AGAIN, JAMAICA
Original content © 2003 Barnett Tennyson
You are no doubt aware of the exploits of British Secret Service Agent James Bond, 007, as recorded by Ian Fleming. Mr. Fleming died of a heart attack in l964, way too soon for this master of the mystery novel. No one in my opinion has matched his vivid imagery, wildly creative imagination, and poignant observations of the world around him. His prose was so rich and engrossing it was nearly impossible to put down one of his novels once it was begun.
Through my connections with various former MI-6 operatives, I came across the following James Bond adventure that has not before been released to the public. I hope you find it entertaining.
This story begins in the late 1980's, when James Bond was retired from the Secret Service. For some years he had lived in the south of Spain, on the Costa del Sol, near the small village of Mijas. A number of British expatriates had chosen this area, between Malaga and Marbella on the Mediterranean.
On one spring afternoon, had you been on a hillside nearby, you would have seen a lovely villa situated high on one of the rolling, brownish hills that fall gently away to the deep blue of the Mediterranean. On a terrace just below the villa, James Bond, fit and tanned and in his mid 50's, is playing a vigorous game of tennis with a lovely lady, mid thirties, with long, raven hair and a lovely shape clearly outlined by her snug tennis top and shorts. As she executes a beautiful overhead smash, Bond valiantly attempts a return, only to net the ball. "Ah, that gremlin raised the net on me again," he exclaims to her amusement. Bond and the lady walk off the court, exchanging pleasantries. Bond remarks that he will return later, to pick her up for dinner. A short kiss seals it, and Bond walks to his automobile, a Triumph TR-6 roadster, and tosses his tennis racket and a tin of tennis balls onto the passenger seat.
As he drives down the winding road toward the coastal highway, a dark sedan races past him, cutting him off. The driver of the sedan jumps from the car, pulls a silencer equipped pistol and fires at Bond. Bond ducks behind his car, reaches for the racket and tennis balls, and sprints to the underbrush and trees beside the road. The shootist fires a couple more shots, just missing Bond. The underbrush is quite thick, and the shootist moves stealthily into it, gun ready, looking for Bond.
As the shootist moves into a clearing, he hears a twig snap, and looks to his right. Bond, about twenty yards away, flips a tennis ball into the air, and with an overhand serve, drives the ball mightily, hitting the shootist's pistol, knocking it loose. Bond flips another ball into the air, and this serve is drilled directly into the shootists's crotch, doubling him over with pain. As Bond approaches him, he remarks, "Ah well, another double fault," and grabs him by the neck. Bond begins questioning the shootist, but before Bond can react, the shootist breaks a cigarette, stuffs into his mouth, and soon is writhing in pain. Bond smells the scent of cyanide on the cigarette.
The troubling event is investigated, and Bond returns to London to review the matter with Headquarters. M was able to determine that the shootist was a notorious Eastern European hitman, who performed his services for the highest bidder. Who might have hired him for this, however, remained a mystery. Bond and M agree that the hitman had no direct run-in with Bond, so a personal vendetta is discounted. Bond noted the similarity between the death of the hitman and another incident years earlier in Jamaica. M agreed. "Yes, that Doctor No business." M relates to Bond that there are troubling matters in Jamaica again. There have been peculiar ecological disasters, the Interior Ministry had sent some scientists to assist, and they disappeared. And there is a super secret research laboratory on the Island, Tarono Laboratory. No on has been able to penetrate its security, but since there was no evidence of wrongdoing by the lab, the authorities hands were tied.
Bond inquires if there is any connection with the attempt on his life and the Jamaican matter. M casts his eyes downward and says yes, he thinks there might be. There had been some discussion about calling him back to consult on this, due to his earlier successes in Jamaica. Those discussions had included Derek Choate, 009, who had then returned to Jamaica. And now Choate has not checked in for some time.
M fears that the word may have reached whoever is behind the scientists, and Choate's, disappearance. And whoever that is may have felt the presence of Bond would have been too great a threat. Under the circumstances, M says, it would be too much to expect Bond to come aboard. And he is chagrined that he had not forewarned Bond, but had frankly not anticipated the quick, nearly fatal response the mere mention of Bond may have caused. M remarks that Bond is obviously fit, and his tennis game "ah, right on the mark," and wonders if he would have interest in .. Bond takes him up, indicating that when someone tries to kill him, he wants to whom and he wants to know why. M's face develops a sly grin, and he tells Bond that he will "make all necessary arrangements for you to fly to Jamaica immediately."
As Bond's plane circles to land at the airport outside of Kingston, his memory is flooded with thoughts of the beautiful jewel of the Caribbean. Once in Kingston, Bond meets with Admiral Bates, who is attached to the British Embassy, and is the number one man in the Secret Service for the region. Bond is told that there are no new leads into the scientists who disappeared. Concerning the ecological disasters, the government had investigated - a number of fish and bird deaths - but the reports were inconclusive and bland. As far as the Tarono Laboratory was concerned, again, it remained impenetrable.
One interesting point is that the local divers used to dive in and around the installation, located near Oracabessa on the North Shore. It is a haven for exotic shells. However none of them will dive there now. And none of the divers are talking. They are a close knit group, and very distrustful of outsiders. Bond asks about contacting them. Bates says that they often sell their shells to a shop in Oracabessa. Bond gets the address of the shop, and secures a rental car for the drive north from Kingston.
Bond finds the shop with ease - Honey's Shells - and thinks little of it. He walks in and asks to speak to the owner. A moment later the owner, a woman, walks into the shop from its office, and Bond is momentarily stunned. Even after all the intervening years he immediately recognizes the blonde beauty. It is Honeychile Ryder.
Honey knows him immediately as well and they embrace. She tells him that she has stayed on the island all these years, having opened the shop just a short time after Bond had left Jamaica. Something moves in Bond as he talks with her, and looks at her. He can hardly believe how beautiful she is, and how his emotions seem to be running away with him. They meet later for dinner and Bond explains his need to talk with some of the divers. Honey knows them all well, and they trust her completely. The divers told her that much more was found when the government investigated the fish and bird kills, and that the divers do not trust the government at all. She is not sure why the divers avoid the area of the lab. It is something they will not even discuss with her. She agrees to contact a few of the divers and try to arrange a meeting.
