CHAPTER 2
December 2nd
6:59 PM
Bond opened the well oiled door very slowly and peered inside.
Moneypenny was typing very quickly on a manual typwriter. She still
prefered the old ways, Bond thought to himself. He threw his hat
accross the room and it landed on a coat rack. Moneypenny turned
around and, with tears in her eyes, ushered him inside M's office. She
was upset about 005's death. He merely nodded and stepped inside
M's office.
M looked at Bond and motioned for him to sit. He got straight to the
point. "005 was found dead in Morocco. He was strangled with garrote
wire. He was investigating a white slavery ring there, and the Morrocan
authorities requested our help. Apparently, 005 got too close. I want
you to go down there and pick up where he left off."
Bond looked baffled. "Doesn't MI5 usually handle these cases? What
makes it so important it requires us?"
"Because the slaves were foreign diplomats. We found one of them, and
he didn't know who he was. It's an intelligence matter now, 007."
December 3rd
1:52 PM
As Bond stepped out of the airport terminal he looked around. He had
been here before, but this time was different. This time he had no idea of
where to look or who to look for.
Bond was wearing a pair of casual brown slacks and a white short
sleeved shirt. He walked away from the terminal and a man approached
him, asking if he would want to take a taxi to his hotel.
Bond declined.
The man persisted in asking.
A little annoyed Bond said, "Fine, fine. You can take me to the
Windsor."
"Thank you very much Mr?"
"Chance, Adam Chance," Bond replied as his false identity.
The man nodded eagerly and Bond scrunched into the cramped taxi
cab. The man started up the car and they slowly moved down the small,
crowded streets. The man looked at Bond through the rear-view mirror
and asked, "So why are you here, sir? Business or pleasure."
"Business. But I intend to have a good time while doing it."
"What do you do, sir?"
"I'm the aid to the British ambassador's secretary."
"So you know a lot about British policy?"
"Yes," Bond replied.
The man was looking at him and licking his lips. He was a short, ugly
man with bugged eyes and a huge nose. His thinning black hair was in a
tangled mess around his head. Bond was growing even more annoyed at
the way the man was looking at him. He looked like a sick-o.
"So have you been in the taxi business for long," Bond asked.
The man made a sharp turn into a narrow alley. They stopped and Bond
jumped forward in his seat. He knew something was terribly wrong.
The man turned around and Bond saw he was holding a .38 revolver in
his left hand.
"Actually Mr. Chance I hate driving this taxi. I am more interested in
something else."
"Kidnapping," Bond asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Waiting for wealthy looking white people, abducting them, and
throwing them into a slave ring. The job pays quite well. Now, get out of
the car. And don't try anything funny, because I have people waiting on
the streets to take you into another car."
"It appears you have the upper hand," Bond said, as he began forming a
plan in his mind.
The black man led Bond through a crowded marketplace. Salesmen
called from inside small shacks. "Mr., you seem to be of fine taste. You
like to buy fresh feesh?" Suddenly a salesman lept out and thrust a
cheap pot into Bond's face. "Ornate ceremonial pottery Mr. Only cost
20 pounds, for I see you are English."
"Yes, I'd like to see that," Bond said as he yanked it from the man's
grasp and smashed it over the taxi driver's face. The salesman screamed
in protest just as a man in a tunic with a scimitar lept at him. Bond thrust
a jagged piece of the pot into the assailant's gut. Bond tossed the dying
man onto the taxi driver, knocking the gun out of his hand.
Bond tossed the salesman a 50 and ran into the crowd. He noticed
three men with scimitars brandished high, were moving very fast through
the crowd. Bond tried to think of a way to move faster. He remebered
M telling him not to photograph any natives, for they thought they lose
their souls when their picture is taken. He drew out his spy camera (the
same he used when photographing Hugo Drax's secret documents years
earlier) and raised it over his head, shouting "Camera! Camera!
Camera!" The crowd parted, letting him through and he ran towards the
swordsmen, slowing them down. Bond then tossed his camera into the
crowd and boarded a taxi and rode away. The assailants tried to follow,
but the taxi drove too fast. Bond now knew where the slave market
was. The man was taking him to an old building. He would go there
tomorrow.
