2
James Bond sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair and read the letter for the sixth time that morning. He pushed an empty whisky glass absently with his finger, staring at the neat handwriting until the words began to bleed together and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to clear them. With his eyes still closed he brought the paper to his nose and inhaled, he thought he detected the faint trace of jasmine perfume, so familiar.
He ran a calloused hand through his dirty blonde hair and turned his attention to the envelope. No return address, no stamp. Hand delivered earlier to his hotel room. Who knew he was staying here of all places? He was supposed to be invisible, off the radar. M would have kittens if she knew. But the letter. This letter. This was going to be a bitch to explain. And if it was true, well, best not go there yet old man, thought Bond. He lit a cigarette and thought about the only possible course of action left to him.
"Dammit Celia!"
The phone had been ringing for a full minute by the time Felix Leiter had finally gotten through the door of his office and answered. "Leiter residence." He half expected the person on the other end to have hung up and was surprised but relieved at the sound of the pleasant English voice.
"Good morning, hope I didn't wake you."
Felix relaxed in the oversized leather chair and waved a hand to signal his secretary through the large window.
"James you sonava gun, how you doing? Nah I just got in, I was dropping the kids off at school."
"How is the family? Well I hope."
The secretary entered and he mouthed the word coffee to her.
"They're good, Cedar misses you. You should visit more often"
"And face your wife's wrath? I've still got bruises from last time."
"Oh she loves you really."
"Not to mention facing her cooking, if she loved me so much she wouldn't keep trying to poison me Felix."
"Hey I'll remember that the next time I think about inviting you to thanksgiving dinner."
This was unlike Bond thought Felix, normally he balked at small talk, it was usually right down to business. The harsh truth hit him like a slap in the face and he bit his lip to keep his voice from sounding angry at his friend.
"Listen, not to seem ungrateful but why are you calling here of all places? It's not like you to ring me at work."
"I need your help Felix"
The tone on the other end of the line was frightening. Felix couldn't recall hearing Bond sound so upset.
"My help? What can I do?"
"Off the record you're about the only person I trust right now. Listen I'm in New York, can we meet?"
"Half an hour, buy me a drink and I'm all ears."
Felix placed the phone on the receiver and scratched his untidy beard. As his secretary entered carrying a steaming mug he got to his feet and slipped on his overcoat.
"Celia, hold my calls, I'm just popping out." He paused. "On second thoughts… you're doing fine, just leave it ring off the hook some more."
She apologised with a minute shrug of her shoulders and backed out of the room.
He took a mouthful of coffee and gagged.
"Oh I've got to get a new assistant."
Bond hastily scribbled down the address of the bar and hung up the phone. He picked up his travelling rucksack and quickly threw in the few belongings he had. As he reached for his jacket on the back of the chair he suddenly froze. The long seconds ticked by, Bond hoped he was mistaken, but the letter had already confirmed it. As if in response, from outside the room came the unmistakable sound of a creaking floorboard again. Shouldn't have used the phone, stupid! He cursed mentally.
By the time the hotel door exploded inwards Bond was already diving towards the bed. Two men rushed into the room and trained their pistols on the pivoting figure but too late, their silenced shots hitting the empty side of the mattress where his body had been. Bond had reached the pillow and in a blaze of motion spun around to face them, Walther in hand. He dropped the first intruder without thinking. Mechanical and cold, death became second nature and he dealt it like a deck of cards. As the second man squeezed off another shot, Bond felt time go into slow motion and instinctively ducked to the left. The hotel's shabby lamp shattered in a shower of porcelain. The intruder didn't get the chance to fire again, Bond's next bullet hit him between the eyes and he went down heavily.
There wasn't much time to check the bodies but he gleaned immediately that they were professionals, no tags on the clothing, no wallets, not even a pack of cigarettes. Their method of entry, almost perfect. Any other man would be dead. He threw his gun into the rucksack and made for the window and fire escape. As he was halfway through he remembered the letter and doubled back to the desk.
This is turning out to be one of those days he thought as he clambered down the steel steps and into the alleyway below. By the time he heard the sirens Bond was already three blocks away, he hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of the bar and the promise of a tip if he made it there in 15 minutes.