Bond drops Honey off at her home and drives to his hotel. As he enters the lobby, he does not notice the large limo parked just across the street. If he had looked, he would have seen the shadow of a woman seated in the back, with straight black hair, and the smoke of a cigarette swirling lazily around her face and head. This woman watched Bond intently, never blinking. After Bond enters the hotel, a man rushes out to whisper to the woman. She nods slightly and the limo races off into the tropical night.
The next day, Honey calls. She has arranged for Bond to meet some of the divers. Bond picks Honey up in his car and they drive up into the hills of Jamaica, beyond the tourists' expensive homes, to a small hamlet of very modest houses. They park in front of one, and three men come out to meet them. Honey and Bond exit the car, and Honey introduces Bond to one man, Teddy. Teddy reluctantly shakes Bond's hand, looking at him suspiciously. With Honey's encouragement, Teddy agrees to talk. Bond asks about the Tarono laboratory. "There be plenty bad things happening, for sure, man," he says. He tells of the locals who work in the lab. They will speak to no one about the place. Any that do, well, something very bad happens. Perhaps a wife would get badly burned, or one of the children badly hurt. Same thing with any diver who would venture into the waters around the lab. The divers got the message quick: the lab was off limits.
And there was more. The lab is run by a young man, known only as San. And San is a devil, Teddy says. What he works on, no one understands, but he is a devil. Bond asks him to explain. "How else can a man make another disappear?" Teddy answers. Bond asks if he has seen this. No, says Teddy, but a good friend, another diver named Eddie Billing, has. Billing called it "the sparkles." Teddy says that Billing and another diver were the first to find some of the dead fish that began washing up on the north shore in great numbers. Billing said some of the fish were horribly deformed, with huge growths and sores on them. Some even had two heads. Then some lab people had shown up, and then the government, who removed all the fish.
A few days later, on a beach near Tarono, Billing and the other diver were talking it over, wondering what to do. While they were talking, the other diver simply disappeared. With the sparkles. Bond says he wants to meet with Billing. Teddy says he doesn't know, he'll try.
Later that night, Bond goes home with Honey. She had remained single all the years, devoting her life to the study of shells and running the shop. The magic between them is unmistakable and the night is one of love.
The following morning, Bond calls Admiral Bates, who arranges for Bond to visit the government office of environmental control. Bond returns to Kingston and finds the government officials less than forthcoming. They merely recite the findings of the investigation. Bond asks if samples of the fish killed were taken. Of course. Anything unusual? No, nothing at all. And the samples? All were destroyed.
Bond returns to his hotel on the North Shore and sees a shadowy figure that seems to be watching him. He calls Honey and tells her he will stay there for the night, there may be some bad business and he does not want her to be endangered.
Bond's room, on the fifth floor of the hotel, has large glass sliding doors to a balcony. The doors are open, letting in the cool night air. Bond moves about in the room and would be clearly visible to anyone looking from the outside. And in fact, at that moment, someone is. A man, dressed totally in black, is stationed in a clump of trees just fifty yards or so from the hotel. He is carefully aiming a high powered rifle with telescopic scope at Bond, the cross hairs steadied on Bond's heart. The sniper's trigger finger begins the slow squeeze of the professional. But before a shot can be fired, a thin strand of wire slips around the sniper's throat. In a second, it is pulled mightily, tightening and cutting into his neck. The sniper's eyes bulge as the wire cuts off air, and sound. In a moment, the sniper slouches to the ground in death. His killer, an athletic man, is also dressed in black, and quickly sprints away.
The next morning, the commotion awakens Bond. He walks down in time to see the local authorities taking the body away. He telephones Admiral Bates and as soon as he hangs up, Honey calls. She has arranged the meeting with Eddie Billing. Bond meets Billing on a small beach near a marina on the North Shore. Billing begins to relate his story. He is clearly petrified, looking around nervously. As he speaks, the rumble of a high powered boat is heard. Billing is shaking all over as he tells Bond about the sparkles. Then, he seems to stop speaking in mid-sentence. He begins to shimmer, take on the luminescence of silver. Then, right before Bond's eyes, Eddie Billings disappears.
Bond hears the boat power up, and turns toward the sea. The boat, a 45 foot Infinity, has turned toward the open sea, her engines roaring. Bond notices the two men in the boat pulling off what look like radiation suits. Bond runs to the small marina, where a young man with long blonde hair is gassing up his 38 foot Scarab. Bond leaps into the boat, fires it up, and begins to pull away from the dock. As the young man yells, Bond calls out "sorry, the Queen's business. Shan't be long." Bond pursues the Infinity as they weave past the coral reefs heading out to sea. Both are running above 5000 rpms, over 65 miles an hour. Once clear of the reefs, the boats blast through the water, at times lifting all but the out drives clear of the sea. As Bond begins to gain on the Infinity, the pilot looks back and the other man begins to scamper through the boat. The pilot is on the radio, frantically calling whilst trying to control the huge boat leaping and slicing through the swells. A moment later Bond thinks he sees a small object, moving at tremendous speed through the air, honing in on the Infinity. And then the Infinity explodes in a gigantic fireball, disintegrating. Could it have been a surface to surface missile? With the bright sun, spray and glare, it was impossible to say.
Back at the marina, things are straightened out with the Scarab's owner after the local authorities check Bond out with Kingston. Bond returns to Kingston and he and Admiral Bates meet with an assistant to the Prime Minister. He is quite dismissive of Bond's story, suggesting that spontaneous combustion could explain poor Billing, and that there simply wasn't enough for any action against the Tarono lab. After the meeting, Bond wonders to Admiral Bates if the assistant is just a cautious bureaucrat, or something else. Bond asks the Admiral to send a cable back to Q section immediately.
The next morning, a large package is delivered to Bond at his hotel room. Full scuba gear and an underwater jamming device have been forwarded from Q.
