric cold feeling in her chest was still as prominent as ever.
She turned around in Janus' arms and stared up into his eyes, searching for any hint of fear or surprise or concern or anything. It was becoming less and less startling that there was nothing there. Only the same neutral, stormy blue eyes.
With a huff, she turned back to where she had been. His arm was locked strongly around her waist. For a reason he didn't know or need to know at this point, from the beginning of this night, he had gained a sense of needing to protect this girl. Janus knew he wasn't one for love. He was 99.9% sure of it. Beginning at the time where he had begun his espionage career, all he felt for the opposite sex had been lust. To be truthful, he had given up all hopes of a normal life of marriage and children at the same time. It didn't feel like lust with this one. She wasn't gorgeous either. The girl was pretty, though she was plain. The shape of her face reminded him of the girls back in his homeland. Even though her accent placed her in England, Janus was sure her ancestry wasn't English.
"Listen to me……" Emma spoke into the air in front of her. "Your name is not really Janus…"
There was no reply, only silence.
She was about to proclaim herself a "mythology nerd" but since that was about #7 on the list of things not to say to a fine-looking stranger, she stopped herself. After everything that had just happened, she had her doubts about the man. "I took classes on mythology in college. Janus is the god of doors and good beginnings. It is not a name."
Thinking, Janus remained silent. "If I told you, I would have to kill you" would not be a good thing to say at this point. He would probably push the poor girl right over the ledge into insanity. "My name is Alexander. Janus is just a name used by my organization." The man sighed inwardly, "my organization" probably sounded just as frightening.
Emma chose not to ask about his "organization". "Um..Do you have any idea where we are?"
For all he knew, they could be in Spain by how much running they did. "Paris."
"Yes….I had gathered that, thank you." Emma gently pushed his arm off of her person. "Is it safe yet?"
"As much as I want to say yes, I don't know." Alexander took a few steps forward and peered down the passageway. It was too dark to see anything, but if it made her feel better…..He looked back at her. She was shaking and pale. The girl definitely looked worse from when they had first met.
Janus ran a hand through his thick black hair. If he wasn't endangering the girl by being so rash, he would be scouting his way back to his car by now. Reaching back, he grasped the gun he always kept hidden in the back waistband of his trousers.
Emma raised an eyebrow. She had seen all of this in movies and read it in books but these things didn't happen. The handsome Russian spy. The gun in his back waistband. The damsel in distress. She worked in an office building, maintained computers, did whatever odd translating job M16 needed her to do, and owned a small flat in the city. Spies weren't real life to her. Sure, she worked for the M16, but Emma disregarded these modern tales as simple fantasy and thriller, made for the telly movies. This would be a fun story to tell the girls next cocktail night.
"Come with me." Alexander held his hand out to the girl. "We need to stay close."
Emma stepped forward and was a bit shocked when he pulled her close to him again.
"I haven't even asked your name, have I?"
"It's Emma."
Not caring to put any effort into concealing his accent, Alexander spoke. "We should try to head out now." Without waiting for a response, he moved forward into the pitch black passageway, taking Emma with him. Thinking more deeply about things, he realized that Emma had been seen with him by Quantum agents. Janus looked down at the dark-haired brunette head and frowned. He would have to make sure she was safe before doing anything else.
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"Ma'am." James quickly answered his phone while trying to look up at the clock. Out of all the minutes of the day, M had to call him just as the Astronomical Clock in Prague went through its show at noon.
"You killed him, didn't you?"
"Who?" James scowled. Did it matter? He was a dead end.
"You know who! 003 would want to help M16 not have you run after his killer and then just shoot him! Why? Why did you kill him, Bond?"
James sighed. "He was uncooperative, a dead end. It doesn't matter. One less assassin to eliminate later." He chose to keep the mythology bit to himself. No need to make M and the boys back home go mental trying to figure it out.
For what seemed like hours there was silence.
"We lost her, Bond." The calm yet sorrowful female voice filtered through the speaker.
James was quite lost. "What do you mean 'lost'? Lost who?"
Silence.
James removed the phone from his ear and glanced at it angrily, like it and not M was withholding information. "M, who?"
"I sent another office girl to pick up a flash drive in Paris from a rogue agent. It had information on Quantum supporters such as addresses, phone numbers, and current whereabouts. I don't know who the agency employed to steal it, but Bond, they're good."
"Who did you lose!?" For M to admit someone was good, something had to be terribly, hideously wrong.
"The office girl, Bond. I thought I made that obvious. Either Quantum agents have her or the rogue agent has her. She isn't answering her phone, but from tracing it she is heading to the south of France. In a very fast moving car, I might add."
"And you are telling me this because?" James was making his way out of the thick crowd and out of the square.
"I am telling you this because I want you to find her!" M snapped at her prized agent. She needed something done, done very quickly, and James had to be in one of his moods. Typical. Just typical.
