The simple thrill of just driving came back to Ashleigh as she headed back to the city, the SATNAV directing her, she merely had to follow the instructions and put her foot to the floor. It seemed like forever since the last time she had driven for pleasure, instead she seemed to spend half her life in traffic jams along the banks of the Thames. When she got back, whenever she got back, she was going to take her Spider on a decent jaunt for once, head down to the West Country, let it have its head on some proper roads for once.
A passion for Italian cars had been instilled in her from an early age by her father, and she had rarely ventured away from them in her driving career. Today though, after the shock of the night before, and her lack of sleep, the cool German efficiency of the Mercedes suited her down to the ground.
She wondered if she was making a mistake with Alec. Of course she was. Even in her craziest moments, trapped under the spell of her desire for Alec, she knew that, and she knew that if she kept playing with fire she was going to get burnt, and badly. Was a few nights of passion worth that risk? The stubborn, and lonely, part of her insisted that it was, it had been a while since she had had some fun, and it wasn't as if she wasn't working while she got her kicks.
The mission, if she was honest, was disturbing her. They had so much information, but were unable to act upon it. Alec seemed desperate to warn her of the danger she was in, and the theatre incident had frightened her more than she would like to admit. She was desperate herself, wanting to get back to the city to James and Dmitrov, to find out what had happened, and to see if they were safe. Gripping the steering wheel firmly, she hoped that they were.
Her attention had wandered while she was driving, changing gear and braking on auto pilot while she thought of the night before. However the black saloon that suddenly appeared in her rear view mirror snapped her attention back to the road. Blacked out windows, and a menacing grill, it was far too close to her, and catching up with every second that passed. Warily, following the feeling in the pit of her stomach she kept glancing back at it, watching as it followed her every move, changing lanes when she did so. The feeling got worse, her mouth dried, and she felt her palms dampen on the wheel. Seeing a small minor road sign posted up ahead she made a decision, and turned quickly onto it, no braking, no indication. A heartbeat later the saloon appeared behind her.
'Shit,' she murmured, refusing to be distracted, she dropped down a gear and felt the Kompressor kick in as she pulled away, accelerating through the bends, it didn't help, the saloon was bearing down on her again. At last the threat was realised, and with a jolt, Ashleigh was thrown forwards, her feet slipping on the pedals as the Merc was rammed.
'Bastard!' she screamed, suddenly frightened again, feeling control abandoning her, venting her fury on the gear shift she cut down the gears, trying to put some more distance between her and them, but at the back of her mind she thought there was something wrong with the car, and she couldn't work out what. The tail swung out as she rounded a bend, seeing a straight up ahead she floored it. Again she was hit, and she braked hard, jerking the wheel to the right. cutting across the road, adrenaline and panic coursing through her, the fight was getting furious. A final blow to the left bumper, and the car slid towards the edge of the road, she lost control, frantically hitting the brakes again.
The occupants of the other car watched as the car rolled once, twice, three times, before coming to rest on its roof, rear wheels spinning helplessly. Ashleigh felt the car bump along the edge of the ditch, rise up, her temple hit the side panel, the ground came rushing towards her at a strange angle. She lost consciousness, and as the world faded away, her final thoughts were that the brakes had failed, and of Alec.
The night at the Mariinsky theatre had ended in tragedy. Half way through the second Act a hysterical screaming had begun. In the Grand Circle Vaskov's rapidly cooling body had been discovered. There had been no sign of Ashleigh, and James had hoped that she had been sensible enough to get as far away from the dead minister as possible. It was as if the discovery of the body had been a cue. Suddenly the theatre had erupted into carnage, armed faceless men had filled the theatre, three people had been shot, and had died as a result. There had been no reason given for the attack, no explanation, and James was more than suspicious. He could only think that it had been a cover up for Vaskov's murder, and now the blame was being placed upon an separatist terror organisation. It was clever, Bond could see that, and he and Dmitrov had found themselves in the thick of the action. A brief struggle to disarm one of the 'terrorists' had left Bond with a dark bruise on his ribs from the butt of a rifle, Dmitrov was sporting a split lip and cut under his eye.