Later that night, Teddy takes Bond to a small cove near the Tarono lab. Bond, in wetsuit and scuba gear, enters the water, checks the jamming device, and flutter kicks away from shore. In about twenty feet of water, he turns south, swimming just a few feet off the bottom, toward the Tarono lab.
Within the lab, the technician at the security panel notices something. Before he can react, someone dressed in black overcomes the man, and shuts off the security system. Bond swims ashore, removes the scuba tank and fins, pushes his mask and snorkel up on his head, and runs toward the building. He jimmies a window and makes his way to the main laboratory, where he begins to open file cabinets, scanning reports. Some of them involve gene splicing, the creation of new strains of bacteria. There are photographs of fish that are deformed and bizarre. Bond begins inspecting another file cabinet and finds a series of reports on "Megaviolet Rays." His tiny flashlight is skimming line after line of this report when the main lights suddenly flash on As Bond turns, he hears a man's voice say, "My, my, a visitor!"
Bond sees a young man, about in his mid-twenties, flanked by armed security guards. The young man remarks that Bond has discovered his most important find. He introduces himself as San, and with a megalomaniac's strut, he explains that he had discovered megaviolet rays, which exist well beyond the visual spectrum of light. With further experimentation, he was able to control those rays, focus them, bind them, align them. Much like a laser does with light rays. But there was a difference. When megaviolet rays are aligned and focused, whatever they are focused on breaks down to its molecular level, and is dispersed. And with quite a show. What do the locals call it, "the sparkles?" Lest you think this is just a mechanism for meaningless destruction, San remarks, let me quickly add that the megaviolet rays break down everything this way, toxic waste, even nuclear waste, all rendered harmless by this wonderful invention. "Think of the possibilities, Mr. Bond," San says, "it is what the world needs." But no, the world wasn't quite ready. He would not be rejected as his father was. He would wait until the world was in such a dire state that it would embrace him as the savior. And he intended to help that along, by spreading altered bacteria and viruses throughout the world, creating chaos, misery, abject fear. And then he would step forward, and demand his price.
San asks if Bond remembered his father, and before a response was possible, San answers for him. He should, for Bond killed him. His father was Doctor No. In some ways, San is glad that Bond had escaped his assassins. This way, before he died, Bond could see the great things that the son of Julius No had accomplished. San picks up a small device, like a silver machine gun. It is the new portable megaviolet ray gun, just like the one that dispatched Billing. San begins strutting about, speculating about how to eliminate Bond. As he ruminates, a woman's voice is heard, "No, San." The woman walks from the shadows, a woman with long straight black hair, the woman from the limo. San turns toward her, saying, "Mother, don't interfere. I will deal with the killer of my father." The woman speaks again, "San, you are so brilliant a scientist, but there is much that you do not understand." Bond sees that a man has walked out of the shadows to stand beside the woman. Bond hisses his name, "Choate!" Yes, old bean, Choate responds, saying he had only gone with the highest bidder - salary as 009 so miniscule, you know. San is irritated to see Choate and asks the woman what he is doing there. She responds that he had helped her in many ways, including keeping Bond alive. She was not ready for him to die. San is furious as Choate smartly remarks to Bond that he, old boy, owed Choate one - eliminating the sniper with the rifle, and then, how easily Bond entered the laboratory.
San orders his guards to remove Choate. Meanwhile, the woman has walked up to Bond. She gives him a flirtatious stare, and coyly asks if Bond remembered her. Bond's mind is racing. There was something vaguely familiar about her . Oh, James, she begins, don't tell me I made such a slight impression on you. Don't you remember the night we spent together at my bungalow, high in the Blue Mountains above Kingston? I know it was many years ago, but really. And then, after our love making you, instead of calling a cab like you said, calling the authorities. How unfair. Bond's mind is awhirl with thoughts, memories. That night, yes, like a sunrise, slowly the light is dawning. And her name, a part of the past, and a part of the present. Come on, think, speed up the process.
"Miss Taro." The words jump from Bond's mouth before his brain registers them in his conscious. The secretary at Government House, the missing files on Doctor No, her status as Doctor No's agent. She has her hands on her hips, and a knowing smile stretches across her lovely pouting mouth. Yes, there, now you have it. It was all falling into place. Miss Taro, mother of San, the son of Doctor No. So, Miss Taro was more than just an agent, she was Doctor No's mistress, or was it wife? And the lab . yes, of course, how had he missed that? Tarono. Taro - No. She remarks that she can see Bond putting the pieces together. Yes, after Doctor No's death, there was still much wealth, and an organization without a leader. How fortunate that she was pregnant. How fortunate when the organization realized that the child to be was the son of Julius No. What a marvelous way to gain control, when no one else was able to come to grips with the great one's death.
San, listening to all this, is growing weary. Why tell him all this, this scum who murdered my father. Miss Taro looks at Bond for a moment expectantly. Well, she asks him, do you have an answer for San? This time Bond's mind is blank. What in blazes does that mean? Miss Taro asks Bond how old he thinks San is. Before he can answer, she responds that his birthday was December, 1962. Do you remember our night together, James? I do. It was March 19, 1962. Yes, Bond remembers the first day of that March, sleeting terribly in London the day he visited M's office. His first hint of the adventure to come, the disappearance of Strangways. To Jamaica by the tenth and then .. And then a look of real fear crosses Bond's eyes. He had faced death many times, but this sensation is different. His groin begins to crawl, and his neck stiffens. Somehow he wants to stop this, he did not want to hear what he knew was coming next. That's right, Miss Taro says. Doctor No is not the father of San. It is you, James. You want to reject that, I am sure, but it is the truth. It just served my purpose much more to have the world believe that San was Doctor No's, and not a child of some lowly servant of the Crown.
