Chapter Six: Assignment GoldenEye
Tanner was on the phone. M was sitting in her seat, growing impatient. Bond was sitting patiently, playing solitare with a deck of cards he found in a drawer. He currently had half the cards uncovered. Suddenly, Tanner put the phone back on the pad.
"Well?" M said, standing up.
"Our satalite just stopped working. Same with two of the American's CIA satalites. Another of ours is being repositioned as we speak, and will be online shortly. From what we can tell, an electromagnetic pulse weapon was used. After it happened, a Russian satalite orbiting in the vicinity of Severnaya left orbit and floated away."
"GoldenEye," Bond said, bundling the cards back up.
"We believe so," Tanner said, finishing up his statement. As soon as he finished, the screen came back on with the image of Severnaya. What appeared was a shocking sight. Two of the three MiGs that had been on course to the base had crashed into the groupings of false huts and shacks that adorned the area around the dish. The third had crashed into the dish itself, destroying a great deal of landscape in the process. No electronic lights were on in the entire area, which was standard with electromagnetic pulse.
"God in Heaven," M said, walking over to the screen. "What happened there?"
"Electromagnetic pulse would disable any electronic circuit within the target radius," Bond answered, placing the deck back in its box. "Those three MiGs would have had no chance. The pilots probably died directly upon impact."
"Especially the one who hit the dish," M said, tapping the screen and walking back over to her chair. "This is most disturbing."
Natalya got out from under her desk and looked around. The chaos was the first thing easily evident. Beams and pillars down everywhere. Fires were raging all over the main floor. A good deal of the ceiling was gone. Snow was flittering down into the room.
She walked around and saw her friend Anna, her chest impaled by one of the girders which had fallen. At least she was already dead when it happened.
Natalya walked back to the terminal beside the exit and said her name. Nothing happened.
She started to cry. There was no way out, now. Her friends and coworkers all dead. There was little she had left. Her family lived half the country away from her current location.
Natalya looked up and saw more and more snow falling through the hole in the ceiling. The satalite dish had fallen through the ceiling. The dish was a normal satalite dish, covered with cross-hatching mesh designed to filter all the transmissions directly to the GoldenEye satalites.
Maybe I can use it to climb out... she thought.
She grabbed onto a part of the dish which was about a foot over her head and hoisted herself upwards. It was a long and tedious climb to the top, but she got there. At one point, a piece of the mesh broke off and she nearly slipped, but she got back up.
It had gotten colder since she was last outside. A storm was kicking up. Choppy winds and gusts of icy snow were hitting Natalya hard. She almost wanted to go back down into the bunker, but that would be the stupidest idea she'd ever had.
A noise caught her attention. It was coming from a tree line sixty yards away. She looked over and saw a dog sled and dogs. The musher was feeding them.
"Hello!" she shouted, hoping the man would hear.
He turned her way. "Hello there!"
Oh, thank God...
Bond watched as the figure climbed the dish and made their way to the surface. Whoever they were, they were very, very lucky.
"Bond," M said, catching his attention. "What is it?"
"Some one just climbed up the dish."
"What?" She rushed over to the screen and saw the small outline of the person running towards the woods some yards away. "Who are they?"
"Quite possibly some one who was caught up in the attack. It wouldn't be the traitor themselves, they wouldn't have stayed there for the fireworks."
"How do you know that."
"The Pirate," Bond looked at Tanner, "you said it was electromagnetically shielded. If the GoldenEye was an EMP weapon, the Pirate was the best way to steal anything needed to use the GoldenEye again. Destruction of the base makes it seem as though the only facility needed for the GoldenEye was destroyed, and therefore there would be no reason to use it again."
"You think whoever stole the helicopter stole the necessary equipment to use the GoldenEye because they have a satalite capable of using it?"
"Well, I doubt they'd steal the helicopter because it looks good."
"Are you talking the Janus group?"
"Onatopp is a member, she stole the helicopter. I doubt they'd go freelance for some other terrorist organization."
Tanner finally spoke up. "If that were the case, what's Janus' motive?"
"Maybe we'll find out soon."
M said, "Sooner than that, 007. I want you to track down Janus and stop them. Even if Janus isn't behind this, taking them down will give us whoever did."
"Well then. I'll need a flight to St. Petersburg, and some equipment."
"Your flight will be arranged as soon as possible. Stop by Q Branch on level 10 for any equipment."
Bond stepped into the Q Branch laboratory on level 10 and saw a good deal of people working on a good deal of things. One in particular was rolling around in a wheelchair, telling people what to do. Bond walked toward the man, but was spotted by him within seconds.
"Ah! 007," the man said as he wheeled over to him.
"Major Boothroyd, I presume," Bond responded.
"Correct. Please, pay attention to some of the equipment here." Boothroyd stood up out of his wheelchair and walked over to a table, where three people were working on what looked like a belt. "Oh, and don't touch the wheelchair."
"Is it on loan from a friend?"
"No, if you depress either of the pads on the arms, a rocket hidden in the legging will fire."
Bond laughed. "Quite a handicap, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed." Boothroyd held up the belt. "This appears to be a typical leather belt, correct?"
"I suppose it's some kind of laser or something?"
"Please! We reserved that for your watch. This is a rappelling cord, designed to fit your weight."
"Mine?"
"And only yours. If you're carrying anything but minimal equipment, or even another person, the rappelling function will be useless."
Bond picked up the watch sitting on the table. "The laser, I take it?"
"Correct." Boothroyd walked over to the DBS sitting in the corner. "Your Aston Martin DBS. We've added a few modifications, the least of which include machine guns behind the grill."
"I was starting to like that car."
"Follow me now, 007." Boothroyd walked over to another table, at which was a small fountain pen. "What do you make of this, 007?"
Bond picked it up. "Pen. Probably writes in black ink. Used by many for documentation purposes and used by few for very odd reasons."
"Dare I ask what those 'odd reasons' are?"
Bond placed the pen back on the table. "If you value your sanity, I'd suggest not."
"Well, this is much more than just a pen. If you click the pen three times, a four second fuse will begin, after which the pen will explode with the force of a class four grenade. Click it three more times in those four seconds, and you'll deactivate the bomb." Boothroyd held the pen out for Bond, who took it and put it in his own pocket. "We have something else for you."
Boothroyd walked over to the gun station in the smallest corner of the room. Bond almost laughed—Q Branch's main job was to create weapons, yet the most obvious of weapons, firearms, were in a very small area. It was very humorous. "Give me your weapon, please." Bond reached into his shoulder holster and took out his PPK. "This is SIS new issue," Boothroyd pulled out another handgun, "the Walther P99. Fifteen round magazine, one round in the chamber. Nine-milimeter. More accurate, less capable of jamming."
"Sounds pretty reliable."
"For your sake, 007, I hope it is."
Bond followed Boothroyd over to a sheet of plate glass. It seemed to be in place for the safety of those viewing what was on the other side. In this case, it was a man in an ejector seat being fired off. "Listen, 007," Boothroyd started, "it would be wise of you to return most if not all of this equipment in pristine order, or else Q Branch will probably find you responsible for well over a million pounds government property destruction—what the hell do you think you're doing?" Bond had been inspecting what appeared to be bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich on rye bread with mayonase. "Put that down!"
"What is it? Some kind of poisoned food, to be used against a foreign dictator?"
"No, you damned buffoon!" Boothroyd grabbed the sandwich away from Bond. "It's my bloody lunch!"