December 2nd
6:59 PM
Bond opened the well oiled door very slowly and peered inside.
Moneypenny was typing very quickly on a manual typwriter. She still
prefered the old ways, Bond thought to himself. He threw his hat
accross the room and it landed on a coat rack. Moneypenny turned
around and, with tears in her eyes, ushered him inside M's office. She
was upset about 005's death. He merely nodded and stepped inside
M's office.
M looked at Bond and motioned for him to sit. He got straight to the
point. "005 was found dead in Morocco. He was strangled with garrote
wire. He was investigating a white slavery ring there, and the Morrocan
authorities requested our help. Apparently, 005 got too close. I want
you to go down there and pick up where he left off."
Bond looked baffled. "Doesn't MI5 usually handle these cases? What
makes it so important it requires us?"
"Because the slaves were foreign diplomats. We found one of them, and
he didn't know who he was. It's an intelligence matter now, 007."
December 3rd
1:52 PM
As Bond stepped out of the airport terminal he looked around. He had
been here before, but this time was different. This time he had no idea of
where to look or who to look for.
Bond was wearing a pair of casual brown slacks and a white short
sleeved shirt. He walked away from the terminal and a man approached
him, asking if he would want to take a taxi to his hotel.
Bond declined.
The man persisted in asking.
A little annoyed Bond said, "Fine, fine. You can take me to the
Windsor."
"Thank you very much Mr?"
"Chance, Adam Chance," Bond replied as his false identity.
The man nodded eagerly and Bond scrunched into the cramped taxi
cab. The man started up the car and they slowly moved down the small,
crowded streets. The man looked at Bond through the rear-view mirror
and asked, "So why are you here, sir? Business or pleasure."
"Business. But I intend to have a good time while doing it."
"What do you do, sir?"
"I'm the aid to the British ambassador's secretary."
"So you know a lot about British policy?"
"Yes," Bond replied.
The man was looking at him and licking his lips. He was a short, ugly
man with bugged eyes and a huge nose. His thinning black hair was in a
tangled mess around his head. Bond was growing even more annoyed at
the way the man was looking at him. He looked like a sick-o.
"So have you been in the taxi business for long," Bond asked.
The man made a sharp turn into a narrow alley. They stopped and Bond
jumped forward in his seat. He knew something was terribly wrong.
The man turned around and Bond saw he was holding a .38 revolver in
his left hand.
"Actually Mr. Chance I hate driving this taxi. I am more interested in
something else."
"Kidnapping," Bond asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Waiting for wealthy looking white people, abducting them, and
throwing them into a slave ring. The job pays quite well. Now, get out of
the car. And don't try anything funny, because I have people waiting on
the streets to take you into another car."
"It appears you have the upper hand," Bond said, as he began forming a
plan in his mind.
The black man led Bond through a crowded marketplace. Salesmen
called from inside small shacks. "Mr., you seem to be of fine taste. You
like to buy fresh feesh?" Suddenly a salesman lept out and thrust a
cheap pot into Bond's face. "Ornate ceremonial pottery Mr. Only cost
20 pounds, for I see you are English."
"Yes, I'd like to see that," Bond said as he yanked it from the man's
grasp and smashed it over the taxi driver's face. The salesman screamed
in protest just as a man in a tunic with a scimitar lept at him. Bond thrust
a jagged piece of the pot into the assailant's gut. Bond tossed the dying
man onto the taxi driver, knocking the gun out of his hand.
Bond tossed the salesman a 50 and ran into the crowd. He noticed
three men with scimitars brandished high, were moving very fast through
the crowd. Bond tried to think of a way to move faster. He remebered
M telling him not to photograph any natives, for they thought they lose
their souls when their picture is taken. He drew out his spy camera (the
same he used when photographing Hugo Drax's secret documents years
earlier) and raised it over his head, shouting "Camera! Camera!
Camera!" The crowd parted, letting him through and he ran towards the
swordsmen, slowing them down. Bond then tossed his camera into the
crowd and boarded a taxi and rode away. The assailants tried to follow,
but the taxi drove too fast. Bond now knew where the slave market
was. The man was taking him to an old building. He would go there
tomorrow.