On hearing this, San becomes nearly apoplectic. Stop this, mother, he cries, it is crazy, what are you doing. San is gripping the megaviolet ray device with a vice grip, squeezing and twisting the handles, as if writhing his hands in agony, in madness. Miss Taro says to Bond, "you should know, James, one thing for sure: Doctor No could not, could not, be the father of San." San, finally the bits of unwanted knowledge becoming too much for him, jumps down from the podium on which he was standing, and aims the megaviolet device at Bond. "You're not my father, you murderous swine," he screams, "I want you dead, and you will die in this most fitting way." Just as he begins to fire the device, Miss Taro leaps between San and Bond, yelling stop, STOP. The invisible rays hit her, making no sound but a strange musical fizzling. She looks into Bond's eyes. With intensity she repeats, "You know." And she slowly freezes in place, and appears to dissolve in a mass of microscopic flashbulbs. San screams "mother! MOTHER!" and fires at Bond, who leaps behind a desk that soon disappears as the megaviolet beam of destruction hits it. Bond rushes through the lab, struggling to remove the mask and snorkel. Just behind him dances the megaviolet ray vaporizing all that it strikes. Bond is finally able to remove the snorkel, and yank hard on the breathing tube. The rubber slides off, and under it is a stainless steel barrel. Struggling with the mouthpiece, all the while mumping and running to avoid the ray, with the whole room now aglow and sparkling like some massive indoor fireworks display, Bond is finally able to yank the rest of the rubber camouflage from the snorkel. He then stops, turns toward San, who is leveling the megaviolet ray device for a dead-on shot at Bond's chest. Bond aims carefully, and pulls the trigger.
The single shot from the .44 magnum pistol booms, nearly deafening Bond. The recoil jerks Bond's arms up, momentarily blocking his view. He looks at San, who stands motionless. Did Bond miss? He could he, at that range? Then, the stare in San's eyes became unreal, far away. A point of blood could be seen on his chest. San topples over, backwards. Behind him, the wall of computers begin to sputter and smoke and flame, for the .44 slug has passed directly through San and slammed into the main computer. Bond sinks to his knees, breathing hard, his head poured into his hands. The guards enter, guns aready. But on seeing San dead, and as if their arms had lost their strength, they lower their weapons. "It's over," is all Bond can muster.
Vital Statistics is located in an old section of Kingston, in a building ancient in appearance. In the basement are records of births, going back many scores of years. The mustiness of the records, from years of tropical humidity, is stifling. It chokes Bond, though the pretty young Jamaican clerk assisting him seems not to mind at all. "1962" is in a group of file cabinets about ten yards from the door. The clerk pulls out a large drawer and begins flipping through the small sheets of paper that record the little miracles of human birth. Ah, here we have it she exclaims with satisfaction. She hands the certificate to Bond. Somehow he knows that it will corroborate what Miss Taro had said. And it does. San Taro No was born on December 20, 1962. The mother's name is clear: Constance Taro. (Bond smiles a little - until then, he had never even known Ms. Taro's first name.) And the father? Would it have mattered? There is no listing.
"All in all, not bad, James, not bad at all," is how Admiral Bates begins their chat in Bates' office. He tells Bond that they were able to salvage much of San's research papers and equipment. The megaviolet ray device was apparently a tremendous find for science. The Admiral is interrupted by the intercom. It was Brightley. He says he has something for them. The Admiral and Bond go to computer central, where Brightley is busy at work at his terminal. Fingers flying, and a voice to match, Brightley is summoning up on the computer screen, and giving a running commentary at the same time, all the Secret Service knew about Doctor No. Most of it is not registering with Bond. "German father, Chinese mother . education . put himself through medical school . guano factory on Crab Key ..Toppling effect . American missiles ." Brightley adds that the most important event before Bond, ah, terminated him, was his accident. At this Bond, perks up.
"It was about eight years before your run in with him," Brightley says. "During construction on Crab Key. You probably recall that nuclear power was used. Well, it seems there was a reactor accident. A slight meltdown. Doctor No was rushed to the hospital in Kingston, with severe radiation exposure. It was so bad that his hands had to be removed. Good thing he was dedicated to his work and wasn't interested in starting a family." "Why so," Bond asks. "With that many rads, he was sterilized, for sure," Brightley responds. Bond stares at the computer screen until the images all ran together, like colors in a wash. And Miss Taro's words ring in his mind. "You know," she had said. Just weeks earlier, he had been enjoying retirement, improving his tennis game and planning an occasional fishing trip his only concerns. Then suddenly, it was again, Jamaica, an island paradise, but under the surface, again evil. An evil that had taken him to this: killing his own son.
Bond did not really remember leaving the Admiral and Brightley, and only vaguely his drive toward the North Shore.
The seaside bar is comfortable and the palm fronds filter the sun. Bond is downing straight scotch, with a cold Red Stripe chaser. Boilermakers, the Yanks call them. They get you there in a hurry. A place where he planned to stay for some time. It is then that the two sensations hit him at once. One, the delicious peppery scent. Peppery and perfumey, all delicately wrapped into one. Only one woman had that scent. Second, the feeling of warm fingers, gently touching his neck, and wrapping 'round, to caress, and easily massage the back of his head. He turns, she speaks. "Lost in thought, dear James," she says softly, "you look so sad. But I can help." It is Honey, looking radiant in the soft pink of the now setting tropical sun. Her face is full of desire, womanliness, and love.
"What's the matter," she asks. "Nothing, now that you are here," Bond replies. And he means it. Seeing her, feeling her touch seems to melt away the horrors of three days earlier. He turns, takes her in his arms, and kisses her deeply, letting the kiss linger, never wanting it to end. She pulls back from him. She knows a better place for them to continue the evening, she says. They walk to the dock beside the bar, and up to a 42 foot Sea Ray Express Cruiser, with the name "Honeychile" prominently splayed in gold on her transom. Bond's eyes widen. She says yes, I have some surprises for you. She knows a beautiful cove, not far away, where it is quiet and peaceful. Just perfect for a light dinner and overnight stay. And in the morning, coffee with the sunrise.
Bond casts off the bow lines, and Honey eases the boat away from the dock, the twin V-8's burbling deeply. Bond joins her on the flying bridge, slipping his arm around her. The Sea Ray heads slowly west, toward the setting sun, the sky ablaze with colors, clouds brilliant with red, orange, magenta. Honey slips a CD in the sound system and in a moment the calypso sounds begin to filter above the rumble of the engines. The Jamaican singer warbles: "Underneath the mango tree, me honey .."
