4

The shark-like submarine dipped beneath the surface of the sea and disappeared. Under the waves, the conning tower angled upwards like a fin, its perfect displacement leaving almost no wake behind it. It swiftly dropped to 200 feet and became a ghost. The sleek, black shape of the Arkhangelsk now invisible in the nighttime waters of the Volga straits.

On board, the bearded man had changed out of his dirty blue overalls and was combing through the captain's belongings in his quarters. As he slipped on a silver signet ring, the door to the cabin opened and his second in command entered. He caught the flash of the ring and part of the inscription and was curious.

"What is that? Keepsake?"

The bearded man relaxed into an armchair and picked up a nearby glass, half filling it with Shustov and swallowing without hesitation. He rifled through a loose collection of papers absently.

"Mmm, old family heirloom."

Yuri stared at the portraits on the wall. The old Captain had an affection for post-Cold War politicos. The mini gallery read like a who's who of communist socialist ideology. Yuri, born a Muscovite and a product of the KGB's reign of terror had no such love.

"Forgive me but you do not seem the type."

The Submarine dropped alarmingly, then settled. Yuri anchored himself to the wall and fought the nausea. A sharp whistle and a voice came over the intercom.

"Now resting at fifteen hundred feet Commander, awaiting your instructions."

He stood and offered the bottle of vodka to Yuri who shook his head.

"Are you sure? It's good for the stomach." Another shake of the head.

The Commander shrugged and refilled his glass almost to the brim before downing it easily. The two of them left the stateroom and began to make their way to the bridge.

"Even men such as myself have memories, my friend. It just so happens I like to wear mine close."

"Like scars."

The bearded man laughed. "Yes, like scars."

The Russian puffed out his chest in pride. "I have lots of scars."

As they entered the bridge, the red tinged light suddenly reminded Yuri of a bad place from his youth. Somewhere he didn't particularly want to revisit. He closed his eyes and willed the thoughts away. By the time he opened them again, he was calm but found the Commander staring avidly in his direction. He asked the question he and the bridge crew most wanted answered.

"So what is the plan? Now that we have this..." He gestured as if searching for a word.

"This boat."

The commander took up a position at the centre station and ran a hand along the smooth surfaces of the consoles as if checking for dust.

"We've both been given a gift. I have been handed the means to enact a terrible revenge on those that have wronged me. You and your men have been given me." He smiled.

"And we have a sword, your boat Yuri, which we can ride together into the quivering hearts of our enemies."

The bridge crew looked on in awe at the giant of a man standing in front of them.

"I intend to ride this metal beast down their very throats and give them a taste of fear. The kind of fear men like ourselves have had to live with every day of our lives. We ll show them a new world. And if they don't listen, well we'll raise some merry hell." He raised a fist to the ceiling.

"For freedom."

The soldiers raised their voices as one in response.

"SVOBODA!"

The commander put an arm around his second's shoulders.

"But first I have to pay a visit to an old acquaintance. More memories, more scars. And then perhaps... perhaps we'll see South Africa."

Yuri raised an questioning eyebrow. The Commander smiled again. Only this time it reminded the Russian of a predator preparing to strike. The flashing teeth among the bristling white beard was most unsettling.

The Commander relaxed, his hand resting on the railing. Yuri stared at the ring on his finger. The words Orbis non sufficit shone clearly in the stark red light of the bridge.

-o-

A man in a terribly unfashionable tan suit entered Joe's Girls and gave a small laugh to himself when he saw the figure seated at the bar. Taking off his sunglasses and loosening his tie he sat and dismissed the tender with a wave of his hand.

"Felix Leiter. Well, well. Little early for you isn't it?"

Leiter's tone was friendly despite his loathing of the man. "Agent Falco, this is a pleasant surprise. Still letting your mother dress you I see?"

"Hilarious as always. Where's Bond? I kind of expected to find him here with you, hiding in a bottle."

"London last I heard. Why?"

"Why? I've got two stiffs cooling down in headquarters, John Doe's, that's why."

"Oh?" Felix was proud of himself, he sounded almost surprised.

"The thing is I've just been told not to investigate further. What do you make of that?

"Sounds like someone higher up is yanking your strings agent." This was almost worth it just to see Falco struggle, Felix thought.

"Cut the crap Leiter I wasn't born yesterday. I know this is Bond's handiwork. I know he's in New York and wherever he goes, trouble follows. He's like a magnet for weird shit."

Felix put down his drink and smiled. Six years ago Damien Falco had risen to the highest position in the FBI. After the incident with Colonel Moon, his career had gone from strength to strength. He had connections, Interpol, MI6, he was headed for great things and wasn't shy in letting everyone know. Then suddenly the rug was pulled from under his feet. Almost overnight he was a nobody again, bumped to working routine cases. He'd pissed off somebody, big time. Felix didn't need to think hard about who it was, some people held grudges.

"I've put out an APB on your friend, if he even so much as shows his face at a goddamn Kahuna Burger he's done."

Felix chuckled softly. "Falco, if Bond was in this bar you couldn't find him with both hands and the entire New York Police Department holding your leash."

Falco laughed a little too, trying to disguise his annoyance.

"That's funny. You're a real funny guy, Leiter. Yeah. Maybe I should take you downtown too, spend a few hours knocking that grin off your face."

Felix dropped all pretense and finished his drink.

"Damien, unless you want your career to end up in an even worse state than it already is, I suggest you let it go."

He rose and picked up his jacket.

"If you want my advice..."

"No I don't want your advice, Leiter." Falco spat. "I want Bond."

"Nevertheless I'm going to give it to you. Do what you're told. Don't get involved. If Bond is here and you get in the way, bad things are likely to happen."

He slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned away.

"Real bad things."

Falco watched him walk out of the bar and flicked peanuts at the mirror in frustration.

"Asshole."