It was frustrating. Each path Bond was faced with finished in a dead end. He wanted to talk to Lucinda Elliot personally, feeling as if she was the key, it was a case of manipulating a meeting with her. It was this thought that occupied James as he and Dmitrov walked across the lobby of the hotel.
'Mr. Bond!' The concierge spotted them, and holding one hand over the receiver called out, 'I have a telephone call for you.'
Bond raised an eyebrow at Dmitrov, before taking the receiver from the concierge. 'Yes, this is Bond,' he said in reply to the heavily accented voice on the other end.
His eyes closed as he listened to the news, and the blood ran from his face.
The phone was among Ashleigh's belongings. Bond turned it over in his hands, this wasn't Ashleigh's usual mobile. Flicking it open he saw the single number programmed in, and with a cold fury guessed where his goddaughter had once more spent the night. Cursing her stupidity, he listened as it rang once, twice, and then the click of connection. There was silence, but James could hear someone breathing quietly at the other end.
'Talk to me, Janus.'
'James.'
'Last orders.'
'11pm. The Square.'
A click and the connection was over.
Three years ago James had come face to face with a dead man. Now among the desecrated statues of communist leaders, James was meeting again. The fog was dense, the night chill, but James Bond was colder.
As he waited, he could feel a rage building inside him, and hearing a footstep shouted in frustration. 'I know you're here Alec!'
Alec Trevelyan stepped from the shadows and faced his former friend.
'Evening James,' Oh so casual, and infuriating as usual. Bond didn't meet his eyes, instead staring around at the remains of the statues.
'What part do you play in all of this, Alec?'
'Really, it was always all about the mission with you James. That's not why you're here.'
'What part, Alec?' he repeated.
'Nothing. I have no interest in the Hermes Project.'
'I can't believe that.'
With a malicious gleam in his eyes, Alec couldn't resist taunting the other man. 'Ashleigh Kain said the same thing last night.'
James ignored him. 'What do you know about Hermes?'
'I know that it is of interest to every figure of power in Russia. Developed and now being marketed by Caleb Deronda. With control of it Russia could be a world power once more, one to rival both Britain and America. Beyond that, I have no interest or involvement in it.'
The tension was clear on Bond's face, he looked tired and strained. 'No, no involvement in this,' he said softly. 'My goddaughter though. Lets face it, the only reason you seduced her was revenge on me, what would David think of you using his daughter as a weapon?'
Alec at least had the grace to look away at the mention of Ashleigh's father. 'She's old enough to make her own decisions, James. You should know that.'
'She's twenty five. Barely into adulthood.' James paused, wanting his next words to take effect. 'Did you wonder how I managed to contact you?'
A wary look flickered across Alec's scarred features. 'It had crossed my mind.'
'The phone you gave her. It was among her belongings given to me at the hospital.'
'Hospital?' Even in the dim light James could see Alec frown, visibly shaken. Good, he thought, it gave him more satisfaction in his next news.
'Ashleigh was recovered from a car wreck this morning, about twenty kilometres outside of the city. Her car, a grey Mercedes coupe was on its roof when they found her, it had been run off the road. I've tried tracing the plates, but its been exceptionally difficult. I have my suspicions though. The brakes failed, the car flipped. The brake fluid had been emptied, and the cables been scored through, as soon as she braked heavily they snapped. Someone wanted her to have that accident. I wonder who that could be, Alec?'
Alec's face had paled, and when he raised a hand to run it over his hair James saw it was shaking. 'Ashleigh?' he asked thickly, 'Is she ok? Is she alive?'
'Miraculously, yes. She has a concussion, a few cuts and bruises. She'll survive... She's bloody lucky to!' For once Bond overcame his usual detachment, letting his emotions rule him. Anger coursed through him as he remembered seeing Ashleigh lying deathly still in the hospital bed, blood drying to a crust upon her temple. For a terrifying moment he thought she was dead, and his relief at her diagnoses had swamped him. Now staring at Alec, he thought how much pleasure it would bring him to smash his fist into that smug, arrogant, scarred face.
'I want to see her.' Alec's jaw was set, he spoke quietly but firmly.
'No.'
'I want to see her, James,' he repeated.
'Finishing the job?'
Something flickered in Alec's clenched jaw. 'I wouldn't harm her.'
