CHAPTER 12
Mr. White stepped onto the airfield where he was greated by one of
Polanoa's low level henchmen. To the right he saw his hostages being
carried away. The henchman was pulling a hotel luggage cart with four
metal briefcases attached to it.
"This is the money Mr. Polanoa requested be given to you, sir," the
man said.
"Good. Load it on to the plane," Mr. White said.
"Yes, sir," the henchman said and then wheeled the cart toward the
plane which was still running.
Mr. White pulled out his cell phone and dialed Polanoa. He got the
secretary instead. "He's not available, even for me? Okay. Well tell him
that I've decided to take the weekend off and spend some of my
money. Just to make sure its real before I go into permanent business
with him."
Nassau, Bahamas
Two days later
Instead of spending time at the beach Mr. White was in a cramped,
steamy apartment. Two other men in low-cut Hawaiian shirts stood
before him. He knew they both had back-up's, the CIA rarely worked
with known International criminals without plenty of protection.
Still, Mr. White didn't care. He was quick with his wits and his mind. He
wasn't worried about a few United States agents, he'd bested them
before.
"All right Mr. White we've contacted the national office. Half of the fifty
million dollars will be deposited into two Swiss bank accounts. Once we
move in and apprehend Polanoa the other half will be deposited into
another two Swiss bank accounts," one of the CIA men said.
"And how can I be certain the money won't be internationally flagged?"
Mr. White asked leaning back in his seat, hoping the butt of the Pearl
Handled Walther was visible.
"You don't need to worry, the government won't miss that money.
We've been after Polanoa forever. This is the first we've heard from him
in eighteen years. We'll just blame the missing funds on the military like
we always do. Its common CIA proceedure," the CIA man explained.
"Good. So one week from today Polanoa will be captured and I will be
fifty million dollars richer," Mr. White said with a laughed.
Everything was going to be played by the book, only by Mr. White's
book. His book included the ancient art of the double-cross; something
Polanoa wouldn't dream of doing. And as for Bond, Mr. White didn't
care any more. If Bond were to survive the entire ordeal Mr. White may
decide to hunt him for sport. Until then he had to mascarade around
Polanoa until the CIA arrived.
Two Days Later, Saturday Evening
The tape had arrived at the front desk and was given to Bond when he
first checked in. Forester was upstairs resting after the bullet was
removed. The doctors said nothing had been damaged seriously and
Forester was out of the hospital two days later. They had checked into
the Du Pont under the alias of Wolfgang and Gisela Schaffer, a
newlywed couple on their honeymoon from Munich. When the checked
in they wore minor disguises to throw off anyone looking for James
Bond and Forester Loveless. The tape read simply-SATURDAY
NIGHT. Immediately Bond's pulse began to race. Wasn't the diplomatic
auction being held tonight at Polana's mansion?
Bond couldn't get to his room fast enough. He knocked over a French
woman as he raced towards his room. She cursed at him in French. He
fumbled with the electronic key and the door opened up. The room was
dark and Forester was in the other room. But she heard him.
"James, is that you?" she asked softly. Bond handed her an antibiotic
and she turned it away.
"I already took one," she told him calmly. Then he walked into he main
room of their hotel suite and popped the cassette into the VCR. An
image of Moneypenny and M, both drugged and slouched over a chair,
appeared. Then Polana appeared. He seemed to smile with his
accomplishment.
"This is going to be simple, Bond. You must come to my mansion
tonight, unarmed. If you are armed, they will die. I look forward to
seeing you tonight," the criminal sneered. Forester must have heard him
since she started whimpering in her sleep. It went unnoticed by Bond
since he stared in horror at the screen. It was unthinkable. M was so
much like the father he never had and Moneypenny, Oh God!
Moneypenny! What would he do if he allowed anything to happen to
her? Polanoa would die for this and, if they were harmed, he would die
a death unimaginable.
