The knife was dull, but it was all he could find to do the job. He should have kept the scalpel, but the metal detectors were enough of a problem to prompt him leaving it behind. It took another sharp dig before the tiny metal rod popped out. "Thanks, M," he muttered as he wrapped his arm back up. He stepped out of the alley and calmly slipped the tracking device into a passing jacket pocket. The owner of the jacket glanced distastefully over James' attire, but continued on oblivious to what had just happened. James smiled a little at the look. His clothes had been stolen from a local thrift store, so he stuck out slightly among the business suits. Certainly not his style, but when one was on the run one had to make sacrifices. When this was all over he'd buy a suit and have an expensive dinner on the company.

He had very little recourse. Assets were most likely frozen, which mean his passports were being watch and his credit cards were gone. Frequent security checks at the airports and train stations, cabby check ins. M might have hid the scalpel for him to find, but the rest was his responsibility and she wouldn't make it easy. By now a capture or kill order had been issued on his head. She would have had to.

Yes, his options were few. In fact, there was only one place he knew he could go.

The walk downtown took him two hours. Avoiding traffic cameras and the Underground left an unusual foot route that took him on rooftops and through alley ways. When he reached the apartment building he walked in behind a couple who had unlocked the door. There took the elevator and he took the stairs. Of course, she had to live on the sixteenth floor. Normally in excellent shape, the past two days had left him sedated, exhausted, and hungry. No food had been given to him. He was puffing by the time he reached the correct floor.

Her apartment door was still sealed with police tape, but there was no guard. It had been weeks since his time in Montenegro and Brazil, but Quantum remained an organization of which they had limited information, even after Dominic Greene's confession. Vesper was the only other person whom they knew with direct contact to the group. Therefore her apartment remained sealed.

James pulled down the tape and tested the door knob. It was unlocked. He cautiously walked in and glanced around the immediately vicinity before continuing in. It was a spacious flat with a large kitchen and a dining area to the right of it. Pristine white carpet and tasteful furniture filled the rooms. It seemed almost too perfect, but he had no doubt it was Vesper's doing. The fear of being marginalized was something they had shared.

He froze as he stepped into the kitchen. He wasn't alone.

"I'm surprised at you." Felix lifted the glass to his mouth and sipped the red wine. He was sitting at the dining table with the bottle beside him. "I thought you would have found somewhere less obvious."

James gazed coolly at him. "I didn't take you for a wine connoisseur."

His eyebrow arched in amusement. "I didn't take you for a sentimentalist."

The British tone hardened. " How did you know?"

"M gave me your file. I took a gamble." Felix stood up and walked towards him. "My boss wants you bad."

"I seem to be popular these days." He took the glass from Felix's hand and drank deeply from it.

"I didn't do it," he added as an afterthought.

"You'll never find them on your own. You'll be hard pressed to get out of this city as it is. M sent 002 and 009 after you."

"She has to keep up appearances, but I'm rather insulted. 002 is a drunk." He drank some more. Nothing had ever tasted quite so good.

Felix frowned unhappily and quickly pulled the glass back from James' grip. "You're butchering the wine. Here." He shoved a few hundred pounds into James' hand. "Get some food and some sleep. You look terrible."

"You've never been interrogated by Meyer Curtis." He slipped the money into his pocket and nodded his head in thanks. "I need to find who did this. What can you tell me about them?"

"Henry Larson and Orson Wallace?" He sat down on the crouch and shrugged. "Larson is very good at his job. He keeps Wallace clean. Keeps the press from harassing him. Keeps the wrong sound bites from reaching the evening news."

"So Wallace is a problem?"

"Not as much as you might think, but he's still a politician."

James frowned. "Then what's the angle?"

"There is none," Felix insisted. "Larson is a family man. No affairs. Clean work history. One stint in prison for possession of marijuana when he was nineteen. No recent death threats against the ambassador. No reason at all to kill the man."

"Whoever did this set me up personally for the fall. Why?"

Felix shook his head. "You've pissed a lot of people off. Revenge?"

James shook his head. "If they wanted revenge they would just come after me directly with a knife or gun. This is too risky. There is too much of a chance I'll get out of it. I can clear myself." He took a deep breath to calm his irritation. He didn't like it when events had no rationale. Even in a world as bizarre as his there was some rationale, whether it be power, glory, or revenge.

The silence bugged Felix. With a final swallow of the wine, he corked the bottle and walked back to the cabinet. "I'll do what I can, but you should be ready for the inevitable. There are no witnesses, no alibis, and no proof you are being set up. In all sense of the word, you are fucked. I'd get some papers together and find a nice villa in a non-extradition treaty country."

James pursed his lips tightly in thought. His life was based on a job he gave everything for. The mere thought of giving it all up for beaches and hula girls and small coconut drinks was so repulsive he began to wish he had killed someone. It was easier to escape the truth than prove it. "That's not an option," he told Felix. "I won't run."

"Yeah, well, big surprise there." He headed. "Get some rest and take a shower. I have to get back to headquarters. M has her own villains to fend off and I work for one of them."

"Keep an eye on her," James said softly. He caught Felix's eye and held it. "She needs protection. She's vulnerable." After the assassination attempt in Italy he had been especially cautious about her surroundings. The woman was seemingly fearless, a trait James strongly admired and detested. One day it would get her killed.

"I will," Felix promised as he walked out. He would keep that promise to James no matter what.


MI6 was quiet on the top floor. Most of M's agent had retired for the evening, but she was still in her office reading over the reports. There would be no getting around the evidence unless it could be proven falsified. The powers that be were clearly not accepting this alternative. It was prison or death for 007, options she refused to accept.

The secretary walked into the room with a soft knock on the open door. "Mum, I'm leaving. Shall I call Mr. Tanner to look over you?"

M waived her hand dismissively. "No, Penny, you may leave. Have a good night."

She smiled. "Of course, mum. This just came for you. Priority mail from the Defense Secretary's office." She set the document envelope down on her desk before closing the door on her way out. M stared long and hard at the packet with an expression of mixed irritation and dread. Anything from the Defense Ministry brought a whirlwind of chaos she would rather avoid at this time. There was too much at stake for some silly training exercise set up in the middle of bloody Africa again.

With a sigh she grabbed it and popped open the sealed tab. She poured the contents out on her desk. The first paper on top was a folded note in small type print.

You made a mistake. Now he will die.

Beneath the note were several black and white pictures taken from a rooftop looking into an apartment. She did not recognize the location or the sudden tightness of breath that overtook her as she looked at them, but she did recognized the shirtless man asleep on the couch. Each shot was a slightly better angle and focus until his peaceful face was front and center on the last picture. She had never before seen him sleep. It surprised her that he could look so peaceful after such a terrible day.

It was Bond.