Original content © 2003 Barnett Tennyson
You are no doubt aware of the exploits of British Secret Service Agent James Bond, 007, as recorded by Ian Fleming. Mr. Fleming died of a heart attack in l964, way too soon for this master of the mystery novel. No one in my opinion has matched his vivid imagery, wildly creative imagination, and poignant observations of the world around him. His prose was so rich and engrossing it was nearly impossible to put down one of his novels once it was begun.
Through my connections with various former MI-6 operatives, I came across the following James Bond adventure that has not before been released to the public. I hope you find it entertaining.
This story begins in the late 1980's, when James Bond was retired from the Secret Service. For some years he had lived in the south of Spain, on the Costa del Sol, near the small village of Mijas. A number of British expatriates had chosen this area, between Malaga and Marbella on the Mediterranean.
On one spring afternoon, had you been on a hillside nearby, you would have seen a lovely villa situated high on one of the rolling, brownish hills that fall gently away to the deep blue of the Mediterranean. On a terrace just below the villa, James Bond, fit and tanned and in his mid 50's, is playing a vigorous game of tennis with a lovely lady, mid thirties, with long, raven hair and a lovely shape clearly outlined by her snug tennis top and shorts. As she executes a beautiful overhead smash, Bond valiantly attempts a return, only to net the ball. "Ah, that gremlin raised the net on me again," he exclaims to her amusement. Bond and the lady walk off the court, exchanging pleasantries. Bond remarks that he will return later, to pick her up for dinner. A short kiss seals it, and Bond walks to his automobile, a Triumph TR-6 roadster, and tosses his tennis racket and a tin of tennis balls onto the passenger seat.
As he drives down the winding road toward the coastal highway, a dark sedan races past him, cutting him off. The driver of the sedan jumps from the car, pulls a silencer equipped pistol and fires at Bond. Bond ducks behind his car, reaches for the racket and tennis balls, and sprints to the underbrush and trees beside the road. The shootist fires a couple more shots, just missing Bond. The underbrush is quite thick, and the shootist moves stealthily into it, gun ready, looking for Bond.
As the shootist moves into a clearing, he hears a twig snap, and looks to his right. Bond, about twenty yards away, flips a tennis ball into the air, and with an overhand serve, drives the ball mightily, hitting the shootist's pistol, knocking it loose. Bond flips another ball into the air, and this serve is drilled directly into the shootists's crotch, doubling him over with pain. As Bond approaches him, he remarks, "Ah well, another double fault," and grabs him by the neck. Bond begins questioning the shootist, but before Bond can react, the shootist breaks a cigarette, stuffs into his mouth, and soon is writhing in pain. Bond smells the scent of cyanide on the cigarette.
The troubling event is investigated, and Bond returns to London to review the matter with Headquarters. M was able to determine that the shootist was a notorious Eastern European hitman, who performed his services for the highest bidder. Who might have hired him for this, however, remained a mystery. Bond and M agree that the hitman had no direct run-in with Bond, so a personal vendetta is discounted. Bond noted the similarity between the death of the hitman and another incident years earlier in Jamaica. M agreed. "Yes, that Doctor No business." M relates to Bond that there are troubling matters in Jamaica again. There have been peculiar ecological disasters, the Interior Ministry had sent some scientists to assist, and they disappeared. And there is a super secret research laboratory on the Island, Tarono Laboratory. No on has been able to penetrate its security, but since there was no evidence of wrongdoing by the lab, the authorities hands were tied.
Bond inquires if there is any connection with the attempt on his life and the Jamaican matter. M casts his eyes downward and says yes, he thinks there might be. There had been some discussion about calling him back to consult on this, due to his earlier successes in Jamaica. Those discussions had included Derek Choate, 009, who had then returned to Jamaica. And now Choate has not checked in for some time.
M fears that the word may have reached whoever is behind the scientists, and Choate's, disappearance. And whoever that is may have felt the presence of Bond would have been too great a threat. Under the circumstances, M says, it would be too much to expect Bond to come aboard. And he is chagrined that he had not forewarned Bond, but had frankly not anticipated the quick, nearly fatal response the mere mention of Bond may have caused. M remarks that Bond is obviously fit, and his tennis game "ah, right on the mark," and wonders if he would have interest in .. Bond takes him up, indicating that when someone tries to kill him, he wants to whom and he wants to know why. M's face develops a sly grin, and he tells Bond that he will "make all necessary arrangements for you to fly to Jamaica immediately."
As Bond's plane circles to land at the airport outside of Kingston, his memory is flooded with thoughts of the beautiful jewel of the Caribbean. Once in Kingston, Bond meets with Admiral Bates, who is attached to the British Embassy, and is the number one man in the Secret Service for the region. Bond is told that there are no new leads into the scientists who disappeared. Concerning the ecological disasters, the government had investigated - a number of fish and bird deaths - but the reports were inconclusive and bland. As far as the Tarono Laboratory was concerned, again, it remained impenetrable.
One interesting point is that the local divers used to dive in and around the installation, located near Oracabessa on the North Shore. It is a haven for exotic shells. However none of them will dive there now. And none of the divers are talking. They are a close knit group, and very distrustful of outsiders. Bond asks about contacting them. Bates says that they often sell their shells to a shop in Oracabessa. Bond gets the address of the shop, and secures a rental car for the drive north from Kingston.
Bond finds the shop with ease - Honey's Shells - and thinks little of it. He walks in and asks to speak to the owner. A moment later the owner, a woman, walks into the shop from its office, and Bond is momentarily stunned. Even after all the intervening years he immediately recognizes the blonde beauty. It is Honeychile Ryder.
Honey knows him immediately as well and they embrace. She tells him that she has stayed on the island all these years, having opened the shop just a short time after Bond had left Jamaica. Something moves in Bond as he talks with her, and looks at her. He can hardly believe how beautiful she is, and how his emotions seem to be running away with him. They meet later for dinner and Bond explains his need to talk with some of the divers. Honey knows them all well, and they trust her completely. The divers told her that much more was found when the government investigated the fish and bird kills, and that the divers do not trust the government at all. She is not sure why the divers avoid the area of the lab. It is something they will not even discuss with her. She agrees to contact a few of the divers and try to arrange a meeting.