Someone at the door knocked. Bond reached for his Walther and
unlocked the safety. He approached the door and opened it. There was
a figure in the hallway, standing there. Bond grabbed him and threw him
across the suite. Then he turned on the room lights and there was Q,
lying on the floor.
"Must I remind you that your license to kill is not redeemable on
unarmed senior citizens?" Q said wearily.
"Sorry, about that, Q," Bond apologized.
"I hope you are for once," Q replied. Bond gave Q a hand and helped
him up. Q brushed himself off and looked annoyed as hell. There was a
briefcase five feet away; Q dropped it when Bond hurled him through
the air.
"I have all of your equipment ready for you and you better bring it back
in pristine condition. Explosives. This gun may not look like much but it
is the latest in plastique explosives. The detonator is this small button
and is remote. The remote for the explosives is in this wristwatch. For
weapons you have this brand new Walther P5Ps. It is a state-of-the-art
handgun with an eighteen round clip and one round in the chamber.
Silencer is here. Here are five extra clips of ammo. To record
everything in the complex, we are giving you this camera headset with
audio and infrared. The headset is also a direct link to base. Here is a
spy camera. The usual. For cutting we are giving you this key ring with a
laser built-in; the key-ring also comes with a strong photonic flash
capable of blinding and incapacatating anyone for twenty seconds. To
protect yourselves I suggest you wear these goggles. That should be
about it. Good evening. During your mission I shall be at Homebase.
Until then, farewell," Q started towards the door.
"Be careful, Q. I'd hate to not have all of these fantastic gadgets in the
field," Bond cautioned Q.
"Why? So you can destroy them on purpose? Anyway, I have an escort
from Station C with me," Q assured the agent and then went on his way.
After Q as gone, Bond went into Forester's room.
"James, is everything alright?" Forester asked.
"Of course it is," Bond assured her. She turned over in her sleep,
knowing that it was all right. While she was resting, Bond started
preparing his equipment for the mission. He stripped out of his street
clothes and put on mission camouflage. He placed the key ring and
camera in his pocket and the gun, headset, and plastique in a pouch
around his waist. Then he looked at Forester and walked over to her
bed. Then he placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he headed towards
the telephone. He dialed the number of Station C and requested a
bodyguard for Forester. He was told one would be over in five minutes.
They were right. In less than five minutes a man from Station C, armed
with an automatic, arrived and relieved him of his duty of protecting
Forester. With one final glimpse, he left.
Bond wore a khaki trenchcoat over his camouflage as he walked down
the hallway of the hotel. Instead of the guest elevator, he took the
service lift. At the basement there was a black Land Rover from Station
C waiting for him. There were no spoken instructions, both knew their
destination. The driver started up the engine and they drove off into the
evening of Rabat.
The Land Rover dropped Bond off approximately a mile away from
Polana's mansion. Bond crept along the high stone wall until he reached
a tree. Then he climbed up this tree and threw his pouch of weapons
over to the other side. He took a quick surveillance of the area and
memorized the spot. Bond would return to his pouch after he rescued M
and Moneypenny. After he climbed down the tree he threw his arms up
in a gesture of surrender and approached the entrance. Polana was
standing right up front, waiting for him. He was joined by twelve of his
guards, all armed with Uzis. The was a smile on Polanoa's face. He was
enjoying Bond's surrender.
"You are almost late and if you were late I would be forced to kill
them," Polana sneered.
"You wouldn't gain anything, Polanoa," Bond retorted.
"To the contrary, Mr. Bond. I would have eliminated the head of MI6
and have you in my power. That is quite a gain," Polanoa laughed.
"So where are they?" Bond demanded.
"You'll join them soon enough!" Polanoa snapped. After he finished one
his henchmen smashed his gun into the back of Bond's skull. There was
a searing pain and a sea of blakcness engulfed him. Images of Jill
Masterton, Pussy Galore, Gala Brand, Tracy di Vicenzo, and Flicka
von Frusse, all former lovers, passed before him. A picture of Forester,
sleeping peacefully, was the last to fly before his eyes. Then it all went
out.
