9.
"Eddie, " Bond cried out, "Calm down,
its only me! James" The gun's sights did not move.
"I'm well aware of that", Drake said
softly.
Oh my god, Bond thought, Drake, working for Carter?
"Eddie, your with Carter"
"No", Drake replied.
"Well then take the damn gun off me!", Bond
yelled.
Drake laughed, "Your misunderstanding me, I'm
not working for Carter, Carter is working for me!"
Of course, Bond thought, with Drake in the CIA
picking off every bit of evidence on him, and Carter making the deals! It must
take some pretty sick minds to think up this plan.
Carter came from behind the alley wall and said,
"So I guess Mr. Bond now knows our little secret[Drake nodded] Should I
kill him?"
"No," Drake said, "He may be
useful."
"As you wish, "Said Carter and he slapped Bond
in the back of the neck. Bond dropped to the ground cold.
***
Bond awoke. He had no memory of the pain that knocked
him out. He had no memory of who he was or where he was. He shook hid head,
trying to get some memory back in him. The vision of Drake popped into his
mind. The traitor! And where was Bond? He tried to move his arm, but was
dismally cut off. He was strapped down, on the stainless steel table. There
seemed to be no escape. No way to stop this plan. No way to avenge Lory. Bond
turned his head, although it was hard with the straps all around him. On the
table next to him lay torturing tools. A scalpel, knives, all kinds of
horrific, skin tearing weapons.
The room was very poorly lit, and smelled of dead
rats. The walls seemed to be made of a mixture of brick and metal. The
temperature was much warmer than normal room temperature. Where was Bond? The
climate was either very warm, or the air conditioning was very poor. It didn't
seem as if he was still in New York. He refocused his mind on what really
mattered, escape.
If Bond could some how get a hold of one of those
knives, he could easily cut through the thick, leather straps that hold him
down. Why would they keep him alive anyway? What did he have that is of some
interest to them? These questions echoed in Bond's mind. How could he get one
of the knives from the other table? He tried to focus that question in his
mind. Maybe if he leaned he could fall the table over and hit the table,
resulting in the knives being knocked down. He took a breath and leaned. Lean,
Lean you fool, Bond thought. Finally the table gave in and fell. It crashed
leaning onto the table across from him. It didn't stay there long, as it
immediately fell to the ground. He could feel his arm swelling from the fall.
Any sign of a scalpel? Bond searched around and discovered one had fallen a few
centimeters from his wrist. He shook his hand violently to improve his reach on
it. Yes, it came in grasp! He stuck it under the strap, and powerfully cut it
of. Soon two hands were free, then a leg, then 2. He stuck the knife in his
pocket and walked over to the door. He creaked it open and saw the building to
be very small. About 3 more rooms accompanied Bond's room, discluding a broom
closet near the entrance. There seemed to be no sign of any guards or staff.
Bond creeped past the hallway and looked through the
small window on the door. There was the heroin farm! He was in Afghanistan! It
was a large area and there were a few buildings around it about the same size
as the one Bond was in. There were very few guards outside, he could only make
out 2, besides the Afghans who were harvesting the heroin. They must pay the
Afghans to harvest, store and refine the heroin in the buildings.
Bond noticed that the guard had come back for another
pass by the building he was residing in and decided to ambush him. Only a few
more steps and he'll be in reach! Now! Bond flashed open the door and grabbed
the guard from behind. The man tried to scream, but Bond's strong grip drowned
it out. The man then decided to strike back. He tried to aim his D5K Machine
Pistol for Bond behind him, but Bond knocked it from his hands. The man pounded
his elbow to Bond's stomach. This guard was chosen wisely. Bond knew he couldn't
take much more of the hammering, so he pulled the knife and stuck it into the
man's kidney. Bond gripped his throught harder to keep him from screaming. Bond
withdrew the knife and grabbed the man by the arms. He dragged him into the
building and stuffed him into the broom closet.
Bond looked around. No sign of Drake. He turned his
head again. There in the Heroin field was Carter, Working the Afghans to death.
Bond knew there had to be some explosives somewhere. If he could find any he
could blow up the heroin field, along with Carter and the Afghans. He sneaked
around the building, and came upon another, only this one was much taller than
any of the other ones. It was made mostly of brick and was about 4 stories
high. That is probably where Drake is! He creeped across to the building and
slid open the door. There seemed to be activity in all the rooms. Bond listened
to the voices, seeing if he could identify Drake's. So far no.
Bond heard a door creak, and out came a man appearing
to be in his late 30's with a colorful cotton shirt and some long khaki pants.
Bond hid behind a doorway and prepared to ambush him. He walked fairly slowly,
and showed a slight limp with his left leg. He started whistling and came into
range. He grabbed his arm and pulled him into the doorway with him. Bond
pointed the gun right to his face and said, "If you scream, I'll kill
you"
The man understood. A look of terror came to his
face, "Whoareyou? Whatdoyouwantfromme?"
Bond glared into the man's face, "I need to know
where Drake is, and if there are any explosives here?"
"If I tell you, will you not kill me?[Bond
nodded] All right, he is on the third floor, in his office, no. 43, working on
the paperwork for a big order of heroin, our biggest customer yet! Explosives
are in the metal silo! Now please get the gun out of my face before i get a
heart attack?"
Bond replied only by hitting the man hard with the
butte of his gun. The man quickly fainted. No. 43, Bond thought. Bond got up
and checked the number of the room he was next to. It was No. 17. He walked by
each door, counting the number. 23, 25, 27, then was a stairway. Bond climbed
the stairway past level 2, up to floor 3. 41, 43! Bond heard a laugh from
inside. It was surely Drake's voice! Bond knocked on the door and heard Drake
reply, "Come in!"
He turned around, only to see Bond with a machine
pistol in his face. "James, I thought we locked you up good!" There
was a sense of terror in his voice. "Out the gun down, and I have a
business proposition for you!" Bond refused to put the gun down.
"What would you say, 40% of this purchase if you let me live. Even if you
do kill me James, the gunshot would alert everyone and they would have you
killed!"
Bond understood. He took the clips out of the gun,
stuffed them into his pocket, and threw the gun to the far end of the room.
Bond walked up to Drake's desk and sat down. "How much money are you
making off of this deal?"
Carter hesitated, " Oh, it depends on the
condition of the heroin when it arrives. We expect it to be at least
$50,000,000" Unknown to Bond, Under his seat Drake was carefully
assembling a silencer to his Colt .25 pistol. He smiled and said, " Too
bad you wont be around to see it!"
Bond caught up with the game and dived for Drake.
Drake lifted his hand, revealing the Colt residing in it. Bond slapped the gun
upward as Drake pulled the trigger. A bullethole stained the roof. Drake lashed
his arm for Bond's face with his long nails. Bond could feel blood pooring out
of the scratch. Drake took advantage of Bond's open position and jabbed Bond's
nose. Now blood was pooring out of his nose. Bond caught his breath and kicked
sent a swift uppercut to Drake's chin. Drake took a quick gasp and lashed out
his foot to Bond's stomach. Bond took Drake's recovery time from the kick for
granted. A quick lash to the head. This was Bond's first chance to withdraw the
knife. Bond prepared to stab Drake. Drake grabbed the hand in motion and tried
to drive it away. Drake couldn't defend himself any longer as Bond kicked him
in the groin. This left him open for a stab in the back. Drake gasped his last
breath and fell to the ground. Now with Drake dead bond wondered to himself.
How could a friend betray him like that? Was he ever his friend? Bond hated
killing in cold blood and had no pleasure in killing him, but this was his job
and it had to be done! Bond picked up the D5K, reloaded the clips and ran.