Once friends, now bitter enemies, they faced each other. And all bets were off.
James had insisted that Ashleigh was discharged as soon as possible. He hadn't wanted any one to come back and attempt to complete the job they had started. Now a trusted doctor was on call at the hotel, Ashleigh was in good hands. She was still dazed from the crash, the concussion had brought on a slight fever, she had slept since they had brought her back to the hotel. Dozing in the double bed, wearing pale blue and white striped pyjamas, her pale skin flushed she looked very young and vulnerable. Around the room the clutter of her life remained, a half read novel by the bed, an assortment of makeup and brushes from the night before sprawled across the desk, a pot of hair wax by the mirror. Entering the room, Alec noticed none of these things, only seeing the young woman who had shared his bed the night before now lying pale and fragile looking before him.
James shrugged off his jacket, making sure that Alec saw him take his gun. Sitting in an armchair, he trained the gun on the other man.
'You'd kill me in front of her?' Alec allowed a trace of bitterness into his voice.
'I'd kill you in a second. I've done it before.'
In her sleep, Ashleigh stirred, a sudden flare of pain causing her to moan. Glancing defiantly in James's direction, Alec sat on the edge of the bed, and reached over to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes opened, dazed and confused.
'Alec?' she whispered, confused. 'What are you doing here?'
He knew this was about her, taking her hand he planted a gentle kiss on the palm. 'Seeing you.'
'The brakes wouldn't work.'
'I know?'
'Why?' she yawned, sleepy again, her head demanding rest.
'I don't know why.'
'You?'
His grip tightened on her hand, she gasped in pain and tried to pull it away. 'No. I promise you, I will never try to hurt you.'
'I hope so,' the ghost of a smiled appeared.
With narrowed eyes James waved the gun in the direction of the door. 'Time's up Alec.'
'No!' Ashleigh protested weakly.
'Soon,' he leaned over and kissed her cheek. 'I'll see you soon,'
She smiled, soothed like a child, and slipped once more into a deep sleep.
Alec straightened, a grim look on his face. 'I have nothing to do with this. With her 'accident', with anything.'
'You're dead, Alec. I don't have to believe a word you say.'
A final glance at the girl, and Alec turned and left. James continued to sit there, watching his goddaughter sleep, disturbed by the scene he had just witnessed.
A passion for Italian cars had been instilled in her from an early age by her father, and she had rarely ventured away from them in her driving career. Today though, after the shock of the night before, and her lack of sleep, the cool German efficiency of the Mercedes suited her down to the ground.
She wondered if she was making a mistake with Alec. Of course she was. Even in her craziest moments, trapped under the spell of her desire for Alec, she knew that, and she knew that if she kept playing with fire she was going to get burnt, and badly. Was a few nights of passion worth that risk? The stubborn, and lonely, part of her insisted that it was, it had been a while since she had had some fun, and it wasn't as if she wasn't working while she got her kicks.
The mission, if she was honest, was disturbing her. They had so much information, but were unable to act upon it. Alec seemed desperate to warn her of the danger she was in, and the theatre incident had frightened her more than she would like to admit. She was desperate herself, wanting to get back to the city to James and Dmitrov, to find out what had happened, and to see if they were safe. Gripping the steering wheel firmly, she hoped that they were.
Her attention had wandered while she was driving, changing gear and braking on auto pilot while she thought of the night before. However the black saloon that suddenly appeared in her rear view mirror snapped her attention back to the road. Blacked out windows, and a menacing grill, it was far too close to her, and catching up with every second that passed. Warily, following the feeling in the pit of her stomach she kept glancing back at it, watching as it followed her every move, changing lanes when she did so. The feeling got worse, her mouth dried, and she felt her palms dampen on the wheel. Seeing a small minor road sign posted up ahead she made a decision, and turned quickly onto it, no braking, no indication. A heartbeat later the saloon appeared behind her.
'Shit,' she murmured, refusing to be distracted, she dropped down a gear and felt the Kompressor kick in as she pulled away, accelerating through the bends, it didn't help, the saloon was bearing down on her again. At last the threat was realised, and with a jolt, Ashleigh was thrown forwards, her feet slipping on the pedals as the Merc was rammed.