Mr. White stepped onto the airfield where he was greated by one of
Polanoa's low level henchmen. To the right he saw his hostages being
carried away. The henchman was pulling a hotel luggage cart with four
metal briefcases attached to it.
"This is the money Mr. Polanoa requested be given to you, sir," the
man said.
"Good. Load it on to the plane," Mr. White said.
"Yes, sir," the henchman said and then wheeled the cart toward the
plane which was still running.
Mr. White pulled out his cell phone and dialed Polanoa. He got the
secretary instead. "He's not available, even for me? Okay. Well tell him
that I've decided to take the weekend off and spend some of my
money. Just to make sure its real before I go into permanent business
with him."
Nassau, Bahamas
Two days later
Instead of spending time at the beach Mr. White was in a cramped,
steamy apartment. Two other men in low-cut Hawaiian shirts stood
before him. He knew they both had back-up's, the CIA rarely worked
with known International criminals without plenty of protection.
Still, Mr. White didn't care. He was quick with his wits and his mind. He
wasn't worried about a few United States agents, he'd bested them
before.
"All right Mr. White we've contacted the national office. Half of the fifty
million dollars will be deposited into two Swiss bank accounts. Once we
move in and apprehend Polanoa the other half will be deposited into
another two Swiss bank accounts," one of the CIA men said.
"And how can I be certain the money won't be internationally flagged?"
Mr. White asked leaning back in his seat, hoping the butt of the Pearl
Handled Walther was visible.
"You don't need to worry, the government won't miss that money.
We've been after Polanoa forever. This is the first we've heard from him
in eighteen years. We'll just blame the missing funds on the military like
we always do. Its common CIA proceedure," the CIA man explained.
"Good. So one week from today Polanoa will be captured and I will be
fifty million dollars richer," Mr. White said with a laughed.
Everything was going to be played by the book, only by Mr. White's
book. His book included the ancient art of the double-cross; something
Polanoa wouldn't dream of doing. And as for Bond, Mr. White didn't
care any more. If Bond were to survive the entire ordeal Mr. White may
decide to hunt him for sport. Until then he had to mascarade around
Polanoa until the CIA arrived.
Two Days Later, Saturday Evening
The tape had arrived at the front desk and was given to Bond when he
first checked in. Forester was upstairs resting after the bullet was
removed. The doctors said nothing had been damaged seriously and
Forester was out of the hospital two days later. They had checked into
the Du Pont under the alias of Wolfgang and Gisela Schaffer, a
newlywed couple on their honeymoon from Munich. When the checked
in they wore minor disguises to throw off anyone looking for James
Bond and Forester Loveless. The tape read simply-SATURDAY
NIGHT. Immediately Bond's pulse began to race. Wasn't the diplomatic
auction being held tonight at Polana's mansion?
Bond couldn't get to his room fast enough. He knocked over a French
woman as he raced towards his room. She cursed at him in French. He
fumbled with the electronic key and the door opened up. The room was
dark and Forester was in the other room. But she heard him.
"James, is that you?" she asked softly. Bond handed her an antibiotic
and she turned it away.
"I already took one," she told him calmly. Then he walked into he main
room of their hotel suite and popped the cassette into the VCR. An
image of Moneypenny and M, both drugged and slouched over a chair,
appeared. Then Polana appeared. He seemed to smile with his
accomplishment.
"This is going to be simple, Bond. You must come to my mansion
tonight, unarmed. If you are armed, they will die. I look forward to
seeing you tonight," the criminal sneered. Forester must have heard him
since she started whimpering in her sleep. It went unnoticed by Bond
since he stared in horror at the screen. It was unthinkable. M was so
much like the father he never had and Moneypenny, Oh God!
Moneypenny! What would he do if he allowed anything to happen to
her? Polanoa would die for this and, if they were harmed, he would die
a death unimaginable.
