12 / The Deadly Martini

Bond had gotten a good deal of his money back by the end of the third night, and Le Chiffre had proven that he wasn't going to give up without a fight, but the game was still greatly in Bond's favor by the end of the night. Felix Leiter was still hanging on, but only by a couple hundred thousand dollars, and was folding nearly every hand. Other than those three, the only other card player at the table was Fukutuk, who was having nearly as much luck as Felix.

Bond took a drink of his latest martini, which was tasting funnier than it should. When looked down at his cards, the question of where the other two had come from briefly crossed his mind. After that brief second, the realization that his vision had doubled was obvious. As the world came back into focus for a second, he looked first at Le Chiffre, then at his own martini. It was obvious that he'd been poisoned.

"Excuse me," he said to the dealer.

"But, sir, you are the big blind. Bond took the money off the top of his stack, then folded.

He got up and nearly stumbled his way through the room. On his way out, he grabbed someone's glass and salt container. He stopped off at the restroom, which was glowing a very unnatural shade of white, thanks to whatever Le Chiffre had put in his drink. Using hands that were so numb, he'd never know they were there if he didn't see them, he hit the hot water and filled his stolen glass. Once it was full, he emptied the salt shaker directly into glass. He'd been taught in the mandatory health briefing, back in training, that it would flush out most of the poison.

The dizziness started to settle in, a sudden sense of vertigo followed. He couldn't tell what was up or what was down, and left and right wouldn't stop spinning around to allow him to make sense of it. He needed to get out to the car, to get to the health equipment. He was so close to dying that the sense of his life passing before his eyes almost came on.

Bond must have scared at least half a dozen people trying to shamble out to the DBS. At least three cars nearly hit him while he slowly crossed their path. Once he reached the car, he opened up the passenger's door and opened the compartment, activating his link to MI6 and pulling out the health equipment. Using a good deal of his little strength, he pressed 'Call' on the uplink.

111

M went through her briefing packets for the day as she usually did, when Tanner burst through her door. "Ma'am, it's Bond. He's been poisoned, and he's going into cardiac arrest." She pressed a button on her console and his medical stats, all recorded and processed by the tracking implant in his arm, appeared on her screen.

"Have we figured out what it is?" one of the medical staff asked.

"It's coming thorugh now. Ventricular fribulosis, digitalis," another answered.

"Bond, take the defibrilator out and attach the leads to your chest. When it's fully charged, press the red button," the first directed. M felt helpless as one of her agents was dying, and she couldn't even give any medical assistance.

"Wait, don't push the button!" the second shouted.

"His heart's gonna stop!" the first responded.

"He's only gonna have one charge before he passes out. Bond, take the blue combipen, mid-neck, into the vein. That'll counteract the digitalis."

They couldn't hear over the uplink whether or not Bond had done as ordered, but something changed on the readout in front of M.

"Now, push the red button, Bond."

Nothing happened.

"Bond, push the button!"

Still nothing.

"Push it now!"

Again, nothing.

M shouted, "Push the goddamn button, Bond!"

Nothing.

Then a flatline.

111

Vesper got to the car just in time to watch Bond pass out in the seat. She grabbed the wire that had fallen out of the lead and reinserted it, then, after it charged, she pressed the red button on the defibrilator. Bond's eyes shot open, and he grasped for her. Sweat dripped down his face, which had tightened a great deal. Once he regained himself, his first question was, "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right? You nearly died!" she shouted.

He pulled the leads from his chest and rebuttoned his shirt, then spent a few moments touching himself up. He was presentable again by the time he closed the door. "They'll give me hell for that," he said, though what he was referring to, she didn't know.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To win the game."

"What? You just nearly died! You're not going back in there!"

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I wouldn't dream of it." After that, he walked back toward the building, stumbling a little bit.

111

Felix Leiter was down to his last thousand, and had the worst hand anyone could have. Le Chiffre laid down two aces, after Fukutuk put down two kings. Why Felix had even stayed in, he didn't know. He just held out to some dumbass hope that a pair of deuces would be the high hand. After that, his thousand was gone.

Where the hell was Bond? He'd practically broken a table rushing out of the room in a hurry, and now he was missing. Felix was starting to regret Beam's decision to use Bond to get to Le Chiffre, but he couldn't back out of it now.

As Felix sat down at the bar and ordered one of Bond's fancy martinis, the elevator doors opened and the man himself stepped out. Bond walked over to him, grabbed the martini he'd just ordered, and took a very long drink. After the final gulp, Bond said, "Thank you, Felix. That was just what I needed."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Defibrilating, why?"

As Bond walked away, Felix said aloud, to no one but himself, "What the hell does that even mean?"

111

Bond sat down at his seat, across from the visibly disturbed Le Chiffre. "Sorry about that," he said in a calm voice, "that last hand... Nearly killed me." Le Chiffre gave a very light chuckle, but allowed himself that smile that Bond would have loved to rip off with a pair of plyers.