Chapter 1

Operation: Midas

Hamburg, Germany
0185 Local Time

The squat six-story building was not much to look at. It was a dull gray and designed in a manner that made it look like a concrete block placed upright. It was on the outskirts of the city, where the metropolitan Germany gave way to the old rural German of the past. A sign on the side of building read Hamburgische Münze. It was the Hamburg Mint, one of three locations that was responsible for printing and distributing the currency of Germany. A mile away, a craft moved seemingly silent through the air.

To the average eye, it would appear as a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter. The only major differences between this chopper and the Black Hawk design were twofold: this craft's outside paneling was a black metal alloy that made it invisible on radar and nearly any other electronic devices. The second difference could be found in the chopper's rotors. The stealth rotors made a relative whisper of the normally loud noise that accompanied any helicopter. Only a small handful of people in the world actually knew how many of these stealth helicopters existed. This one in particular had been stolen six months earlier from an American military base in North Carolina. Virtually invisible and unheard, the chopper slowed and began to hover above the roof of facility. Doors on opposite sides of the helicopter slid open, ropes falling from the openings and hitting the flat rooftop.

Two by two on each side, a dozen black-clad figures slid down the quick rope to the roof below. They were all clad in the same gear. Black combat boots with black tactical pants and shirts, black kevlar body armor on their chests, and black ski masks on their faces. They each had black M4 carbines in their hands. Ten of the shocktroopers appeared as men of average height and build. The only two stand outs were very noticeable. A large man, 6'6 at least, led the way across the roof. He was nearly as wide as he was tall, with a chest nearly the size of a barrel. At the very back of the group, a skinny figure in baggy clothes trailed behind. This man was maybe 5'5, the combat boots giving him a few inches of height.

The chopper flew away quietly as the twelve troops approached the side of the roof. The giant held out a hand and motioned towards the edge of the roof. Two men hurried up and slammed spikes into the roof. They attached nylon cables to the spikes and tossed the cables over the side. Waving a hand forward, the giant and his little friend stayed in position while the rest of the men took the two cables and began to slowly repel down the side of the building two at a time. Halfway down, the two men in the lead stopped at a row of windows and pulled round devices from their belts. There was a single yellow button on the black face of the device, a sticky epoxy on the corresponding side. They slapped the devices on the glass epoxy first. Trading a glance and a nod, they pressed the buttons on their devices at the same time. The windows here were rigged with alarms. Any attempt to break or cut into the glass and it would sound. That was where their tiny gadgets came in. They couldn't hear it, but a sonic pitch emitted from the devices and vibrated the glass of the window. The vibration was so fast and unstable that it turned the window's glass from solid to nearly a liquid.

The two men tested the glass, their hands going through the window without a problem. They signaled the men above and swung through the unstable window into the office on the other side. One by one, the ten men came through the glass without feeling the glass on their skin or tripping an alarm. The ten shocktroopers formed into two five men lines as they carefully navigated through the dark office. They way they had it timed, they had just come through the window not ten seconds after the security guard had made his rounds through the office. There were cameras, but the nightwatch was patrolling and not looking at the footage. Who cared if they saw them after the job was over? They wouldn't see anything of consequence, just ten men in all-black with weapons pulling off the greatest robbery of all time.

The two leaders of the columns stopped and held up their hands to stop their men. In front of them was a workstation terminal with a six servers underneath it. The leader of the group held his wrist-mounted microphone up to his mouth and broke radio silence for the first time.

"У меня в наличии," he said in Russian.

"Выполните планируется," came a gruff voice reply over the radio.

Nodding, he waved one of his men forward. The man came to the computer and pulled a USB stick from a pouch on his pants. It was larger and bulkier than most jump drives. The thing that caught someone's eye that it was different was the two wires running from the back of the USB drive and to a small motherboard attached to the stuck. The black-clad soldier found a port and slid the stick into it. He activated a switch on the motherboard and watched as the screen of the computer flashed on. Numbers and code speed by on the screen for about five seconds before it went to black.

"Данные загружены. Выезда," the leader said into the radio.

The soldiers turned and began to head back the way they came, but they stopped in their tracks as a sound came through the office. Somewhere, a door was opening. There was the sound of footsteps and the jangling of keys. Before the team leader could order, an older man in the uniform of a security guard came around a corner and right into the men.

"Was zur Hölle?" he shouted, stepping backwards. He pulled the pistol from his holster as the ten men opened fire on them with their suppressed weapons. The bullets made the guard jerk like some sort of perverted ragdoll. His body jerked as he fell, his finger spasming around the trigger of his weapon on instinct. The gunshot broke the quiet German night, the bullet striking one of the men just in the stomach below his kevlar vest.