Someone at the door knocked. Bond reached for his Walther and
unlocked the safety. He approached the door and opened it. There was
a figure in the hallway, standing there. Bond grabbed him and threw him
across the suite. Then he turned on the room lights and there was Q,
lying on the floor.
"Must I remind you that your license to kill is not redeemable on
unarmed senior citizens?" Q said wearily.
"Sorry, about that, Q," Bond apologized.
"I hope you are for once," Q replied. Bond gave Q a hand and helped
him up. Q brushed himself off and looked annoyed as hell. There was a
briefcase five feet away; Q dropped it when Bond hurled him through
the air.
"I have all of your equipment ready for you and you better bring it back
in pristine condition. Explosives. This gun may not look like much but it
is the latest in plastique explosives. The detonator is this small button
and is remote. The remote for the explosives is in this wristwatch. For
weapons you have this brand new Walther P5Ps. It is a state-of-the-art
handgun with an eighteen round clip and one round in the chamber.
Silencer is here. Here are five extra clips of ammo. To record
everything in the complex, we are giving you this camera headset with
audio and infrared. The headset is also a direct link to base. Here is a
spy camera. The usual. For cutting we are giving you this key ring with a
laser built-in; the key-ring also comes with a strong photonic flash
capable of blinding and incapacatating anyone for twenty seconds. To
protect yourselves I suggest you wear these goggles. That should be
about it. Good evening. During your mission I shall be at Homebase.
Until then, farewell," Q started towards the door.
"Be careful, Q. I'd hate to not have all of these fantastic gadgets in the
field," Bond cautioned Q.
"Why? So you can destroy them on purpose? Anyway, I have an escort
from Station C with me," Q assured the agent and then went on his way.
After Q as gone, Bond went into Forester's room.
"James, is everything alright?" Forester asked.
"Of course it is," Bond assured her. She turned over in her sleep,
knowing that it was all right. While she was resting, Bond started
preparing his equipment for the mission. He stripped out of his street
clothes and put on mission camouflage. He placed the key ring and
camera in his pocket and the gun, headset, and plastique in a pouch
around his waist. Then he looked at Forester and walked over to her
bed. Then he placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he headed towards
the telephone. He dialed the number of Station C and requested a
bodyguard for Forester. He was told one would be over in five minutes.
They were right. In less than five minutes a man from Station C, armed
with an automatic, arrived and relieved him of his duty of protecting
Forester. With one final glimpse, he left.
Bond wore a khaki trenchcoat over his camouflage as he walked down
the hallway of the hotel. Instead of the guest elevator, he took the
service lift. At the basement there was a black Land Rover from Station
C waiting for him. There were no spoken instructions, both knew their
destination. The driver started up the engine and they drove off into the
evening of Rabat.
The Land Rover dropped Bond off approximately a mile away from
Polana's mansion. Bond crept along the high stone wall until he reached
a tree. Then he climbed up this tree and threw his pouch of weapons
over to the other side. He took a quick surveillance of the area and
memorized the spot. Bond would return to his pouch after he rescued M
and Moneypenny. After he climbed down the tree he threw his arms up
in a gesture of surrender and approached the entrance. Polana was
standing right up front, waiting for him. He was joined by twelve of his
guards, all armed with Uzis. The was a smile on Polanoa's face. He was
enjoying Bond's surrender.
"You are almost late and if you were late I would be forced to kill
them," Polana sneered.
"You wouldn't gain anything, Polanoa," Bond retorted.
"To the contrary, Mr. Bond. I would have eliminated the head of MI6
and have you in my power. That is quite a gain," Polanoa laughed.
"So where are they?" Bond demanded.
"You'll join them soon enough!" Polanoa snapped. After he finished one
his henchmen smashed his gun into the back of Bond's skull. There was
a searing pain and a sea of blakcness engulfed him. Images of Jill
Masterton, Pussy Galore, Gala Brand, Tracy di Vicenzo, and Flicka
von Frusse, all former lovers, passed before him. A picture of Forester,
sleeping peacefully, was the last to fly before his eyes. Then it all went
out.