'Bastard!' she screamed, suddenly frightened again, feeling control abandoning her, venting her fury on the gear shift she cut down the gears, trying to put some more distance between her and them, but at the back of her mind she thought there was something wrong with the car, and she couldn't work out what. The tail swung out as she rounded a bend, seeing a straight up ahead she floored it. Again she was hit, and she braked hard, jerking the wheel to the right. cutting across the road, adrenaline and panic coursing through her, the fight was getting furious. A final blow to the left bumper, and the car slid towards the edge of the road, she lost control, frantically hitting the brakes again.
The occupants of the other car watched as the car rolled once, twice, three times, before coming to rest on its roof, rear wheels spinning helplessly. Ashleigh felt the car bump along the edge of the ditch, rise up, her temple hit the side panel, the ground came rushing towards her at a strange angle. She lost consciousness, and as the world faded away, her final thoughts were that the brakes had failed, and of Alec.
The night at the Mariinsky theatre had ended in tragedy. Half way through the second Act a hysterical screaming had begun. In the Grand Circle Vaskov's rapidly cooling body had been discovered. There had been no sign of Ashleigh, and James had hoped that she had been sensible enough to get as far away from the dead minister as possible. It was as if the discovery of the body had been a cue. Suddenly the theatre had erupted into carnage, armed faceless men had filled the theatre, three people had been shot, and had died as a result. There had been no reason given for the attack, no explanation, and James was more than suspicious. He could only think that it had been a cover up for Vaskov's murder, and now the blame was being placed upon an separatist terror organisation. It was clever, Bond could see that, and he and Dmitrov had found themselves in the thick of the action. A brief struggle to disarm one of the 'terrorists' had left Bond with a dark bruise on his ribs from the butt of a rifle, Dmitrov was sporting a split lip and cut under his eye.
It was frustrating. Each path Bond was faced with finished in a dead end. He wanted to talk to Lucinda Elliot personally, feeling as if she was the key, it was a case of manipulating a meeting with her. It was this thought that occupied James as he and Dmitrov walked across the lobby of the hotel.
'Mr. Bond!' The concierge spotted them, and holding one hand over the receiver called out, 'I have a telephone call for you.'
Bond raised an eyebrow at Dmitrov, before taking the receiver from the concierge. 'Yes, this is Bond,' he said in reply to the heavily accented voice on the other end.
His eyes closed as he listened to the news, and the blood ran from his face.
The phone was among Ashleigh's belongings. Bond turned it over in his hands, this wasn't Ashleigh's usual mobile. Flicking it open he saw the single number programmed in, and with a cold fury guessed where his goddaughter had once more spent the night. Cursing her stupidity, he listened as it rang once, twice, and then the click of connection. There was silence, but James could hear someone breathing quietly at the other end.
'Talk to me, Janus.'
'James.'
'Last orders.'
'11pm. The Square.'
A click and the connection was over.
Three years ago James had come face to face with a dead man. Now among the desecrated statues of communist leaders, James was meeting again. The fog was dense, the night chill, but James Bond was colder.
As he waited, he could feel a rage building inside him, and hearing a footstep shouted in frustration. 'I know you're here Alec!'
Alec Trevelyan stepped from the shadows and faced his former friend.
'Evening James,' Oh so casual, and infuriating as usual. Bond didn't meet his eyes, instead staring around at the remains of the statues.
'What part do you play in all of this, Alec?'
'Really, it was always all about the mission with you James. That's not why you're here.'
'What part, Alec?' he repeated.
'Nothing. I have no interest in the Hermes Project.'
'I can't believe that.'
With a malicious gleam in his eyes, Alec couldn't resist taunting the other man. 'Ashleigh Kain said the same thing last night.'
James ignored him. 'What do you know about Hermes?'
'I know that it is of interest to every figure of power in Russia. Developed and now being marketed by Caleb Deronda. With control of it Russia could be a world power once more, one to rival both Britain and America. Beyond that, I have no interest or involvement in it.'
The tension was clear on Bond's face, he looked tired and strained. 'No, no involvement in this,' he said softly. 'My goddaughter though. Lets face it, the only reason you seduced her was revenge on me, what would David think of you using his daughter as a weapon?'