Bond drops Honey off at her home and drives to his hotel. As he enters the lobby, he does not notice the large limo parked just across the street. If he had looked, he would have seen the shadow of a woman seated in the back, with straight black hair, and the smoke of a cigarette swirling lazily around her face and head. This woman watched Bond intently, never blinking. After Bond enters the hotel, a man rushes out to whisper to the woman. She nods slightly and the limo races off into the tropical night.
The next day, Honey calls. She has arranged for Bond to meet some of the divers. Bond picks Honey up in his car and they drive up into the hills of Jamaica, beyond the tourists' expensive homes, to a small hamlet of very modest houses. They park in front of one, and three men come out to meet them. Honey and Bond exit the car, and Honey introduces Bond to one man, Teddy. Teddy reluctantly shakes Bond's hand, looking at him suspiciously. With Honey's encouragement, Teddy agrees to talk. Bond asks about the Tarono laboratory. "There be plenty bad things happening, for sure, man," he says. He tells of the locals who work in the lab. They will speak to no one about the place. Any that do, well, something very bad happens. Perhaps a wife would get badly burned, or one of the children badly hurt. Same thing with any diver who would venture into the waters around the lab. The divers got the message quick: the lab was off limits.
And there was more. The lab is run by a young man, known only as San. And San is a devil, Teddy says. What he works on, no one understands, but he is a devil. Bond asks him to explain. "How else can a man make another disappear?" Teddy answers. Bond asks if he has seen this. No, says Teddy, but a good friend, another diver named Eddie Billing, has. Billing called it "the sparkles." Teddy says that Billing and another diver were the first to find some of the dead fish that began washing up on the north shore in great numbers. Billing said some of the fish were horribly deformed, with huge growths and sores on them. Some even had two heads. Then some lab people had shown up, and then the government, who removed all the fish.
A few days later, on a beach near Tarono, Billing and the other diver were talking it over, wondering what to do. While they were talking, the other diver simply disappeared. With the sparkles. Bond says he wants to meet with Billing. Teddy says he doesn't know, he'll try.
Later that night, Bond goes home with Honey. She had remained single all the years, devoting her life to the study of shells and running the shop. The magic between them is unmistakable and the night is one of love.
The following morning, Bond calls Admiral Bates, who arranges for Bond to visit the government office of environmental control. Bond returns to Kingston and finds the government officials less than forthcoming. They merely recite the findings of the investigation. Bond asks if samples of the fish killed were taken. Of course. Anything unusual? No, nothing at all. And the samples? All were destroyed.
Bond returns to his hotel on the North Shore and sees a shadowy figure that seems to be watching him. He calls Honey and tells her he will stay there for the night, there may be some bad business and he does not want her to be endangered.
Bond's room, on the fifth floor of the hotel, has large glass sliding doors to a balcony. The doors are open, letting in the cool night air. Bond moves about in the room and would be clearly visible to anyone looking from the outside. And in fact, at that moment, someone is. A man, dressed totally in black, is stationed in a clump of trees just fifty yards or so from the hotel. He is carefully aiming a high powered rifle with telescopic scope at Bond, the cross hairs steadied on Bond's heart. The sniper's trigger finger begins the slow squeeze of the professional. But before a shot can be fired, a thin strand of wire slips around the sniper's throat. In a second, it is pulled mightily, tightening and cutting into his neck. The sniper's eyes bulge as the wire cuts off air, and sound. In a moment, the sniper slouches to the ground in death. His killer, an athletic man, is also dressed in black, and quickly sprints away.
The next morning, the commotion awakens Bond. He walks down in time to see the local authorities taking the body away. He telephones Admiral Bates and as soon as he hangs up, Honey calls. She has arranged the meeting with Eddie Billing. Bond meets Billing on a small beach near a marina on the North Shore. Billing begins to relate his story. He is clearly petrified, looking around nervously. As he speaks, the rumble of a high powered boat is heard. Billing is shaking all over as he tells Bond about the sparkles. Then, he seems to stop speaking in mid-sentence. He begins to shimmer, take on the luminescence of silver. Then, right before Bond's eyes, Eddie Billings disappears.
Bond hears the boat power up, and turns toward the sea. The boat, a 45 foot Infinity, has turned toward the open sea, her engines roaring. Bond notices the two men in the boat pulling off what look like radiation suits. Bond runs to the small marina, where a young man with long blonde hair is gassing up his 38 foot Scarab. Bond leaps into the boat, fires it up, and begins to pull away from the dock. As the young man yells, Bond calls out "sorry, the Queen's business. Shan't be long." Bond pursues the Infinity as they weave past the coral reefs heading out to sea. Both are running above 5000 rpms, over 65 miles an hour. Once clear of the reefs, the boats blast through the water, at times lifting all but the out drives clear of the sea. As Bond begins to gain on the Infinity, the pilot looks back and the other man begins to scamper through the boat. The pilot is on the radio, frantically calling whilst trying to control the huge boat leaping and slicing through the swells. A moment later Bond thinks he sees a small object, moving at tremendous speed through the air, honing in on the Infinity. And then the Infinity explodes in a gigantic fireball, disintegrating. Could it have been a surface to surface missile? With the bright sun, spray and glare, it was impossible to say.
Back at the marina, things are straightened out with the Scarab's owner after the local authorities check Bond out with Kingston. Bond returns to Kingston and he and Admiral Bates meet with an assistant to the Prime Minister. He is quite dismissive of Bond's story, suggesting that spontaneous combustion could explain poor Billing, and that there simply wasn't enough for any action against the Tarono lab. After the meeting, Bond wonders to Admiral Bates if the assistant is just a cautious bureaucrat, or something else. Bond asks the Admiral to send a cable back to Q section immediately.
The next morning, a large package is delivered to Bond at his hotel room. Full scuba gear and an underwater jamming device have been forwarded from Q.
