CHAPTER 6

Unknown Date
Unknown Time

Bond awoke with the sound of a creaking door and the silhouettes of
two large men. The light flipped on, practically blinding him as the sun
does. Each man pulled out a German Leuger pistol. As they cocked the
weapons Forester Loveless entered through the creaky door.

"Gentlemen, the weapons may go away. Do not let your intuitions set
forward your future actions," she said.

With her comments the men both placed their weapons into their
pockets. She gave a strong hand symbol to one of the guards and to her
advantage he brought a wooden chair from the corner of the room.
"And now what shall we do with you?" She questioned with authority
looking Bond straight in the eye.

"What time is it," Bond asked searching for any clock of some sort that
may be mounted on the sleek white marble walls.

"Gentlemen, his watch," as she gave the command one of the men
reached into his right pocket inside his jacket and pulled out Bonds time
keeper. Bond looked at the time.

"Eleven-hundred," he muttered sliding it onto his wrist.

"Will there be any thing else Mr. Bond," she asked.

"I would prefer just a drink," he then went on, "a vodka martini shaken
not stirred."

She snapped her fingers and spoke loudly to one of the men. The door
creaked open and echoing footsteps were briefly ahead.

As soon as his martini arrived he sat up sipping the drink quietly.

"Who is this man you spoke of? Is it of great importance that he be
killed?"

"Mr. Bond, of great importance it is that he be killed." She then pressed
a button on the wall to reveal some type of computerized dossier. The
name Enrico Polanoa appeared along with a side and front profile of a
grimy man with a white collar with black tie present.

"He is the leader of the Morrocan slavery ring. I am his number two in
command. I have gained great support from our buyers lately. I am
planning to take over the entire operation, and I think he knows this.
Therefore, he must die before he sends someone to kill me," Forester
explained.

"And when would this task be carried out? Are you supplied with the
necessary equipment?"

"This will be carried out later this evening. My two guards will escort
you and make sure that the task is carried out. I have all the necessary
equipment."

Bond had finished his martini. She looked him straight in the eye and he
realized what a specticle she was. She brushed his coma of black hair
which had tendency to form over his right eye.

"Now Mr. Bond you must rest. A strategic evening awaits you. When
hunger strikes you, enter through the door and down the hall three doors
to the right. Tell the chef I sent you."

With her comments she began to walk to the door preparing to open it.
"Oh and Mr. Bond," Bond looked up, "Good luck."

Loveless and the two guards walked out, closing the door the glint of
the marble fading slowly from sight as the lights went out. He then fell
into a deep sleep.


Bond awoke from his rest that lasted a good four hours. It had reached
3:15 p.m. Bond had started to get hungry well before he'd awakened.
He hadn't had lunch, so he went to the cafe and noticed the chef was a
heavy brit at the height of five foot nine, and possibly two-hundred
seventy pounds at weight. He had blond hair down to the back of his
ears that seamed to have no order at all.

Bond noticed him when he overheard his muttering of some kind of plan
for world domination. At first, Bond had thought the chef was a nut. But
he then felt he was overexaggerating. Maybe the chef was just muttering
anything for no apparent reason. He decided he'd interrupt.

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Bond. Miss Loveless sent me in here to eat
something. And I'm sure you have something cooking back there. Or at
least I hope."

"Please, you can call me "High Leader of the Worl -" He paused to
correct himself. "Or just call me Ken-Men." He continued: "Yes we
have some of the best food you can find in the entire town. You name it,
chances are we have it, Bond."

"Is there some kind of menu that I can look at here, then," Bond asked.
Ken-Men handed Bond a menu that reached close to two dozen pages
long.

It took Bond a little while to decide, but he decided to have chorbabil
hamus, a spicy chickpea soup and bread, and he had a glass of mint tea
to complete the meal.

After the meal he asked for a Raki, which was an aniseed flavoured liquor
brewed in locally but not drank by the strict Islamics of Morroco. He sat
at the fancy table and looked at the cafe around him. The table was set for
two people. Though there was a lamp almost perfectly above his table, Bond
noticed an unlit white candle infront of him on the center of the table. He
got out his match to light the candle. As he lit it, he stared into the single
flame. He was astonished to see someone's very familiar face within the candle:
his wife... Tracy. She stared back at him and he realised it's been so long
since he'd seen her face, even a face he'd imagined was her's. He began to go
into deep thought and depression when he was interrupted at the sight of another
familiar face coming from behind the flame: Forester Loveless. He sat up
and remembered his Raki, Bond took a sip. She sat across from him.

"Hello, Mr. Bond. Enjoying the cafeteria?"

"Please, James to you," Bond said back.

"Well, James, it looks like we have approximately five and one half
hours to be ready. It seems Enrico Polanoa is attending a party at a
relative's mansion tonight at ten fifteen tonight. Are you a professional
sniper, James?"

Bond replied, "Well, if you believe sniping someone's arm is
professional, yes."

"Good. Because you'll be attending the party as David Knight. Then,
when the clock strikes ten forty-five, you should be at your sniping post
and be ready to kill Polanoa. I'll get deeper into the plan later, James.
Do you understand?"

Bond nodded and said yes. "Would you like a drink? I'll pay for it. It's the
least I could do for you buying my food." Bond smiled at her.

She replied, "I'd be delighted, James." And she smiled back.

While she drank a Raki, wincing slightly at the taste at first, Bond looked
around the cafe. He felt like he was being watched. When he looked up over the
ceiling lamp, he noticed a mark of some sort. When Forester left, he drew the
mark on a placemat from the table. He was sure to get some answers from this
simple symbol: (+).

He left the cafe.