FILE HB007/010 | The WhoWhenHow?
You know those days when your caught in a three-way Mexican standoff between you, your agency boss and the company psychiatrist?
No?
Well, there's always a first time, and today seems to be mine.
Yes, we're still here. Somewhere. Inside a room, somewhere. Inside a building. Somewhere.
I'm standing there, pointing the shrink's weapon at M, who's pointing his weapon at me, whilst being sheiled, involuntarily of course, by said shrink.
Naturally, I could, in a heartbeat, just pop one between M's eyes for convenience sake, finish off the 'shrink', then nip into my local pharmacy on the way home for some pain killers. My arm's absolutely killing me at this stage.
But then I'd still be no wiser as to...
"What the bloody heck is going on?"
"Stand down, Holly... like I said, I can explain everything!" repeats M.
"You know, you keep saying that? But I'm still not hearing anything by way of an explanation."
"Look, I'll talk, alright, just not with a bloody gun pointing to my face!"
I take a moment to think about it, then reply "Fine." and reposition my gun to the side of the shrinks head.
"Great! Thanks for that, M." barks the good Doctor, bloody nose and all.
"Dammit, if you'd waited till I got here as advised, this situation would be... better contained!"
He pauses for a moment, as if to weigh up his options. Then, slowly lowers and holsters his weapon, keeping both hands clearly visible the entire time.
"Ok, now everyone's happy... mostly, anyway... why don't you start talking?" I ask.
"The plan was never to hurt you... at least, not the real you. But rather to determine wether you were really you, and not... someone else!" he explains, somewhat unclearly.
"Right!" I reply. "Well why didn't you just say so?" Before slamming the butt of my gun into the side of the shrink's head, who in turn, lets out a surprisinly feminine cry. "Perhaps you'd like to give it a try, doc?" I ask him.
"Hey, no problem, I'll talk! I'm good at talking! I'm a shrink for crying out loud. Well, supposed to be... Just, please, don't hit me again?"
What a wuss.
"H-have you heard of an organisation called 'The Shop'?" he stammers.
"No. What do they sell, online skincare products?"
"Technology!" interrupts M.
"And we're not talking tablets and mobile phones, either." adds the shrink. "Think next-gen advances in warfare, Nasa-level interfaces, technologies that wouldn't look out of place in a James Cameron movie."
"Ok, so more bad guys for MI6 to take down! Keeps us from dying of boredom, right? That still doesn't explain the impromptu wet t-shirt tryouts I've just engaged in?"
"Oh, right. My apologies." says the shrink.
"Somebody already has taken them down, Bond, permanently. Back in 2013, a rogue US government operative by the name of Nikita Mears, along with just a handful of fellow agents took on the organisation and cancelled their major operation. But not before their most coveted secrets were put up for auction on the Black Market and sold, for a considerably small fortune by a certain Dorian Estevez Grey."
"Grey? What kind of secrets?" I ask, interest now peeked.
"That's the scary part!" comes the familiar voice behind me. I spin around to see...
"Q?"
"Holly."
He's clutching a small rucksack stuffed to the seams with various scraps of paper.
"M took some convincing he could trust me and I him, when I went to see him after you left, Turns out the situation's far worse than imagined, H."
"I don't know, Q, I can imagine quite a bit."
"I had to grill you hard, Holly, to get a clear enough profile read on you. But still wasn't convinced, so put you onto Mohinda for further detailed evaluation." explains M.
"Apologies again for my getting carried away agent Bond." says the shrink.
"Ok, now somebody, I don't care who, tell me what is going on!" I reply, releasing the shrink and tending to my throbbing hand.
M steps forward and cautiously begins to explain. Nothing could have prepared me for what that explanation was.
"We have recent confirmed intel that Quantum have indeed resurfaced, and have infiltrated not only MI6, but a large number of intelligence agencies around the globe. Part of what we believe to be a larger as yet undisclosed endgame. We're working closely with various allies across the waters to maintain a tight lid on this and prevent mass panic from tearing apart our society.
The visitor in your office.
Director of International Affairs, Richard Parker. Himself, runnin a similar protocols are being carried out by those agencies.
Now, we have no idea how deep this parasite has dug itself, or which of the agents have or haven't been compromised.
"That was my job." adds the shrink. "Pose as a psychiatrist, create profiles for each of your agents, compose a list to determine those who are under suspicion."
"Okay, but this still makes no sense." I say. "And still doesn't explain why the drastic measures? You've dealt with infiltration before, albeit on a smaller scale..."
"No, not like this. Nothing quite like this." Insists Q.
"The 'intel', you retrieved from Grey detailed, among other things, an experimental surgical process he'd purchased on the black market codenamed: Project XIII." explains M.
"As in the Sally Sheridan assassination? Come on, that's a conspiracy theorist's fantasy!" I denounce.
"Make that 'a hardcore reality!" insists Q. "Advanced cell replication, pioneered by The Shop with the aim of achieving completely undetectable enemy infiltration. Imagine if you could literally wear the face of your enemy! Walk among them, in their very shoes, be in the midst of their operations, without ever raising suspicion? Voice, skin, hair, eye colour... Imagine the advantage that would give you?"
Q, still the smartest guy in the room, just not making a whole lot of damn sense.
"Fancy dream." I say. "Wait, lets go back to where you thought I was one of these 'doubles' and hired Dr Frankenstein here to 'evaluate' me. Why the hostility?"
"There were... anomalies in your behaviour patterns... things you were clearly hiding from your report. Pieces that didn't quite fit together... I suppose..."
"You suppose? Im sorry, who are you again?" I ask.
"Aram Mojtabai." he holds out his hand. We shake. I secretly wince in pain.
"I'm an old associate of M's. We ran a few International Surveillance Ops together back in 98'. I normally work counter-intelligence for the NSA."
"Don't give up your day job." I tell him before turning to M. "Okay, say I buy this. What's our next move? Our primary goal?"
"Containment, at every cost. You'll run your field ops as normal. We don't want to raise any suspicion. But for every mission there will now be a counter-mission. You'll have complete carte blanche to be selective with whatever intel you submit in your reports until I say otherwise. Q will be on hand alongside you out in the field, but only as your eyes and ears, providing mobile tech support."
"Err... sorry, Q as in me? As in this Q? Out there? In the... big bad... world?" asks Q. The crack in his voice betraying his normally cool and confident exterior.
"I'm inclined to agree with Mr Genius, there, bad idea!"
"For the time being, he'll be safer out there with you, than down in that basement alone! Of all our agents he'd provide the most challenging to replicate."
"Err... and that's an issue because...?"
"They'd be more inclined to simply stage your assassination instead." explains the shrink, somewhat insensitively.
"Oh." replies Q, who almost swallows his tongue.
"Now remember, all of you... trust no-one outside of these four walls. We'll rendezvous in 7 days. I'll be in touch."
"Fair play. So what's the first stop?" I ask.
"Russia!" announces M. "And a man named; Mikhail Doliński."
To be continued...