Later that night, Teddy takes Bond to a small cove near the Tarono lab. Bond, in wetsuit and scuba gear, enters the water, checks the jamming device, and flutter kicks away from shore. In about twenty feet of water, he turns south, swimming just a few feet off the bottom, toward the Tarono lab.
Within the lab, the technician at the security panel notices something. Before he can react, someone dressed in black overcomes the man, and shuts off the security system. Bond swims ashore, removes the scuba tank and fins, pushes his mask and snorkel up on his head, and runs toward the building. He jimmies a window and makes his way to the main laboratory, where he begins to open file cabinets, scanning reports. Some of them involve gene splicing, the creation of new strains of bacteria. There are photographs of fish that are deformed and bizarre. Bond begins inspecting another file cabinet and finds a series of reports on "Megaviolet Rays." His tiny flashlight is skimming line after line of this report when the main lights suddenly flash on As Bond turns, he hears a man's voice say, "My, my, a visitor!"
Bond sees a young man, about in his mid-twenties, flanked by armed security guards. The young man remarks that Bond has discovered his most important find. He introduces himself as San, and with a megalomaniac's strut, he explains that he had discovered megaviolet rays, which exist well beyond the visual spectrum of light. With further experimentation, he was able to control those rays, focus them, bind them, align them. Much like a laser does with light rays. But there was a difference. When megaviolet rays are aligned and focused, whatever they are focused on breaks down to its molecular level, and is dispersed. And with quite a show. What do the locals call it, "the sparkles?" Lest you think this is just a mechanism for meaningless destruction, San remarks, let me quickly add that the megaviolet rays break down everything this way, toxic waste, even nuclear waste, all rendered harmless by this wonderful invention. "Think of the possibilities, Mr. Bond," San says, "it is what the world needs." But no, the world wasn't quite ready. He would not be rejected as his father was. He would wait until the world was in such a dire state that it would embrace him as the savior. And he intended to help that along, by spreading altered bacteria and viruses throughout the world, creating chaos, misery, abject fear. And then he would step forward, and demand his price.
San asks if Bond remembered his father, and before a response was possible, San answers for him. He should, for Bond killed him. His father was Doctor No. In some ways, San is glad that Bond had escaped his assassins. This way, before he died, Bond could see the great things that the son of Julius No had accomplished. San picks up a small device, like a silver machine gun. It is the new portable megaviolet ray gun, just like the one that dispatched Billing. San begins strutting about, speculating about how to eliminate Bond. As he ruminates, a woman's voice is heard, "No, San." The woman walks from the shadows, a woman with long straight black hair, the woman from the limo. San turns toward her, saying, "Mother, don't interfere. I will deal with the killer of my father." The woman speaks again, "San, you are so brilliant a scientist, but there is much that you do not understand." Bond sees that a man has walked out of the shadows to stand beside the woman. Bond hisses his name, "Choate!" Yes, old bean, Choate responds, saying he had only gone with the highest bidder - salary as 009 so miniscule, you know. San is irritated to see Choate and asks the woman what he is doing there. She responds that he had helped her in many ways, including keeping Bond alive. She was not ready for him to die. San is furious as Choate smartly remarks to Bond that he, old boy, owed Choate one - eliminating the sniper with the rifle, and then, how easily Bond entered the laboratory.
San orders his guards to remove Choate. Meanwhile, the woman has walked up to Bond. She gives him a flirtatious stare, and coyly asks if Bond remembered her. Bond's mind is racing. There was something vaguely familiar about her . Oh, James, she begins, don't tell me I made such a slight impression on you. Don't you remember the night we spent together at my bungalow, high in the Blue Mountains above Kingston? I know it was many years ago, but really. And then, after our love making you, instead of calling a cab like you said, calling the authorities. How unfair. Bond's mind is awhirl with thoughts, memories. That night, yes, like a sunrise, slowly the light is dawning. And her name, a part of the past, and a part of the present. Come on, think, speed up the process.
"Miss Taro." The words jump from Bond's mouth before his brain registers them in his conscious. The secretary at Government House, the missing files on Doctor No, her status as Doctor No's agent. She has her hands on her hips, and a knowing smile stretches across her lovely pouting mouth. Yes, there, now you have it. It was all falling into place. Miss Taro, mother of San, the son of Doctor No. So, Miss Taro was more than just an agent, she was Doctor No's mistress, or was it wife? And the lab . yes, of course, how had he missed that? Tarono. Taro - No. She remarks that she can see Bond putting the pieces together. Yes, after Doctor No's death, there was still much wealth, and an organization without a leader. How fortunate that she was pregnant. How fortunate when the organization realized that the child to be was the son of Julius No. What a marvelous way to gain control, when no one else was able to come to grips with the great one's death.
San, listening to all this, is growing weary. Why tell him all this, this scum who murdered my father. Miss Taro looks at Bond for a moment expectantly. Well, she asks him, do you have an answer for San? This time Bond's mind is blank. What in blazes does that mean? Miss Taro asks Bond how old he thinks San is. Before he can answer, she responds that his birthday was December, 1962. Do you remember our night together, James? I do. It was March 19, 1962. Yes, Bond remembers the first day of that March, sleeting terribly in London the day he visited M's office. His first hint of the adventure to come, the disappearance of Strangways. To Jamaica by the tenth and then .. And then a look of real fear crosses Bond's eyes. He had faced death many times, but this sensation is different. His groin begins to crawl, and his neck stiffens. Somehow he wants to stop this, he did not want to hear what he knew was coming next. That's right, Miss Taro says. Doctor No is not the father of San. It is you, James. You want to reject that, I am sure, but it is the truth. It just served my purpose much more to have the world believe that San was Doctor No's, and not a child of some lowly servant of the Crown.