Walking steadily away from the clock, James creased his brow. "Why?" Couldn't they send someone else less important than him to take care of a foolish girl?
"Why? She is a civilian, Bond, not an agent! We can't just let this girl be slaughtered just because I involved her in this!"
James sighed and spoke a long, drawn out, "M." He spotted his car at the end of the street. "What did you do, now?"
"……I told her the flash drive was a present for my husband. And it's 'ma'am' to you."
Unlocking the door, James answered. "Get me a flight to Paris from Ruzyne International……And however did you explain how your husband wanted a flash drive?" Without waiting for an answer, he snapped the phone shut, got into a new Aston Martin and sped off in the direction of the airport. When people were stupid, James was there to save the day.
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"Get Cunina on this line. Now!" The roar of an engine was humming in the back of his head as he argued with an incompetent secretary. "Do you know who this is?" He gripped the phone angrily, doing everything in his power not to crush it. "I am Janus."
Emma watched him bark into the phone, quickly becoming tired herself with the rolling landscape of Burgundy. It was surely beautiful, but when it was this dark and her secret agent friend refused to turn his headlights on, there was nothing to look at. The dark hills and fields on either side of the road were not half as entertaining as watching Alexander nearly turn a cell phone into dust.
"Yes, you should be sorry…….Fine." He gave Emma a glance before devoting is attention to the road once more. "Do you have your passport on you?" Alexander looked at her again.
"I think so." She pulled her bag from the ridiculously small back seat of the coupe and rummaged through it. "I have it." Emma waved the small red book in the air before stuffing it back in her bag. Her black cell phone caught her eye and she picked it up. Flipping it open, the back lighted screen read "12 missed calls." She pressed a few buttons and the phone displayed the missed calls. All of them were from M. "Alexander," she whispered.
"Cunina?.....Yes, it's me……Quantum showed up…..I'm not hurt…." He glanced at Emma and told the person on the other line to hold on. "What is it?"
"M16 has called me 12 times."
"What!?" Janus sharply turned his head to her. "I'll call you right back." He shut his phone and put it back in his jacket pocket in one quick movement. "M16? As in the M16? You just work in the office, don't you?"
"Yes, I work in their office in London."
Emma watched his dark eyes become even darker. "You work for M16? Doing what?"
"I fix computers and file documents into the new system. I was planning to get enough reputation with the government to become a translator."
Alexander took a deep breath. Duh. Why else would they send her to pick up the information? An unsuspecting young woman wouldn't be suspicious. "How old are you anyway?"
She shot him a deadly look. What kind of question was that in their situation? "I'm twenty-three. How old are you?"
"Four years your senior." He reached for the phone in her hand, carefully keeping one hand on the wheel. Janus flipped it open and eyed the number. It must've been a private line; he didn't recognize the number. "Why are they calling? How do they know that anything has gone awry?"
"I don't know…….maybe I was supposed to get the ledger-even though I have clearly found out it is not one-and come right back."
He sighed. That was probably the reason. But it still made him slightly nervous. Was M16 looking for him? Did they know he had gathered the data about Quantum? "We might as well stop for the night." Abruptly, he turned his Audi off the road and into a small town.
Emma was worried. "Is it safe to stop? Do you think they're looking for us?"
"It's alright. We're in a touristy part of France. Route des Grands Crus. Road of great wines. Us and probably close to a thousand others are spending the night along this road." Alexander read the small sign along the street. Hôtel Bourgogne. The name was very cliché but it would have to do. He read the clock on the dashboard: 1:34. Janus hoped the hotel would be open. Driving into the small parking lot, he picked a spot and killed the engine. With a quick "here we are" to Emma, he got out and waited for the woman to follow suit. Once she got and walked over to him, he slinked his arm around her waist.
"To the hotel, we are a newlywed couple on our honeymoon."
Emma laughed and stared up at him. "Whatever you say." They walked in together and Alexander nodded to the concierge.
"Any rooms left, sir?" He led Emma over to the desk. "We went out for a drink and lost track of time." Janus' voice was smooth and sure.
As the concierge was used to English speaking customers, he found it easy to answer in English as well. "Just three rooms left. What is your name?" Kicking something underneath the desk, he booted up the computer.
"My name is Alan Forest."
"Cash or credit?"
"Cash." Emma shot him a look and he shot one back. He was paying. There was nothing he hated more than those petty arguments.
"How long are you planning to stay with us?"
"Just tonight."
The man fished under the desk for a key and then handed it to Alexander. It was an old metal key with a wooden tag hanging on the bottom. Room 27. "Just to the left and up the stairs. Checkout is at eleven-thirty. Enjoy your stay." He smiled at them as they walked off. Tourists.