"Ебать!" Shouted one of the men as his compatriot crumpled to the ground. The team leader ordered the rest of the men to hurry and move out. A shrill alarm sounded as he looked down at his wounded man. He put him out of his misery with three quick shots to the head. Sighing, he followed the rest of his time back through the unstable glass and up the cables to the roof. The stealth chopper was back hovering above the building. The team hurried up the ropes and, five minutes later, they were already ten miles away from the Hamburg Mint.

Inside the hold of the stealth helicopter, the men watched as their small leader railed into them in Russian. The men had been berated for their slowness and ineffectiveness. The berating only stopped when the men produced the USB drive. Their leader nodded and removed the ski-mask. Underneath the dark wool was a beautiful woman with her raven black hair tied up in a bun. She pulled a pair of glasses from her pocket and inspected the jump drive before pressing a second button on the motherboard.

"Number 3 to Number 2," the Baroness Anastasia Cisarovna said into her satellite uplink. "We lost a man, but we recovered the data. I am uploading it to you now."

"It was not perfect," a deep voice in an Italian accent replied in her ear. The communication link was private and for her ears only. "You and your pet giant finish the job. Leave no links to these Russian criminals and yourself. From there proceed as planned."

"Yes, sir. Number 3 out."

The Baroness took a deep breath and leaned back in her seat. The men around her didn't know it, but the gigantic man to her right would soon kill them all. It was partially the plan, but she wanted their deaths as slow and agonizing as possible. She wanted them to know SPECTRE's price for failure, that death would be a walk in the park compared to the punishment they would receive. But that would come later. For now, she could bask in her temporary victory and know that the first part of Operation: Midas had done its job.

SPECTRE's most audacious plan yet was now underway. She had set into emotion a series of events would end up bringing Europe to its knees. The Baroness smiled at that thought. After having to suffer at the hands of those who were more fortunate all her life, she was now turning the tables. She leaned back and began planning which country she would end up buying with her money.

London, England
0821 Local Time

The black Aston Martin DB9 drove through the rainy streets of London. The traffic on Horseferry road was moving along faster than its normal pace. This time of day in this part of the city, it was very lucky that there wasn't twice as many cars out on the road. The weather was potentially a factor. The DB9 rode over Lambeth Bridge. Victoria Tower was in the distance to the car's left. After a few minutes of driving, the car came to a closed off parking garage that led down. A sign beside the closed metal door said Universal Exports. The car's driver punched in the code to the garage door and drove through after the door was open. The Aston Martin went down into the garage and found a spot marked 7. The engine off, the door swung open and out stepped James Bond. He dressed in a charcoal gray suit, onyx tie, and black leather shoes. He wore a brown rain coat and carried a briefcase in his hand as he walked through the garage. Clipped to his chest was an identification badge that said he belonged in this facility.

He went through the checkpoints and security stops before finally coming out into the office space on the building's fourth floor. Known to the world at large as the headquarters of international trading company Universal Export, this was the headquarters of MI6's Overseas Development Group. The name was for the number crunchers and budget men. Overseas Development Group looked dull and boring. Section 00 could potentially catch someone's eye and raise questions. The building was only four blocks from Vauxhall Cross and an ideal off-site location to house the 00 agents. There was a shooting range, an armory, and an obstacle course below the garage level to help the 00's keep up their form in times where they were inactive from field duty.

Bond was going through a time such as this. It had been nearly six weeks since the incident in Dubai. In that time, Bond had acted as head of ODG. The rule of thumb was that one 00 had to always stay in-country to manage the office and consult and offer advice to Six on any ongoing ODG operation happening abroad. Bond didn't mind the time off too much. He had whiled away the days and weeks with a Danish woman who was in the city modeling for some boutique fashion designer. Her English wasn't great. It limited their conversations, not that it bothered Bond. He had found her stimulating in areas other than conversation.

"Good morning, Goodnight," he said as he approached his office.

"A year in, and I still haven't gotten tired of that joke," quipped the tall and slender blonde woman standing beside his office door. She gave him a kind smile and took his briefcase.

Mary Goodnight was Bond's personal assistant, a role she had been given a year ago when Bond had been given 00 status. She was ten years Bond's junior and breathtakingly gorgeous in a natural way. She was the polar opposite of the Danish model Bond had spent his nights with. Whereas the model spent hours primping and preparing to look good, all Mary had to do was wake up. If she had worked anywhere else, Bond would have already made a pass at her. But she was his PA. He recalled a saying he had heard in the Royal Marines in regard to dogs. "Don't shit where you eat," was how it went. Although Bond was a man, he tended to follow the advice. But, Bond thought, seeing as the reputation he had perhaps the metaphor of a dog was an apt one.