Alec at least had the grace to look away at the mention of Ashleigh's father. 'She's old enough to make her own decisions, James. You should know that.'
'She's twenty five. Barely into adulthood.' James paused, wanting his next words to take effect. 'Did you wonder how I managed to contact you?'
A wary look flickered across Alec's scarred features. 'It had crossed my mind.'
'The phone you gave her. It was among her belongings given to me at the hospital.'
'Hospital?' Even in the dim light James could see Alec frown, visibly shaken. Good, he thought, it gave him more satisfaction in his next news.
'Ashleigh was recovered from a car wreck this morning, about twenty kilometres outside of the city. Her car, a grey Mercedes coupe was on its roof when they found her, it had been run off the road. I've tried tracing the plates, but its been exceptionally difficult. I have my suspicions though. The brakes failed, the car flipped. The brake fluid had been emptied, and the cables been scored through, as soon as she braked heavily they snapped. Someone wanted her to have that accident. I wonder who that could be, Alec?'
Alec's face had paled, and when he raised a hand to run it over his hair James saw it was shaking. 'Ashleigh?' he asked thickly, 'Is she ok? Is she alive?'
'Miraculously, yes. She has a concussion, a few cuts and bruises. She'll survive... She's bloody lucky to!' For once Bond overcame his usual detachment, letting his emotions rule him. Anger coursed through him as he remembered seeing Ashleigh lying deathly still in the hospital bed, blood drying to a crust upon her temple. For a terrifying moment he thought she was dead, and his relief at her diagnoses had swamped him. Now staring at Alec, he thought how much pleasure it would bring him to smash his fist into that smug, arrogant, scarred face.
'I want to see her.' Alec's jaw was set, he spoke quietly but firmly.
'No.'
'I want to see her, James,' he repeated.
'Finishing the job?'
Something flickered in Alec's clenched jaw. 'I wouldn't harm her.'
Once friends, now bitter enemies, they faced each other. And all bets were off.
James had insisted that Ashleigh was discharged as soon as possible. He hadn't wanted any one to come back and attempt to complete the job they had started. Now a trusted doctor was on call at the hotel, Ashleigh was in good hands. She was still dazed from the crash, the concussion had brought on a slight fever, she had slept since they had brought her back to the hotel. Dozing in the double bed, wearing pale blue and white striped pyjamas, her pale skin flushed she looked very young and vulnerable. Around the room the clutter of her life remained, a half read novel by the bed, an assortment of makeup and brushes from the night before sprawled across the desk, a pot of hair wax by the mirror. Entering the room, Alec noticed none of these things, only seeing the young woman who had shared his bed the night before now lying pale and fragile looking before him.
James shrugged off his jacket, making sure that Alec saw him take his gun. Sitting in an armchair, he trained the gun on the other man.
'You'd kill me in front of her?' Alec allowed a trace of bitterness into his voice.
'I'd kill you in a second. I've done it before.'
In her sleep, Ashleigh stirred, a sudden flare of pain causing her to moan. Glancing defiantly in James's direction, Alec sat on the edge of the bed, and reached over to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes opened, dazed and confused.
'Alec?' she whispered, confused. 'What are you doing here?'
He knew this was about her, taking her hand he planted a gentle kiss on the palm. 'Seeing you.'
'The brakes wouldn't work.'
'I know?'
'Why?' she yawned, sleepy again, her head demanding rest.
'I don't know why.'
'You?'
His grip tightened on her hand, she gasped in pain and tried to pull it away. 'No. I promise you, I will never try to hurt you.'
'I hope so,' the ghost of a smiled appeared.
With narrowed eyes James waved the gun in the direction of the door. 'Time's up Alec.'
'No!' Ashleigh protested weakly.
'Soon,' he leaned over and kissed her cheek. 'I'll see you soon,'
She smiled, soothed like a child, and slipped once more into a deep sleep.
Alec straightened, a grim look on his face. 'I have nothing to do with this. With her 'accident', with anything.'
'You're dead, Alec. I don't have to believe a word you say.'
A final glance at the girl, and Alec turned and left. James continued to sit there, watching his goddaughter sleep, disturbed by the scene he had just witnessed.