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With an impatient sigh, James walked into the bistro on Rue de Orchidée Matin. He had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. And he was pissed. "Would you like something, monsieur? We will be closing soon."
Bond lowered his icy eyes at the small waiter. "Just some information."
"Information?" Backing away slowly, the little man eyed James. The night had been odd enough already.
"I was wondering if you have seen my sister and brother-in-law? He phoned me and said they met outside of this place." He watched the waiter closely, looking for any signs of recognition. "She's small, has a blue plaid trench coat, black hair, pale?"
"Oh yes! I remember them! And the man is very tall, yes?"
James nodded. "Tell me a bit more about him. I need to make sure it was them."
He gave the spy a look of question but continued on despite it. "He has dark hair, dark eyes, a suit coat and jeans?"
Bond let out a dry chuckle and sounded very unenthusiastic. "That's him! Do you know where they went?"
The waiter paused and began to look afraid. "Three thugs came out of the alley and chased them down the street." His eyes lit up and he looked as if he remembered something. "Your brother dropped his room key!"
James watched as the man ran inside the restaurant and then came running back with a square piece of black plastic in his hand. He gave it to James and smiled. "There you go."
James smiled even wider than the man and placed a few euro in his hand. "Good job, my friend." Without another word, Bond walked off examining the room key and wondering where in Paris the Hôtel Mérovée was.
He hailed a taxi and went to find out.
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To James' surprise, there was already someone coming to gather the rogue agent's things. That wouldn't do. Silently, he pushed the open door a little further. He took a few steps into the room, careful not to attract the attention of surely another agent.
Bond waited a few seconds, as the other agent dropped the suitcase by the bed and strolled towards the window. He could get a good look at him now.
The other agent was dressed in a nondescript black suit, and a white collared shirt. His skin was a warm brown and his hair was cut short and a darker brown. It was easy to see the man's muscles bulging out from his tailored outfit. James approved; it would be a well matched struggle. And not one to be attacked first, he lunged at the man.
As soon as Bond had tackled the man, he rolled over but not without kicking the British spy in the stomach first. James looked to his right, picked up a heavy lamp from the bedside table and proceeded to chuck it at his opponent's head. "Bugger.." He had ducked. With a loud crash, the lamp sailed through the window breaking the glass.
Now it was James' turn to be on the defensive. The other agent was lunging for him. James tried to dodge to the right, but it was to no avail. He was tackled at an odd angle and grunted as his hip slammed into the hardwood floor. A punch was thrown at his face and then another. That would hurt in the morning. The enemy quickly reached towards his back and when his hand came into view again there was a gun in it. James acted quickly.
Since he was pinned down, he sat up with force and head butted the other, catching him off guard. Bond got to his feet, lifted his opponent by the neck and held him against the bedpost. He turned his head swiftly to see the gun was now safely out of grasp and on the floor. Releasing one of his hands from the man's neck he drew it back and instantly gave an ugly black bruise as he punched him.
Bond let him fall to the floor than rubbed his hands together, satisfied the man wouldn't rise quickly. He took a wallet out of the man's pant pocket, a folder out of his inside jacket pocket, and a passport out of his front chest pocket. He would be staying in Paris for a little while.
He grabbed the black bag off of the bed, calmly slung it over his shoulder, walked out of the room and locked the door behind him. A young man came out of the room next door. He looked deathly afraid; he had heard the scuffle. James simply smiled. "Bonjour, monsieur."
He walked down the hall, ignoring the doors as they opened to see what had happened. Pressing the down button on the elevator, James fumbled through the other's wallet for some money. Once the doors opened, he stepped into the golden, mirrored elevator. Bond smiled as the door closed in his individual smart ass way. He pressed a button and was off to the ground floor.
A few pings from the elevator later and he was walking calmly towards the concierge at the front desk. "Express checkout please." The woman just stared at him, cuts and bruises covering his face, a button missing from his ripped shirt. She shook her head and did as she was asked.
James put on his charming smile. "Merci, madam." Once the process was complete, he walked out of Hôtel Mérovée and opened the folder. Unexpectedly, the orders were in Italian and addressed to a "Mantus." Bond frowned. Mantus was the Roman god of the Underworld. And he had a wife, Mania, goddess of the dead, undead and personification of insanity. James sensed he would be getting a revenge call from Mania sometime in the future.
Putting his focus back on Mantus, he pulled a driver's license out of the wallet and read the name. Mantus Acheron. The British secret agent frowned again. He had paid attention during his mythology classes in primary school. Acheron was a river that ran through Hades, the Underworld of mythology.
Sighing, Bond tucked the folder into his jacket and called M. He would need a nice new Aston Martin especially for France, wouldn't he?
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Thanks for the great review, devilwoman15. I always love to write M/James. I don't ship them though, if that's what you mean. (at least not in this fic lol) Thanks for reading too, I appreciate it. Happy new year btw!