"Anything I need be aware of?" he asked as he took his raincoat off and hung it on the coat rack beside his door.

"Overnight traffic from 00's, nothing marked Flash/Urgent. Also, Vauxhall Cross needs to see you as soon as possible."

"Who rang?"

"Miss Moneypenny."

Bond sighed. Moneypenny meant that it was M who needed to talk. He wasn't looking forward to going back out into the rain, but there were an upshot or two. If M wanted to see him, it may mean he was back on field duty. Plus, he would get to see Moneypenny. From where he was sitting, the pros outweighed the cons. He smiled at Goodnight as he slipped his raincoat back on and took the briefcase from her hands.

Almost an hour later, Bond was in M's office. They were watching footage from a security camera on the wall-mounted monitor. The black and white footage showed ten black-clad figures with assault rifles sneaking through a dark office building. The men came to a computer terminal and one man proceeded to start some sort of program.

"Thoughts?" M asked as they watched.

"They're professionals," said Bond. "Look at their formation and tactics. They're experts at this. Methodical and well-trained, not to mention the technology they seem to have used. Where was this video taken?"

"Hamburg. Two days ago, these ten men broke into the national mint there."

"Money?"

"No," said M. He looked away from the screen and made eye contact with Bond, his grey eyes meeting Bond's blue-grey. "Something more. They took files. The complete details and specifications of the Euro, specifically the five, one hundred, two hundred, and five hundred banknotes."

"I thought they used plates for that or some other sort of thing?"

"They used to," said the old man as he leaned back in his char. "But it's all going digital now. The Euro has security codes and watermarks all through it that make sure its authentic. Those files were like a bloody road map on how to print them."

"Can't the EU just create new ones and reprint them?"

"Yes, but you know how much time and effort that would take, Bond? Billions of dollars are in circulation at the moment. They've begun work on new security measures, but by the time they'd be done and ready to print it will be much too late."

"The UK isn't in the Eurozone. What's Six's stake?"

"Personal favor to the commissioner of Interpol," he grunted. M tapped his right fist on the desk, his university class ring chattering against the desk's rich wood. "We're doing a separate investigation alongside theirs. I want you on it."

"But my duties here at Universal Exports?"

"I'm recalling 006 from Egypt. That operation seems bust, and Wisdom could use some time to recharge his batteries."

"Fine by me," Bond said, trying to hide his excitement. Hunting down counterfeiters wasn't an ideal mission, but it was a job. "Where do I get my start?"

"Belarus. One of the robbers was killed in the fighting along with a security guard. Interpol says he was a criminal from Minsk with the name of Zus Shulman. Part of a ring of criminals... guess what they do..."

"Counterfeiting?"

"And the boy gets a cigar."

M leaned forward in his chair, putting his hands together and preparing to speak. This worried Bond because this was the stance M took when he prepared to deliver less than thrilling news.

"There is one caveat," he said cautiously. "You're going to work with a partner."

"Who?"

"Someone from SHIELD."

"Why?" Bond furrowed his brow. What did SHIELD have to do with this?

"The Americans have been quiet about it, but it seems that they were hit in the same manner last week. At a mint in California. Someone stole the layout of their hundred-dollar bills."

Bond did his best not to roll his eyes. This was the third time he would have to clean up America's messes in the last year. First the mobile warheads in Mumbai, then the rogue American colonel, and now this. He could have sworn he worked for the British government as a secret agent, not as personal custodian to SHIELD's messes.

"Is it that man I worked with in India? Dugan?"

"No. SHIELD sent an agent who has experience in Russian matters." M reached out and hit the intercom on his desk. "Send her in, Moneypenny."

There was a buzz and the door swung open. A red-haired woman sashayed through the office. Bond and M stood as she approached them.

"James Bond, this is Natalia Romanova of SHIELD. Ms. Romanova, 007."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bond," she said in a light Russian accent. She shook Bond's hand.

"All mine," he replied.

Bond kept a neutral look, but inside he was grinning. On the trail of dangerous and deadly criminals with a sexy Russian secret agent at his side. The only downside was that their destination was Eastern Europe in cold weather. Bond wished that these counterfeiters had been from the Bahamas instead. He had no doubt Agent Romanova would look amazing in a bikini. Oh, well, he supposed. All things considered, he could certainly think of worse things in the world he could be doing.