On hearing this, San becomes nearly apoplectic. Stop this, mother, he cries, it is crazy, what are you doing. San is gripping the megaviolet ray device with a vice grip, squeezing and twisting the handles, as if writhing his hands in agony, in madness. Miss Taro says to Bond, "you should know, James, one thing for sure: Doctor No could not, could not, be the father of San." San, finally the bits of unwanted knowledge becoming too much for him, jumps down from the podium on which he was standing, and aims the megaviolet device at Bond. "You're not my father, you murderous swine," he screams, "I want you dead, and you will die in this most fitting way." Just as he begins to fire the device, Miss Taro leaps between San and Bond, yelling stop, STOP. The invisible rays hit her, making no sound but a strange musical fizzling. She looks into Bond's eyes. With intensity she repeats, "You know." And she slowly freezes in place, and appears to dissolve in a mass of microscopic flashbulbs. San screams "mother! MOTHER!" and fires at Bond, who leaps behind a desk that soon disappears as the megaviolet beam of destruction hits it. Bond rushes through the lab, struggling to remove the mask and snorkel. Just behind him dances the megaviolet ray vaporizing all that it strikes. Bond is finally able to remove the snorkel, and yank hard on the breathing tube. The rubber slides off, and under it is a stainless steel barrel. Struggling with the mouthpiece, all the while mumping and running to avoid the ray, with the whole room now aglow and sparkling like some massive indoor fireworks display, Bond is finally able to yank the rest of the rubber camouflage from the snorkel. He then stops, turns toward San, who is leveling the megaviolet ray device for a dead-on shot at Bond's chest. Bond aims carefully, and pulls the trigger.
The single shot from the .44 magnum pistol booms, nearly deafening Bond. The recoil jerks Bond's arms up, momentarily blocking his view. He looks at San, who stands motionless. Did Bond miss? He could he, at that range? Then, the stare in San's eyes became unreal, far away. A point of blood could be seen on his chest. San topples over, backwards. Behind him, the wall of computers begin to sputter and smoke and flame, for the .44 slug has passed directly through San and slammed into the main computer. Bond sinks to his knees, breathing hard, his head poured into his hands. The guards enter, guns aready. But on seeing San dead, and as if their arms had lost their strength, they lower their weapons. "It's over," is all Bond can muster.
Vital Statistics is located in an old section of Kingston, in a building ancient in appearance. In the basement are records of births, going back many scores of years. The mustiness of the records, from years of tropical humidity, is stifling. It chokes Bond, though the pretty young Jamaican clerk assisting him seems not to mind at all. "1962" is in a group of file cabinets about ten yards from the door. The clerk pulls out a large drawer and begins flipping through the small sheets of paper that record the little miracles of human birth. Ah, here we have it she exclaims with satisfaction. She hands the certificate to Bond. Somehow he knows that it will corroborate what Miss Taro had said. And it does. San Taro No was born on December 20, 1962. The mother's name is clear: Constance Taro. (Bond smiles a little - until then, he had never even known Ms. Taro's first name.) And the father? Would it have mattered? There is no listing.
"All in all, not bad, James, not bad at all," is how Admiral Bates begins their chat in Bates' office. He tells Bond that they were able to salvage much of San's research papers and equipment. The megaviolet ray device was apparently a tremendous find for science. The Admiral is interrupted by the intercom. It was Brightley. He says he has something for them. The Admiral and Bond go to computer central, where Brightley is busy at work at his terminal. Fingers flying, and a voice to match, Brightley is summoning up on the computer screen, and giving a running commentary at the same time, all the Secret Service knew about Doctor No. Most of it is not registering with Bond. "German father, Chinese mother . education . put himself through medical school . guano factory on Crab Key ..Toppling effect . American missiles ." Brightley adds that the most important event before Bond, ah, terminated him, was his accident. At this Bond, perks up.
"It was about eight years before your run in with him," Brightley says. "During construction on Crab Key. You probably recall that nuclear power was used. Well, it seems there was a reactor accident. A slight meltdown. Doctor No was rushed to the hospital in Kingston, with severe radiation exposure. It was so bad that his hands had to be removed. Good thing he was dedicated to his work and wasn't interested in starting a family." "Why so," Bond asks. "With that many rads, he was sterilized, for sure," Brightley responds. Bond stares at the computer screen until the images all ran together, like colors in a wash. And Miss Taro's words ring in his mind. "You know," she had said. Just weeks earlier, he had been enjoying retirement, improving his tennis game and planning an occasional fishing trip his only concerns. Then suddenly, it was again, Jamaica, an island paradise, but under the surface, again evil. An evil that had taken him to this: killing his own son.
Bond did not really remember leaving the Admiral and Brightley, and only vaguely his drive toward the North Shore.
The seaside bar is comfortable and the palm fronds filter the sun. Bond is downing straight scotch, with a cold Red Stripe chaser. Boilermakers, the Yanks call them. They get you there in a hurry. A place where he planned to stay for some time. It is then that the two sensations hit him at once. One, the delicious peppery scent. Peppery and perfumey, all delicately wrapped into one. Only one woman had that scent. Second, the feeling of warm fingers, gently touching his neck, and wrapping 'round, to caress, and easily massage the back of his head. He turns, she speaks. "Lost in thought, dear James," she says softly, "you look so sad. But I can help." It is Honey, looking radiant in the soft pink of the now setting tropical sun. Her face is full of desire, womanliness, and love.
"What's the matter," she asks. "Nothing, now that you are here," Bond replies. And he means it. Seeing her, feeling her touch seems to melt away the horrors of three days earlier. He turns, takes her in his arms, and kisses her deeply, letting the kiss linger, never wanting it to end. She pulls back from him. She knows a better place for them to continue the evening, she says. They walk to the dock beside the bar, and up to a 42 foot Sea Ray Express Cruiser, with the name "Honeychile" prominently splayed in gold on her transom. Bond's eyes widen. She says yes, I have some surprises for you. She knows a beautiful cove, not far away, where it is quiet and peaceful. Just perfect for a light dinner and overnight stay. And in the morning, coffee with the sunrise.
Bond casts off the bow lines, and Honey eases the boat away from the dock, the twin V-8's burbling deeply. Bond joins her on the flying bridge, slipping his arm around her. The Sea Ray heads slowly west, toward the setting sun, the sky ablaze with colors, clouds brilliant with red, orange, magenta. Honey slips a CD in the sound system and in a moment the calypso sounds begin to filter above the rumble of the engines. The Jamaican singer warbles: "Underneath the mango tree, me honey .."